Boots and The Rogue: Ugly Stick Saloon, Book 10 (13 page)

Jessie pushed the dress back at Audrey. “I can wait in the SUV. I don’t fit into that level of society.”

“Nonsense. Besides, you have to go in with me or Jackson will make me stay home.” She sighed. “Please?”

“Okay, but if it doesn’t fit, I’m wearing the other dress.”

“Trust me, you’ll want to wear the little black dress for this. It’s a very posh gallery.” Audrey lifted a strand of Jessie’s wet hair. “Before you dress, let me help you do your hair.”

“What’s wrong with letting it dry naturally?”

“Honey, you have beautiful hair. For this occasion, let me take a flat iron to it just to make it lay perfectly straight. A little makeup and you’ll look like a million bucks.”

“I don’t own any makeup.”

“Sweetie, I do.”

Audrey led her into the master bedroom’s bathroom and went to work on Jessie like she was her latest science project. When she was finished, she refused to let Jessie look in the mirror until she had her dress on.

“There is a pair of strappy, low-heel, rhinestone sandals in the bottom of my closet. I’ll let you dig them out while I empty my bladder for the hundredth time today. Then we can hit the road.”

Jessie found the sandals. The heart of the girlie girl she’d buried beneath her blue jeans fluttered at the bling sparkling in the light. She hurried to her bedroom and slipped into the black dress and sandals. Just like Audrey predicted, the dress fit her like a glove, molding to her body’s curves.

She tugged at the fabric, preferring her jeans, loose blouses and worn cowboy boots. But this night was for Audrey, the woman who’d done so much for her. Jessie wouldn’t complain.

The drive into Dallas was uneventful. Most of the traffic was headed the opposite direction as night fell over the city.

Audrey squirmed in the passenger seat, glowing with excitement. “I can’t wait to get there.”

Following the GPS mounted on the dash, Jessie made it into the heart of Dallas and found the building. She parked the SUV in a parking garage and helped Audrey out.

Audrey laughed, bubbling with excitement Jessie couldn’t get in to. “First stop is the ladies’ room.”

The huge oil paintings in the windows of the gallery were of fields of blue bonnets and pastures of Bermuda hay bent in the wind. The images reminded her of the day she had ridden out across the Rafter M Ranch on Scout.

Jessie’s chest felt like someone had it in an iron grip, squeezing hard. She almost backed out. She could fake a stomachache and offer to sit in the vehicle in the parking garage.

One look at Audrey’s face, and Jessie knew she couldn’t disappoint her friend.

“Oh my. He’s wonderful! I never knew B—he had it in him. Look at the live oak tree in the field. It looks real, like I could feel the bark.” Audrey hurried for the door.

Jessie followed. The crowd inside wore designer suits and cocktail dresses, making Jessie glad she’d worn Audrey’s dress. Her sundress would have looked like what it was, a thrift-store hand-me-down.

“Jessie, honey!” a familiar female voice called out. Mrs. McFarlan engulfed her in a bear hug that left her breathless. “I miss having you around the house. When are you coming home?”

“It’s good to see you too, Mrs. M.” Jessie returned the woman’s hug, that perpetual lump in her throat refusing to budge. Her gaze panned the room, her heart pounding against her ribs as she searched the faces for Brody’s.

“It’s too bad Brody didn’t come with us,” Mrs. M licked her lips, shifted her eyes and went on. “Maybe if he’d known you were going to be here, he’d have changed his mind. Isn’t this exciting? I’ve never been to an art gallery before. Angus and Colin brought me as a special treat.”

Jessie’s hopes plummeted.

“I’ll be right back,” Audrey assured her. “Go on in without me.”

Angus and Colin stood in front of a painting of an old barn that appeared vaguely familiar. Jessie excused herself from Mrs. M and angled away from the McFarlans, heading into a different room, separate from the huge front room of the gallery. The lighting was muted, a soft, luminescent glow from the recessed bulbs in the ceiling. Each painting had special lights shining on it.

Too upset to care about what was on the canvases, it was several moments before the images caught her attention.

Jessie gasped at a painting of a brindle horse rearing into the sunshine, its dark mane and tail flying out.

