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“Mac, baby,” Jillian cooed, “don’t jump on the bed...”
“Might fall apart,” Jesse muttered, scowling as he looked around the room again.
Jillian scooped Mac up in her arms, then turned to face him. “It’s perfectly fine for us.”
“The whole place could fit inside my living room.” He shoved both hands into his jeans pockets.
She flushed at that and said, “Not all of us need that much room.”
“Not all of us want to live in a box, either,” he countered.
“Really?” She tipped her head to one side and stared at him. “This was your idea, remember?”
“Don’t remind me,” he muttered darkly. When he got back to the ranch, he was going to talk to Will about this building. Get someone in here, a designer or something to make these places less...depressing.
His gaze fixed on the woman watching him. Today, she wore yoga pants that looked as though they’d been painted onto her long, long legs and defined a figure he’d only guessed at before. She had a dancer’s body, he thought, slim, but curvy in all the right places. The long-sleeved red shirt she wore over those black pants strained across breasts he’d really like to get his hands on and that tail of wavy blond hair hung over one shoulder as if drawing an arrow he didn’t need to the breasts he was thinking too much about. Her hazel eyes were more green than blue today and he wondered what that said about her mood.
“Jesse!” Mac leaned out from her mother’s grasp and held both arms out to him.
Dutifully, he stepped forward and plucked the girl off her mother’s hip.
“You don’t have to hold her,” Jillian said, as if apologizing for her daughter.
“If I had to, I wouldn’t want to,” he said, and turned to look at the little girl clinging to him. She tugged at him, as completely as Brody did. But with Mac, he didn’t feel the twin tug of guilt that he did with his nephew. “What do you think, Mac? You want to stay here or go back to the ranch?”
“Horsies!”
Grimly, he nodded. “That settles it. You can stay at the ranch until you find a better place. There’s plenty of room there and—”
“No,” Jillian told him.
“Excuse me?”
“Don’t hear that word often, do you?” she asked. “Well, you’ll have to deal with it. Mac isn’t even two yet. Of course she wants to be with the horses, but she’s not the one making decisions for our family. We’ll be staying right here.”
He saw the stubborn glint in her eyes and knew she’d dig her heels in on this, so he let it go. For now. But the damn truth was, she and Mac could stay at the ranch with no problem. There was the main house, his mother’s cabin, a couple guest cottages...more than enough room for one woman and a tiny girl, and if they were there, Jesse wouldn’t have to feel like he’d dropped them off in a dump.
“It’s not a dump,” she said, and he blinked. Had he said that last part aloud?
“You’re not that hard to read,” Jillian explained.
That made him frown. No man liked to be told he was clear as glass, and Jesse more than most had always prided himself on his poker face. Unless he wanted them to, no one knew what he was thinking. Well, until today.
“Dump!” Mac cried, clapping her hands.
He laughed shortly. “She agrees with me.”
“Again,” Jillian pointed out. “She’s a baby.” Then, turning around, she plopped both hands on her hips and gave the whole apartment a thorough look-see. Took her about ten seconds.
“I’ll get a couple of rugs, but the hardwood floors are gorgeous.”
“Not very big,” he said.
“I’ll paint the walls a pretty green, I think...”
“Won’t need much.”
“I’ll get a crib for Mac and put it at the foot of the bed...”
“Don’t get a big one.”
She inhaled and sighed heavily, ignoring him. “Maybe a little table and two chairs...”
“Very little table.”
“You know,” she said, suddenly spinning around to face him, fire in her eyes and battle on her features. “You’re not being helpful.”
“I’m not trying to be,” he said flatly. “This isn’t much bigger than that motel you and Mac have been staying at.”
“It’s big enough. I’ll get that job, take my time, look around and find something else when I’m ready.”
“You should be ready now,” he argued.
“I don’t take orders from you.”
“I’m not giving you an order. If I were, you’d follow it.”
“Is that right?” She actually laughed and if he hadn’t been so irritated, he’d have been charmed. That deep voice of hers sounded even sexier when she was laughing. Her eyes lit up and that incredible mouth of hers moved into a smile that was too damn seductive.
“You think a lot of yourself,” she said, “but nobody tells me what to do.”
“Somebody should,” he countered, then huffed out an exasperated breath. “Look, I suggested this place, but now that I’m seeing it again, it’s just not right. You and Mac, you deserve better.”
Irritation slid off her face and she gave him another smile. This one warmer than the last. “Thank you. And you’re right. We do. But I’m the one who’s going to get it for us.”
Hard to argue with pride since he had plenty of that himself. “Can’t talk you out of this?”
She spun around again, taking another all-too-brief look. When she met his gaze, she said, “Nope. But you could drive us to the motel and help me move our things over here.”
