Authors: Stacey Coverstone
A few moments later, the door opened and the maid ushered him into the foyer. “Please wait here. Mr. Stillwell will be with you momentarily.”
A grand staircase rose in front of him like a great marble tidal wave, with rooms branching off of the circular foyer. Wyatt looked up. The turquoise sky peeked through a large skylight two stories above. He shifted his weight from one foot to another. It had been crowded the night he’d been here for the fundraiser, making it difficult to notice all the details of the home, not that he cared two hoots about it. He had nothing to do now but wait, so he glanced around at the surroundings. The floor was travertine marble, same as the staircase. A large round oak table stood in the center of the room. A glass vase filled to the brim with red roses sat on top. Oil paintings in ornate gold frames hung on the walls. Wyatt made a small “humph” sound. To him, the whole atmosphere reeked with pretentiousness.
Fifteen minutes later, Stillwell had still not appeared, but Wyatt was prepared to wait all day if he had to. He was a patient man. When Stillwell finally waltzed down the staircase, Wyatt nearly laughed out loud. The man resembled a greased pig in a silk robe.
“Have I interrupted your sunbathing, Addison?” he asked, not bothering to hold in a chuckle. Stillwell’s face was beet red and glossed to a high sheen. He extended a pudgy hand. Wyatt kept his own hand firmly clutched around his hat and fixed the rat with a steady gaze.
“My, my. To what do I owe this visit?” Stillwell asked.
Wyatt’s expression sobered. “I’ll get right to the point. I came to tell you to leave Jordan Mackenzie alone. Call off your pit bulls or you’ll have me to deal with.”
“I’m afraid I have no idea what pit bulls you are referring to. Penny was my only pet, God rest her little doggie soul.” Stillwell pointed to an enormous oil painting of a white poodle hanging on the back wall.
“You know who I’m referring to. Joe Campbell and Cimarron Cruz, the two scumbags who carry out your dirty work. They ran Jordan off the road yesterday and could have killed her. You’re lucky the three of you aren’t locked in jail already.”
Stillwell sauntered around the oak table tapping his chin with his finger. “Now that you mention it, I think I did hear something about a mishap Ms. Mackenzie had. Such a shame.”
Wyatt’s tone remained even, but inside he seethed. His eyes grew hard as he moved forward. He stood over the other man a good six inches and could have squashed him under his thumb like a bug. “Don’t give me that bullshit, Addison. You and I have known each other too long. I understand how you operate, and I know Campbell and Cruz are on your payroll. No one else would hire a couple of thugs like those two. I’m warning you to leave Jordan alone. She doesn’t want to sell the Lucky Seven.”
“Who made you her mouthpiece?”
“I did.”
“I’d suggest you mind your own business, Wyatt. You might find yourself in a heap of trouble in you don’t.”
Wyatt’s voice dropped low. “That sounds like a threat.”
Stepping back and wiping his perspiring brow with a silk hankie pulled from his robe pocket, Stillwell said, “I’ve got no quarrel with you, friend. Not yet. Why are you getting yourself all worked up over that woman’s affairs anyway? She’d never get an offer as good as mine for that pathetic piece of dirt Lydia Albright called a ranch. Ms. Mackenzie would be wise to accept.”
Wyatt snorted. “If it’s so pathetic, why do you want it so bad? Because a witch up in the mountains told you it’ll make you rich?” His eyes narrowed into slits.
Stillwell’s widened. “I repeat, what’s it to you anyway?”
Wyatt stood mute, grimacing.
A gleam flashed into Stillwell’s eye. “Oh, I get it. You’ve got the hots for the young lady. It’s becoming crystal clear now.”
“Watch your mouth.”
Stillwell egged him on. “You might be interested in knowing you have some competition. I’ve heard both Cimarron and Joe discussing your pretty young thing. Something to the effect of wanting to get a piece—”
Wyatt dropped his hat and lunged. Stillwell hopped out of his grasp as quick as a jackrabbit. He yanked a whistle from his robe pocket and blew it hard. The screech was piercing. Two enormous men rushed from around the corner and tackled Wyatt. He went down on his side with a heavy thud. As one man bent over to haul him up, Wyatt lashed out with his foot. His kick connected with the man’s groin. That man fell back, grabbing his crotch and wailing in agony. Wyatt stumbled to his feet and swung at the other assailant. His blow landed squarely on the man’s jaw, but it didn’t seem to faze the guy. He grabbed Wyatt’s arms and twisted them behind his back like a pretzel.