She’d recognize Scout anywhere, with the caramel-colored blaze on his forehead. The artist had captured the animal’s beauty as well as his spirit. The woman standing in front of the animal had long, flowing blonde hair caught by the wind. Her hand was raised to calm the horse. Jessie recognized herself and could feel the love the woman in the painting had for the horse.

For several long minutes, Jessie studied the bold strokes. Curious about the other paintings in the room now, she moved to the next and gasped.

A green canopy hovered over a blue-green pool of water. Sunshine dappled the ripples on the surface where there was a simmering image of a naked woman floating on her back, her blonde hair fanning around her. Though she was naked, her private parts were strategically concealed beneath the ripples of water and dark shading of the overhanging branches. The image invited her to step into the painting and dive into the pool. She could feel the cool water swirling around like it had that day she’d been skinny-dipping in the swimming hole. The painting was of her, the woman’s eyes were closed, but Jessie knew—the painting was her.

The next painting was a close-up of her face, gray-blue eyes staring back at her as if from a mirror. Only the painting showed
more
. Jessie could see past the eyes into the soul of the woman on the canvas, and her heart ached with the beauty of each stroke of the artist’s brush.

Moving to the next painting, she saw herself with her head thrown back, her eyes alight, the gray irises nearly black with passion.

Her pulse pounding, core tightening, she relived the intensity of making love to Brody amongst the stacks of boxes in the saloon storeroom. Her breath caught and held, and she pressed a hand to her chest in a half-assed attempt to still her thundering heart.

Footsteps sounded, headed her way. Even before she turned, Jessie knew who stood behind her as electricity filled the air. She turned and her heart broke all over again. Brody stood there in a black tuxedo, his dark hair slicked back and his brown eyes dark pools of secrets. God, he was so beautiful it made her want to cry all over again.

Brody had been watching for Jessie. When she arrived, he’d stood back, out of her view, observing her reaction to the paintings. As she passed each canvas, he felt as if he’d exposed another part of him, peeling back the layers of the walls he’d constructed around himself and the art he’d learned was so much a part of him.

He’d spent the past week and a half painting, amassing a collection of images that haunted him during the day and well after he fell asleep at night.

The room Jessie now stood in was his best work, every stroke coming straight from his heart.

When she turned to face him, he held his breath, afraid she’d be offended at how he’d depicted her in oil. He felt he’d made himself vulnerable to her, exposing his heart for the world to see. He’d painted these creations as a way to express how deep his emotions ran for Jessie.

Would she see what he did and know what it meant to him?

Her gaze rose to meet his, her face full of wonder. “You painted all of these?”

He nodded.

She turned to the painting of her face glowing with passion, her lips parted in a soft O as she succumbed to desire. “They’re so real…and…beautiful.” Jessie reached toward the painting as if to touch the woman.

Brody took her outstretched hand. “You’re not mad I painted you without your permission?”

“Mad?” She snorted and stared up at him, shaking her head. “I’m stunned. But you have it all wrong. I’m not nearly that beautiful.” She touched her hand to her straightened hair, heat rising into her cheeks.

He tugged her toward him and lifted her chin with his finger. “If you could see what I see, you’d know the paintings speak the truth.”

“You see me like that?” she whispered, her gaze shifting to his lips. Hunger burning from her gray-blue eyes.

Brody brushed his mouth across hers, tempted to forget everything else, but he couldn’t. Not until he said what he’d rehearsed a thousand times that day. He had to get it right, or risk losing the woman who’d fed his muse, breathed passion into his work and made him want to be a better man.

“Jessie, ever since I met you, my thoughts have been all over the place. I didn’t want to come home, and once I did, I didn’t want to stay.”

She drew in a sharp breath and nodded, her bottom lip trembling so slightly he thought he’d imagined it…until she bit down on it. “You always said you weren’t staying.”

Lifting her hands to his lips, he stepped closer. “Then I met a sassy cowgirl who could grill a burger like nobody’s business but couldn’t cook in a kitchen to save her life.”

Her brows knit and she stared down at where his hands held hers. “I’m learning,” she said, her voice catching.

“I don’t care if you burn every meal. You taught me something more important than putting dinner on the table.” He tipped her chin up, forcing her to stare into his eyes. “You taught me how lucky I am to have a family, and not to neglect those very important relationships. They might not be around forever.”