“Yeah,” he said tightly. “Guess I could do that.”
“Jesse! Horsies?” Mac asked, cupping her little hands on his cheeks to turn his eyes to her.
“Not right now, sweet girl,” he said and frowned at the disappointment in the tiny girl’s eyes.
Over the last couple of weeks, Mac and her mother had been at the ranch several times, and each time they were, the little girl had demanded time with the horses. He’d taken her up for her first ride himself and she hadn’t been able to get enough. He knew what that felt like. He’d been about six the first time Roy Sanders had set him on a horse, and Jesse had known in that moment that he’d found where he belonged. Now little Mac had fallen for the same animals that had stolen Jesse’s heart so many years ago.
So he tugged a lock of her hair gently and said, “We’ll see the horses later, okay?”
“You shouldn’t promise her something you might not be able to deliver on,” Jillian warned. “She doesn’t forget a thing.”
He slanted his gaze to hers and locked on like a targeting system. “I always keep my promises.”
Her eyes said she didn’t believe him, and Jesse wondered what had made her so distrustful. Of course, the minute that thought entered his mind, he remembered why she was in Royal in the first place. A man had lied to her, used her and left her pregnant and alone. The kind of man who did that was no man at all to Jesse’s way of thinking. And if he ever found the bastard, he’d make sure the son of a bitch paid for the pain he’d put so many people through.
But was it just the impostor who’d put that wary look in Jillian’s eyes? Or was it more? And why did he give a flying damn?
He didn’t.
“Come on,” he said abruptly. “I’ll take you back to the motel. We’ll get your stuff.”
“Stuff!” Mac laughed at the new word, and Jillian smiled.
Jesse met her eyes and he watched as her smile faded. Probably best, he told himself. If that mouth of hers kept curving so temptingly, he wouldn’t be able to resist tasting it.
And then where would they be?
Three (#u5a56c523-cf13-58f5-a5a9-a3e27e3d70ff)
The Texas Cattleman’s Club was impressive. A large, rambling single-story building, it was built from dark wood and stone, and had a tall slate roof. It looked just as a Texas men’s club should look, Jillian thought. Historically, the TCC had been a rich man’s private retreat. But all of that started changing several years ago, according to Lucy. Women became members, then took positions on the board and slowly but surely began to drag the TCC into the twenty-first century—with, no doubt, its oldest members kicking and screaming the whole way.
But Jillian could understand why the men had fought to hold on to one of their last bastions. Yes, she was a feminist. But there were times she wanted to be around only women. So why wouldn’t men want the same thing occasionally?
Still, their loss was definitely her gain. One of the first things the female members of the club did was to open a day care center at the club. It was just to the left of the entrance in what had once been a billiards room. There were lots of windows and a set of French doors that opened out onto a shaded grassy area where the kids could play. The walls were white, but dotted with artwork provided by the children who spent the days there.
There were tiny tables and chairs and rugs in bright primary colors. Pint-sized easels were arranged on one side of the room where kids could paint and draw. Shelves filled with books and toys were neatly arranged along one wall. There was a small half kitchen with a fridge, a sink and a microwave that came in handy for preparing snacks and meals for the kids.
Ginger Hanks, about fifty with graying red hair, bright blue eyes and a knowing smile, was the manager, and there were two other women employed there, as well. If she got the job, Jillian would be the third helper, and as she was shown around, she realized she really did want the job.
She’d always loved kids, and being able to have her little girl with her while she was at work was a bonus she couldn’t even imagine.
“The number of children we have every day differs,” Ginger was saying as she led Lucy and Jillian around the room, taking a tour. “Sometimes it’s twenty, other days it’s five or six. Members of the club are welcome to leave their kids here while they use the facilities, or even if they’re going out to lunch or shopping or something. We also have a few children who are here every day while their parents work.”
“It’s a great place,” Jillian said and earned a wide smile of approval from Ginger.
“Thank you, we think so.” Ginger bent down to scoop up a crying baby from one of the cribs pushed against the wall. The instant she did, the infant stopped crying. “Of course, you have to love children to work here.”
“Oh, I do. I have a nearly two-year-old myself,” she said and half wished she’d brought Mac with her. But a job interview hadn’t seemed the right time to bring her daughter, so she’d left Mac at the Sanders ranch with Lucy’s mother.
“Lucy told me, and you’re welcome to bring her to work with you.” Ginger looked around at the kids coloring, doing their numbers and letters, playing with dolls or trains.
“I told you,” Lucy said, nudging Jillian.
“That’s a relief to me.” Jillian held out her hands toward Ginger and asked, “May I?”
