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“And has Brent started circling yet? Now that he knows you’re single?”
Jenna smiled. “You mean with his ‘I made the biggest mistake of my life letting you go’ speech? Not quite yet, but knowing my luck, he will soon.”
“What would happen if you ever dated him again? I mean, it was sweet and romantic when you were in love and dance partners....” The dreamy look was back. Now that Samantha was engaged, she wanted everyone to have their own happily-ever-after.
“He’d probably last about two weeks before he started looking over my shoulder for his next conquest. He just likes the chase. He isn’t and never was in love with me. Maybe I’m his backup plan for when he’s done playing the field.”
“Well, either way, he’s an idiot, too,” Samantha declared.
“It’s okay. He’s a good dance partner. And I’m not in love with him, either, anymore.” But she had been—very much so. The decision to keep working with him after he’d broken her heart was one of the hardest she’d ever made, but the smartest for her career. They really were good together and had two national championships to prove it.
A deep weariness hit Jenna in a crushing wave. She didn’t want to talk about Jeff or Brent or any other guy who’d left her. “Let’s get outside so you can show me this ranch of yours. Can I see your grandmother’s house? Where it all began?” Samantha had inherited her grandparents’ ranch last year, which was how she’d met Jack and fallen in love, leaving San Francisco to be with him.
Samantha giggled. “Where it all began. I like that. Maybe we should apply to make it a historical landmark.”
Jenna felt relieved that her subject change had worked. “It should be! The site where the extremely urban Samantha Rylant fell in love with mountains and a cowboy. It is kind of historic!”
They headed downstairs. Once outside, they walked down a narrow, rocky path that took them to the old ranch house. Its weathered white paint and sagging porch made it the complete opposite of Jack’s stone-and-glass modern home. Samantha took out a key. “We’re using it as my office and a guest house for friends and family.” She showed Jenna through the old rooms with their high ceilings and quaint wainscoting. Her office was so perfectly organized that it looked like one of those catalog photos of a home office, complete with neatly labeled baskets.
Jenna had never understood how Samantha had been able to live out here in the old, empty farmhouse by herself for days at a time. It seemed spooky to be alone in a house that had been closed up for years and was situated so far from everything. But now she got it. There was a cozy, comfortable feeling in the old home, such an air of happy history that Jenna couldn’t imagine not wanting to stay there.
Samantha locked the front door behind them and they started back up the path. Maybe the clean alpine air was exactly what Jenna needed. She inhaled huge lungfuls as they wandered through the ranch, trying to take in the purity of it and exhale all her anger. She just didn’t want to feel it anymore. Beyond the barn, they passed a few smaller corrals and started up a gravel road to the upper pastures, closer to the mountains.
Without a flat tire to worry about, the weathered ranch buildings and quiet pastures inspired serenity. The age-old mountains with their miles and miles of wilderness put her soap-opera troubles into perspective.
Samantha stopped by the wooden pasture fence. “Maybe we just need to set up some guidelines. You know, parameters to make sure you weed out the bad ones.”
“When you say weed, you’re not talking about plants, are you?” Jenna quipped.
“Men, of course!” Samantha had a look in her eye that Jenna recognized. It was her friend’s let-me-organize-your-life look.
Jenna leaned back against the fence to face her well-meaning friend, mourning the tenuous peace she’d found right before Samantha had spoken. “Did you really need help with wedding planning?” she asked. “Or did you get me out here because you wanted to fix things for me?”
Samantha laughed. “I do need help with the planning! But guess I did have a feeling, when we talked on the phone, that things weren’t going well. You always get hyper-cheerful when things are bad. Like you’re trying your hardest to pretend they don’t exist. So I figured I’d steal you away from your troubles for a weekend.”
“I don’t know if you can truly steal me from my troubles, Sam. They’re in my genes, I think! I mean, my mom puts up with my dad’s cheating. I’m a natural hereditary magnet for infidelity.”
“That’s ridiculous. Maybe you’re just too nice. You tend to believe the best about everyone.”
Jenna smiled ruefully. “You are very kind. But that’s the old Jenna. The post-Jeff version of Jenna is going to make sure to believe the worst.”