“Let go of me, jackass!” Wyatt yelled, struggling to break free. Suddenly, the man spun him around and punched him in the face, splitting his lip. Wyatt felt hot blood drip onto his chin.
“That’s for hurting my pardner,” the man drawled.
Dizzy, Wyatt staggered, but recovered, clenched his fist and delivered one hard punch to the man’s gut, sending him to one knee. “That’s for being a stupid bastard.” He rubbed the back of his hand against his bloody lip and took a defensive step back. The big man lumbered to his feet. His partner still lay on the floor, moaning. Wyatt and the giant stared each other down like bulls in the ring.
Stillwell, standing off to the side, clapped his hands. “Horatio, that’s enough amusement for one day. Please escort Mr. Brannigan out now.” On command, the man lurched toward Wyatt, making a grab for his shirt.
Wyatt elbowed him in the ribs. “Keep your damn hands off me, Godzilla. I’ll let myself out.” He bent down, picked his hat up off the floor, and dusted it off as he strode toward the door. He flung it open and paused only long enough to remind Stillwell, “Tell your goons to keep away from Jordan or there’ll be hell to pay.”
Stillwell chuckled behind him. “Do come again, Wyatt. It’s been entertaining.”
~ * ~
After reading her grandpa’s personal, cherished letters to Lydia, Jordan’s first reaction was to share the news with Wyatt. Of all people, she thought he’d be interested in learning about Lydia’s past, but more than that, she felt comfortable talking to him about anything. Generally, it wasn’t like her to become close to someone so quickly. After Drew’s betrayal, she imagined she’d be extremely cautious the next time she found herself interested in a man—if that time ever came again. But it was different with Wyatt. There was something about him that put her at ease. He made her laugh and kept her on her toes. When he was around, she felt protected, happy, and desirable. She liked that about him.
He made it known, in more ways than one, that he was attracted to her. It was in the way he looked at her, so intently as to read her most intimate thoughts. Every time his gaze fixed on her, her senses reeled. But it went deeper than sexual attraction. He went out of his way to help her, teach her. He genuinely wanted her to learn about ranching and horses. It was obvious he enjoyed spending time with her, as she did with him.
Daydreams helped pass the day. Later that afternoon, Cole returned from town to secure his tools for the evening.
“I’ll be over tomorrow to start work on the sidewalk,” he said.
They sat on the stoop drinking lemonade. It would have been easy for Jordan to tell him about the box of letters she’d found. She was still electrified at having discovered the reason behind Lydia leaving her the ranch. But she held back. This was something special, a secret she only wanted to reveal to Wyatt.
“You don’t always work on Saturdays, do you?” she asked.
“I’m making an exception.” Cole nodded toward the crumbling walk. “I’m worried about you tripping and hurting yourself. This sidewalk is hazardous the way it is. I’m surprised Lydia didn’t break her neck. Besides, I charge my clients double on Saturdays.” He winked and leaned against her shoulder. Seemed he was back to his old charming self.
“I hate for you to spend your weekend over here working, especially when I won’t be around to keep you company.”
He sighed good-naturedly. “I don’t need a reminder that you asked Wyatt to go with you to get that horse instead of me.”
She hadn’t considered he’d be hurt about that. “Technically, he offered to go with me,” she said softly.
Cole grinned. “I know. I’ve noticed the way the two of you look at each other. I know a spark when I see one. It started at the café that day.”
She tossed him a sheepish look and felt a flame of heat move up her neck. Was their mutual attraction that obvious?
“Come on, Jordan, no need denying it. There’s something going on between you two. You can tell me. I’m a big boy. I can handle the truth.”
“I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about. He’s my neighbor. He’s been helping me out, teaching me about horses. That’s what neighbors do.”
After another swallow of lemonade, Cole chuckled. “Okay. Have it your way, girl.”
“There’s nothing going on,” she insisted.
“Fine. Then you wouldn’t mind if I ask for another kiss.” He leaned in and tucked a strand of loose hair behind her ear.
She turned her head and wagged a finger at him. “Don’t be a naughty boy. You haven’t forgotten what I said about our working relationship, have you?”
“No, but I don’t believe this is about our working relationship.” Their gazes fastened long enough for Jordan to feel uncomfortable.