The older woman gave her a long look before nodding and handing the baby over. Jillian cuddled the baby boy close and began an instinctive side-to-side sway. Ginger gave another approving smile.
“You’ve got a way with little ones, don’t you?”
“Oh, I love babies,” Jillian admitted. “I used to think I’d have a houseful of my own.”
“You’ve got plenty of time for more babies.”
Yes, she did. But she didn’t have a man in her life and since that wasn’t going to be changing anytime soon, Jillian could admit to herself that Mac would most likely be an only child. Just as she had been. The difference was, Jillian would make sure her little girl never felt as though she weren’t important. Mac would never know what it was like to listen to her parents shout at each other. Never know what it was to have those parents walk away from her without a backward glance. She would never have to doubt that she was loved.
Sighing a little, she told herself she could indulge her love for babies right here—if she got the job.
“That’s little Danny Moses, isn’t it?” Lucy asked, taking a peek at the baby’s face.
“Sure is,” Ginger confirmed. “He’s good as gold, too. His mama’s out on a lunch date with his daddy, so we’re keeping him happy here.”
Jillian’s heart hurt a little as she held the baby and looked down into that tiny face. Days were going by so quickly it could make her head spin sometimes. It seemed like just yesterday Mac was this size and now she was talking and walking, and Jillian knew she had no time to lose—it was time to build that future she’d dreamed of.
“I’m glad Lucy brought you here today,” Ginger said thoughtfully.
“Oh, so am I,” Jillian told her, flashing a smile. “I don’t want to put you on the spot or anything but I really would love to work here.”
“That’s plain to see,” Ginger assured her and took the baby from Jillian. “I’ve got another woman coming in for an interview later this afternoon. Once that’s done, I’ll be in touch soon.”
Jillian forced a smile, though she wanted to say, Don’t meet anyone else, hire me. “Thank you.”
When they turned to go, Jillian didn’t see Ginger give Lucy a wink and a thumbs-up.
* * *
All right, Jesse kept his promise.
Jillian leaned on the corral fence and watched her daughter sitting atop what looked like a gigantic horse. The afternoon sun was bright, but the air was already warm. Early summer in Texas wasn’t that different from Vegas weather. Of course, that was where the similarities ended.
In Las Vegas, the city was bright, crowded, noisy and jammed with locals and tourists. There was never a quiet moment unless you left the city and then you were in the middle of a desert, with no shade, no water, no trees. No nothing.
Here, though, there were oak trees, rivers, lakes, and there was quiet when you wanted it and plenty of noise to be found when you didn’t. People were friendlier, less cynical. Jillian already knew more people in Royal after two weeks than she had known in Vegas after five years of living there. It was a different sort of feeling in small-town Texas and it was just what she wanted for her daughter. Mac would grow up in a place where people would know her, look out for her. She’d have friends and a home and a mother who would always be there for her.
It had been a big day so far. A new apartment—that would be fine once she fixed it up—and a job interview that she really hoped would work out. And now, she was back on a ranch staring at a cowboy who turned her insides to mush. Jillian’s thoughts dissolved when a delighted squeal pierced the air. She fixed her gaze on the big man walking beside her baby and that horse. Jesse had one strong hand on her little girl’s back, steadying her, while he held the horse’s reins in the other hand, keeping the animal just as steady, Jillian hoped.
“Don’t be worried. My kids are all great with horses.”
Jillian turned to watch Cora Lee Sanders walk up to join her at the fence. In her sixties, Cora Lee was about five feet three inches tall, had thick, wavy, shoulder-length gray hair and sharp, grayish green eyes. Today she wore dark blue jeans, a yellow shirt beneath a black jacket and black flats. She also boasted a silver belt buckle at her waist that glinted in the afternoon sun. Cora Lee was every inch a matriarch. There were lines in her face, of course, but they were etched there by laughter, tears and years of living that had made her the woman she was today.
“It just makes me nervous,” Jillian admitted. “That horse is so big compared to Mac.”
Cora Lee smiled, laid her forearms on the top rail of the fence and watched her son walk slowly around the corral. “I can understand that. As mothers, we all will do whatever it is we have to to watch out for our children.”
“True.” She looked at Cora Lee and saw a woman who’d been through her own trials and had triumphed. Just as Jillian planned to.
“But in this case,” the older woman said, “worry is unnecessary. That horse? That’s Ivy. Sweet mare. She was one of Lucy’s first rescues. Would you believe when the vet first brought her here, you could count her rib bones, poor thing. Someone tied her up in a barn and then moved, never telling anyone Ivy was there.” Cora Lee’s mouth turned into a tight frown. “If it hadn’t been for one of the Stillwell boys cutting across the property taking a shortcut home from school and hearing her, she’d have died there, too.”
“That’s terrible.”