“No!” Samantha said laughingly. “I like my sweet friend. Don’t let one flaky musician change you.”
“Well, I have to do something different,” Jenna said. “Obviously my old ways aren’t working.”
“So let’s think of a plan that will keep you safe from cheaters.” Samantha was all business now. “Okay, this is the first guideline—no one who has been unfaithful. What do you think?”
Jenna smiled reluctantly. “That seems pretty obvious, so yeah.”
“And maybe you should rule out musicians. All those groupies are just too tempting.”
“Okay, no musicians,” Jenna agreed. After Jeff she had no problem giving up that particular category of men.
“You know,” Samantha said, “you do seem to go for these artsy types. Which makes sense because you’re an artist, too. But what about trying something different? San Francisco is full of all kinds of high-tech semi-nerdy, semi-creative types these days, right?”
“Well, yeah.” Jenna could feel the resentment in her stomach. “They make tons of money and they’re driving up the rents on all the apartments like you wouldn’t believe!”
“But that doesn’t mean they’re bad people. Someone like that might be perfect for you. Maybe another guideline should be—”
Jenna didn’t mean to cut off her friend, but the scrutiny of her love life was too much. Maybe she was just too raw after Jeff. Maybe it was a little too close to the advice her parents insisted on handing out at every opportunity. So she interrupted. “Okay, so no cheaters, musicians or artsy types. But mostly, I think I’m just going to take a break from being in a relationship.”
“But—” Samantha began.
“Sam, you’re in love. And it’s amazing! You found an awesome guy and you two will live happily ever after. And I know you want me to have the same thing. And who knows? Maybe I will someday. But right now I think this whole thing with Jeff was a sign.”
“A sign?” Jenna could see Samantha trying not to laugh. “You think everything is some kind of sign!”
“Not everything. But Jeff’s cheating is clearly a sign that I shouldn’t be in a relationship right now. I need to focus on my work and my dancing—without worrying about men.”
“Okay, okay.” Samantha bit her lip and studied Jenna closely, characteristically unsatisfied with her inability to make everything better. “I’m sorry if I overstepped.” She turned to look at the horses. “I’m just happy, Jen,” she said quietly. “And I want you to be, too.”
“I am happy,” Jenna said, moving so she stood next to Samantha. She looked at the horses grazing and the mountains unfolding behind them. The sun had sunk below the peaks and just the crags at the very top were lit up golden. A breeze shuffled through, chilling her skin. “When I’m dancing, I’m happy.”
“Well, that’s good to hear. You dance a lot, so that means you’re happy a lot.” Samantha must have felt the chill, too, because she shivered. “Let’s go in. I forgot to tell you, Jack has something really amazing planned for dinner.”
With one last look at the peaceful pasture, Jenna turned to follow her friend back to the house. For the first time in a week, she felt as if she was walking on solid ground. It might be hard to help plan a wedding right now, but Jenna was glad she was in this beautiful place, with the love and support of her best friend. There was comfort here, and she was grateful for any scrap of it she could get.
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_58edca48-79e6-5201-8a58-a221291988f2)
“JACK’S OPENING A RESTAURANT?” Jenna stood in front of the mirror in the elegant guest bathroom, staring at the dark circles under her eyes. She took another sip of the cappuccino she’d begged Jack to make her.
“Investing in it.” Samantha looked up from her exploration of Jenna’s makeup bag. “You always have the best stuff. Sparkly mascara? And look at this eye shadow—it’s turquoise!”
“Well, you know how ballroom dancers are. We love our makeup. The more outrageous, the better!” Jenna yawned, trying to cover it with her arm. She picked up her lip liner and repaired her ruby-red lips. She rarely went anywhere without makeup, and bright red lipstick was one of her essentials. It made her feel like a 1940s movie star.
Samantha set the bag down. “Anyway, his friend, who’s going to be the co-owner and chef, wants to come cook us all dinner and try out some stuff for the menu. But I think you’re too tired. I’ll tell Jack to reschedule.”
“No, don’t,” Jenna said quickly. “I don’t want to cause a hassle when you guys have set this up already.”