“I’m sorry, Cole. You’re a wonderful man. I’m glad we’ve become friends, but that’s all there will be between us. I hope you understand, because I’d like to remain friends.”
He stood up and handed her his empty glass. His dramatic sigh was heartfelt. “I hope that old codger realizes how lucky a guy he is.”
Rising to her feet, she graced him with a warm smile. A weight felt lifted from her shoulders.
“He’d better do right by you, or he’ll have me to answer to,” Cole finished.
She patted his arm. “You’re very sweet. Why hasn’t some good woman snagged you yet?”
“I’m very particular,” he replied. “Not just anyone will do.” His twinkling eyes searched her face again hopefully. Then he sighed for the second time. “Well, there’s no use in beating a dead horse. I’ll be on my way. I’ll probably show up around eight-thirty in the morning and get started with the jackhammer. Will that be too early?”
“Nope. I’ll be up. We’re leaving for Bent around nine.”
He nodded and sauntered to his truck, his broad shoulders sagging just a bit.
~ * ~
After hand washing some delicate items in the kitchen sink, Jordan wrung them out and dropped them into a laundry basket. She carried the basket outside and set it on the grass next to the clothesline—the drooping clothesline. She checked the tensioner near the pulley and determined she’d be able to tighten it with a wrench. Peeking into the sun-bleached clothespin bag hanging on the line, she spied only a few pins inside. Inside under the kitchen sink, she found an unopened package of pins and the wrench. Stepping back outside, she heard a grunting noise.
“Houdini!” The fat goat trotted around the yard with her lacy underthings dangling from his horns. She dropped the clothespins and ran, screaming out his name at the top of her lungs.
“Maaaaa!” Houdini waddled faster as she chased him in circles. When she accidentally caught him by a horn, he wiggled free and bleated and rammed her in the kneecap. Grabbing her knee, she screeched in pain.
“I’ve had it with you, you stupid goat!”
Houdini’s slit-shaped black pupils fixed on her, giving her the evil eye. When he reared in preparation to butt her again, Jordan raised the wrench and whacked him on the horn. Just like a cartoon character, the goat stumbled backward, and his beady little eyes started to spin in circles, as if he were seeing stars.
“Maaaaa,” he said softly. Seemed he was stunned.
Jordan panted. “Serves you right.” She hesitated and then warily approached. The goat didn’t move. His horns were still draped with her bra and underwear. She stifled a laugh. He looked funny. Keeping a watchful eye and her wrench raised, she gingerly plucked her delicates from his horns. Without turning her back, she marched to the laundry basket and dropped them in. Surprisingly, Houdini followed.
“Maaaaa,” he said.
She crossed her arms and eyeballed him. “Are you going to behave from now on? I have no time to deal with your shenanigans, and I especially won’t put up with your headbutting anymore.” She rubbed her knee and winced.
“Maaaaa.”
They stared at each other. Should she give the animal another chance or give him away to the first fool who’d take him off her hands?
“Will you follow me to the barn, or do I have to find a rope and haul you by the neck?” Not trusting him, she began walking backwards toward the barn. The goat trotted behind her but didn’t seem inclined to ram her. She glanced at her watch.
“It’s getting time to put the horses in their stalls. Do you want to help?” Grabbing a lead rope from a hook on the wall, she headed to the pasture. One by one, she led the horses to the barn and got them into their stalls without incident. Houdini stayed by her side and prodded the horses along if they gave Jordan any resistance. He stuck by her as she shook grain into the bowls, filled water buckets, and stuffed hay into the feeders.
“I guess you’re not such a bad little guy after all,” she told him when the job was done. She tentatively scratched the coarse hair on his back. His eyes closed and she scratched harder. “Guess you needed to learn who was boss around here. And I had to show you.” She offered him a piece of peppermint candy she had stowed in her pocket.
Houdini crunched down on the candy and thanked her with a friendly “Maaaaa.”
“You’re welcome. Now it’s time for both of us to call it a day. In you go.” She opened the gate to Buttercup’s stall. Houdini walked in obediently and started munching on hay without so much as a nasty grunt.
“What do you know about that?” Jordan mused aloud. “I should have whacked you the first day you horned me.” She closed and latched the gate and stroked Buttercup’s velvety smooth nose through the bars. “You sure are a sweet mare. I can see why Houdini is head over heels. I just might have to keep you as my own.”