Her lips quirked on the edges. “That was a no-brainer.”

“Maybe to you, but I was too busy thinking of myself to look around and care about others.” He cupped her cheek in his hand. “You also reminded me that home truly is where the heart is.”

“Would that be in Seattle?” she asked so softly he barely heard her words.

Brody shook his head. “No.”

She glanced around the room. “Dallas?”

“No.” He brushed his lips across hers. “It’s anywhere you are.”

“Me?” she said, touching a hand to her breast. Tears welled in her eyes. “But you’re going back to Seattle.”

“If I asked you to go with me, would you?”

She stared at him for a long time. “Don’t tease me, Brody. I couldn’t bear it if you were only pulling my leg.”

“You didn’t answer me,” he prompted.

“Would Scout be welcome? He’s all the family I have left.”

“Scout will always be welcome.”

“Then, yes.” She slid her hands around his neck. “Yes, Scout and I would follow you to Seattle, Bozeman, San Francisco and Timbuktu.” She leaned her forehead against the lapels of his suit. “Just don’t leave without me because, you see, I’ve made the ultimate blunder and fallen in love with you, your mother and your two brothers. I want to be with you and all of your family.”

He drew her into his arms and cradled the back of her head. “It’s a good thing, darlin’, because I plan on staying at the Rafter M Ranch for a very long time and I want you with me.”

A sob rising up her throat, Jessie flung herself into his arms and clung to him.

He kissed her long and hard, his tongue pushing past her teeth to claim hers.

Brody forgot where he was and would have gone on all night, kissing Jessie, but someone cleared her throat at the other end of the room, breaking through the haze of happiness.

His mother stood in the entrance to the room, Colin and Angus at her side. She beamed from ear to ear, touching a hand to her chest. “Oh, Brody. I didn’t know you had so much talent. I’m your mother. I should know these things.”

Brody pulled Jessie into the crook of his arm and faced his family. “I didn’t tell anyone. The only reason Angus knew was because he caught me red-handed with my paints, canvas and easel out at the hunting cabin.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you were so well-known?”

He shrugged. “I wasn’t sure how you and my brothers would react to finding out your son and their brother was an artist.”

“Are you kidding me?” Colin burst into the room and hugged Brody, pounding him on the back. “I can’t get over what you’ve accomplished. It’s…” he shook his head, “…it’s amazing. And to think, I knew Brody McFarlan when he was a country boy on the ranch.” He grinned and glanced at the paintings in the room, his eyes rounding. “Wow. And these are even better than the landscapes.”

Angus, Colin and Mrs. M studied the paintings, their brows furrowing.

Mrs. M was first to say something as she stood in front of the creek painting. “Is this who I think it is?” She faced Jessie and winked. “You’re beautiful, my dear. And it might interest you to know that Brody was conceived in that pool.”

Angus and Colin both studied the painting and looked back at Jessie.

“I don’t know if I’d want my girlfriend’s naked body hanging in an art gallery for all to see,” Colin said.

“You can’t see anything important,” Jessie said. “And I’m flattered he made me look better than I really look.”

Angus and Colin both stared at her.

“You’re kidding, right?” Angus said.

“Have you looked in the mirror lately?” Colin asked. “You’re freakin’ gorgeous.”

Jessie’s cheeks reddened. “Thank you.”

“If you’ll excuse us, I wanted to show Jessie something.” Brody grabbed Jessie’s hand and led her toward the door.

Behind them, Mrs. M said, “Two down. One to go.”

Jessie glanced over her shoulder, wondering what the woman meant.

Mrs. McFarlan had leveled her gaze on Colin. “You’d better get busy. The two months are almost up.”

Curious, Jessie almost stopped to ask, but Brody had other plans for her and she didn’t want to let him out of her sight.

He led her through the gallery, waylaid by half a dozen people who wanted to congratulate him on his work and increasing sales.

Brody nodded politely, thanked them and pressed forward.

At the back of the gallery was a hall with a door at the end. He didn’t slow until they were through the door. He closed and locked it behind them.

“What is it you wanted to show me?” Jessie asked, glancing around a darkened room with a long white-leather couch and mahogany desk. “Did you save one of your paintings in here?”

“No. I wanted to do this.” Brody pulled her into his arms and kissed her all over again.