“We can do it another night.”
“The poor chef has probably been prepping food all day.” Jenna dabbed some concealer under her eyes. “There. I’ll just cover up the evidence and be good as new.”
“If you’re sure,” Samantha said. “I promise that tomorrow we’ll spend the entire day in our pajamas. You can sleep in, we’ll look at magazines and then we’ll go to bed as early as you want.”
“Deal,” Jenna said, adding on a little blush before turning around. “So let’s go down to dinner. Here I was, thinking life on the ranch would involve some barbecue at best, and you’ve got a fancy chef coming!” Jenna laughed. “Your life is never dull, Sam.”
“Jack keeps it interesting, always.” Samantha smiled as she spoke.
Jenna drained her coffee cup and hooked her arm under her friend’s. “I promise that tomorrow, when we’re in our jammies, we’ll talk all about your wedding.” Maybe after a good night’s sleep she’d be able to do it without falling apart. They started down the stairs. “So who is this mysterious chef, anyways?”
“Someone Jack knows from when he lived in New York. It turns out he grew up out here and moved back recently. He’s really excited about the restaurant. Can you imagine, four-star cuisine in Benson?”
“Will there be anyone to eat it? This town’s like a postage stamp. Smaller. It’s like the glue on the back of a postage stamp!”
“Jenna! It’s not that small. There are all kinds of people who live outside of town. They’ll be thrilled to have a great place to eat. Plus, we get a lot of tourists.”
“Well, I’m impressed. Jack the restaurant entrepreneur. Is there anything that fiancé of yours doesn’t do?”
“Well, I don’t cook.” Jack was waiting for them at the foot of the stairs with a glass of sparkling wine for each. “Or at least not well. So tonight we get to try out a few of the dishes my partner, Sandro, has been planning for the menu.”
Jenna took the glass he offered, trading him for her coffee cup. “You might not cook but you do provide excellent drinks!”
He laughed. “Thanks, Red. I aim to please.”
A knock on the front door had the dogs jumping up suddenly from their bed by the fire, huffing and growling. “Quiet,” Jack commanded, and went to answer the door, the dogs following on his heels.
“He’s great, isn’t he?” Samantha said, looking after him and sipping her wine.
Jenna felt the nip of jealousy for the second time today and shoved it down hard. “He is a great guy,” Jenna assured her. She walked over to an end table and set her wineglass down. “So let’s go help him out.”
A blast of cold air preceded Jack into the room as he wrestled with the bags of groceries tucked under his arms. Jenna grabbed a bag stuffed with vegetables right before he dropped it, brought it into the kitchen and set it on the granite countertop.
As she turned away, she came up against a chest. An intriguingly muscular chest. It was wrapped up like a present in a tight white T-shirt. But instead of a bow, there was a belt with a silver buckle. A picture of a cowboy on a bucking horse was etched into the silver and Jenna stared at it for a split second before a tanned, lean arm reached around her and set a bottle of wine on the counter. “Hey.” It was a low voice, kind of husky, and she finally looked up.
The owner of the chest, T-shirt, belt buckle and arm took a step back. His skin was olive-toned, and his thick black hair curled over his forehead and down to his collar in the back. Dark brown eyes under black brows studied her face. He smiled and his full lips parted to reveal teeth that were white and just a little crooked.
“Hey,” she managed to whisper back, and in an attempt not to gape at the tall man who looked as if he’d swaggered straight off the streets of Spain or Italy, she reached out and took the cloth grocery bag from his hand and set it on the counter behind her.
“I’m Sandro,” he said quietly.
Of course. Sandro the chef. Couldn’t Samantha have warned her that he was absolutely gorgeous? She was probably so in love with Jack that she hadn’t even noticed. “Stevens. I’m Jenna. I mean...I’m Jenna Stevens.” Her cheeks were on fire and something was wrong with her brain. She stuck out her hand and he took it, wrapping it in his long fingers and giving it a firm shake. “Um, nice to meet you. I’m a friend of Samantha’s. Visiting. From San Francisco.”
“I see. Well, I hope you’re hungry.”
“I’m always hungry,” Jenna blurted out. “I mean, I try not to eat too much—I’m a dancer.... You know, dieting and all.” This was ridiculous. Just a scant hour ago she’d given Samantha a speech about how her focus was going to be on her career, and yet now she couldn’t even think straight, or talk, just because of one good-looking guy. Where were Samantha and Jack? This was awkward.
A noise at the door made her turn in relief but it wasn’t her friends. A boy shouldered in through the kitchen door with a chest cooler clutched in his hands. It looked heavy. “Sandro, you dick! Didn’t you know you could park in the back, right by the door?”
“Paul! Manners, bro,” the tall man commanded.
Paul? The boy set the cooler down by the door and turned around. The bright smile Jenna recognized from earlier today lit his face.
“Jenna!” He bounded toward her and then stopped, as if not sure what to do next.
Jenna stuck out her hand and he shook it. “Good to see you again, Paul. What are you doing here?”
“Helping my big brother. The master chef. I was hoping I’d see you!”
“How the hell do you two know each other?” Sandro’s voice was gruff with suspicion.
“Manners, bro,” Paul reminded him, and Jenna saw the sassy teenager in him and couldn’t help smiling.
“We met today, on a dirt road,” she told Sandro. “I had a flat and Paul changed it for me. It was really very kind of him. I’m not sure what I would have done if he hadn’t come along.”
“Well, nice to know he’s good for something.” There was pride in Sandro’s eyes that belied his belittling comment.
“You mean besides hauling all your gear? And chopping your vegetables?” Paul was smiling at his big brother’s needling. Clearly these two had a close relationship.
“Hey, I’m paying you a good wage.”
Paul sighed. “Yeah, you are, actually. I guess that means I’d better get to work. Great to see you again, Jenna.” He disappeared out the door and Sandro and Jenna watched him go.
Sandro stood so close that Jenna could feel heat radiating from him. “He’s a nice kid, your brother. I can’t tell you how helpful he was today.”
“Good.” Sandro looked down at her and she noticed again how full his mouth was and the dark, sooty way his lashes rimmed his eyes. “Though I gotta ask. Paul was down in our southeast pastures all day. It’s the most remote area of our ranch. How’d you end up on a dirt road out there?”
“You were on a dirt road?” Samantha’s voice came from behind her and Jenna turned to see that her friend and Jack had both entered the room and were staring at her with similar expressions of surprise. “Was this the mishap you mentioned earlier?”
“Well, yes, but—”
“Jenna, you could have been lost for days out there!”
“Well, I wasn’t.” Jenna could feel her face getting hot again. The last thing she wanted was a scolding in front of Sandro, whom she barely knew, and who probably already thought she was nuts after her garbled introduction. He had stepped away and was unpacking groceries directly behind her. She swore she could feel the air move every time he did.
“How did that happen, anyway, Red?” Jack wasn’t laughing yet, but she could hear it behind his voice.
“Um...I had a little trouble with the map.”
“Upside-down again?” Samantha asked.
There was a snort of barely contained laughter behind her. Jenna glanced back and saw Sandro’s shoulders shaking with mirth.
“Maybe,” Jenna answered, grinning despite her embarrassment. Samantha knew her too well.
Sandro walked by her to put a bottle of white wine in the refrigerator, more composed now. “Ah,” he said mildly. “So this is a common problem?”
“Okay, so I can be a little directionally challenged!” Jenna admitted. “Can we change the subject?”
“Jenna’s a really great dancer!” Paul was closing the back door behind him with his shoulder, his arms wrapped around a cardboard box. He obviously wasn’t aware that Jenna was already the subject of conversation.
“And how would you know that?” Sandro turned from the refrigerator and looked from Paul to Jenna, concern etching lines onto his face.
“She was dancing when I found her.”
This wasn’t good. Jenna felt a little too fragile to be the butt of all the jokes this evening. “Well, just a moment of practice while I got up the nerve to change my tire.”
“No, it was awesome. She did these turns and then this shake-and-roll thing.” Paul imitated Jenna’s step so flawlessly that her jaw dropped. He’d imbued those two moves with more grace than she could ever muster.
