The Cowboy's Housekeeper Page 13

  Fifteen

  The weeks crawled by. The intense heat of summer blended slowly into fall. The six-month “business arrangement” crept steadily toward an end as October opened its arms to the world.

  To Jessica’s dismay, Jason seemed more grimly determined than ever to keep his distance. After one or two more subtle attempts to capture his attention romantically, she scratched that plan. Every time she tried, his mocking eyes openly laughed at her. That man was a tough bird—one that couldn’t be led down the garden path easily.

  Late one afternoon, Jessica sat in a chair in the kitchen lovingly stroking a very pregnant Tabby, who had been renamed Tabacina when evidence of her condition proved that someone had made a grave error in gender determination. Lethargy dragged at Jessica’s limbs. The stress of living under the same roof with the man she loved, and the pain of knowing she could never have him, was taking a toll. She was tired.

  Jason came through the kitchen on his way to pick up Monica for their date that evening. She glanced up and her heart twisted in her chest. He looked tired too. In the last few weeks he’d taken very little time for his personal life. He left for work before sunup and returned long past sundown. The effort of keeping the two farms running efficiently must be exhausting. No matter how he had teased about the way he was going to spend his thirty thousand dollars, he must really be in financial need to put himself through all this misery. A wave of tenderness swept through her. She could manage to slip an extra thousand in his pay envelope when this job was over. The new children’s line wasn’t quite ready to launch; money wasn’t a problem. An extra thousand would undoubtedly come in handy for a struggling farmer.

  He stopped and knelt beside her. His clean smell washed over her, causing a tight knot to form in her throat. She closed her eyes momentarily fighting the urge to throw herself into his arms.

  “How’s the expectant mama coming along?” He asked lightly, running his large hand smoothly over Tabacina’s soft fur.

  Envy stabbed at her as she watched Jason’s strong hand tenderly stroking the cat. How she longed for the gentle touch of those hands.

  “Glowing,” she said, striving to keep her voice steady. “I’ve warned her that’s what happens to ‘loose’ women.”

  Jason chuckled softly and gave Tabacina one final pat before rising. “Now, what would you know about ‘loose’ women?”

  “Not much,” she admitted, and then grinned. “Tabacina could probably curl my hair with some of her wild experiences.”

  He leaned back against the counter, crossing his muscular arms. “When’s the big event?”

  “Huh?”

  His forehead dipped toward the cat. “When are the kittens due?”

  “Oh. Very soon—I think. I’m not too sure when her night of passion took place.” She chuckled, and heat threatened to creep up her neck.

  He ducked his head and forced her to meet his gaze. Jessica’s heart thudded. Finally, he spoke in a quiet, serious tone. “I used to lie awake nights for the first few months after the annulment wondering if anything had ever come from that one ‘night of passion’ we spent together.”

  Her pulse kicked into high speed. “Come out of it? What do you mean?”

  Jason continued to hold her gaze. “I wondered if maybe you were carrying my baby.”

  Emotions launched a battle in her. What did he take her for, someone who would deny her child his father? No, if that had happened—and she was heartbroken it hadn’t—she would have told the world to go to Hades and been back in Jason’s arms so fast it would have made everyone’s head swim. Equally as strong as her indignation, pain throbbed in her chest. Did he really think she wouldn’t have informed him about such an event?

  This conversation had become far too intense. She was too tired, her feelings too raw, to have such a serious talk right now.

  She sent Tabacina gently in her box and then faced Jason. Assuming a mock-serious voice, she said, “Jason, I really don’t know how to tell you this.” She paused effectively before continuing in dead earnest. “I have good news, and bad news.”

  Jason straightened, his arms falling to his sides and caution written all over his face. “What’s the good news?”

  “Weeeelllll,” she said, dragging out the announcement with agonizing suspense, “I was pregnant with your child—in fact I had quadruplets.”

  Horror crept over his face. “Four babies?!” he choked out.

  Jessica nodded.

  With a visible effort, he managed to get himself under control. “What’s the bad news?”

  Assuming the attitude of extreme shame, she hung her head. “I gave all four of them away as Christmas presents.”

  Jason let out an exasperated snort. “Doggone it. Jessica, that’s not funny.”

  There! That look of consternation on his handsome face was far more to her liking than the serious tone of a moment before. She let out a series of bubbly giggles. After a moment, a sheepish grin twisted his lips, and he took a playful swat at her shoulder. Jessica dodged his hand and dashed around the chair, placing it between them.

  Still laughing, he dashed sideways, and she compensated by going the other way. They played a game of cat-and-mouse for a moment, both laughing like children.

  Finally, he threw his hands up in defeat. “I’ll make you pay for that.”

  Jessica’s laughter caught in her throat. “I’m not afraid,” she taunted, and cocked her head. “Do your worst, Rawlings.”

  A loud knock on the back door echoed through the room.

  With a mock scowl at her, Jason yanked open the back screen. A smiling Rick stood there, a bouquet of autumn flowers grasped in his hand. “Hi, boss. Where’s the pretty lady?”

  Jason jerked his head brusquely toward Jessica, still standing breathless in front of Tabacina’s box. He brushed rudely past Rick and walked out the back door.

  To his date with Monica. Her heart sank as she watched him go.

  Rick threw a hesitant glance over his shoulder. “Have I come at a bad time?”

  “No, of course not. What can I do for you?” Jessica forced her attention on the young man in front of her.

  “These are for you, pretty lady.” He extended the bouquet of flowers proudly.

  She took them and automatically did what every woman does when receiving a bouquet of flowers—buried her nose in them. Not the sweet scent of spring blossoms, but these smelled of fresh air and rich soil and fragrant grasses. “They’re beautiful, Rick. Thank you.”

  “There’s a catch to them.” He grinned broadly.

  She couldn’t help but return the smile. “And what might that be?”

  “You have to agree to be my date for the hayride Saturday night.”

  “What hayride?” Jessica frowned.

  “The one Jason has every fall. Hasn’t he said anything about it to you?”

  A vague memory surfaced. “It seems he did mention it awhile back. Is it this Saturday night?”

  “Sure is. Every couple in love, engaged, or just ‘hoping’ will be there.” His expression turned hopeful. “What do ya say? Will you go with me?”

  Jason would undoubtedly be taking Monica. What else would she do, sit at home? “I’d love to.”

  She turned to find a vase for the flowers, but was interrupted when Rick scooped her up in his arms and whirled her around the room.

  “Fantastic!” he shouted.

  She offered him a glass of tea, and they spent a pleasant fifteen minutes in friendly chatter. Then he left to finish his chores.

  Jessica waved good-bye, then closed the back door and leaned against its hard surface wearily. Her mind drifted lazily over the conversation with Jason, and their playful game of chase. That Jason, the lighthearted one, put in an appearance every so often. Whenever he did, she fell even more deeply in love with him. The torture of being around him every day, yet so far away, was becoming unbearable. She couldn’t go on much longer. Soon she would have to throw in the towel, but her stubborn loving
heart just wouldn’t let her do it—yet.

  The week flew by with the farm crew preparing for the hayride Saturday night. The big wagon was hauled up to the farmyard, and covered with bales of hay. One of the large farm tractors was attached to it and stood ready and waiting for the happy couples. According to Rick, the wagon would go about five miles down the road, where a barbecue dinner awaited them. Jason hired several people to cook for the boisterous group. Apparently, Monica had helped him plan this year’s affair. Jessica tried not to feel hurt that he’d barely mentioned it to her.

  He had asked her if she was going with Rick, and when she confirmed she was, he turned and left the room in a dark mood. She sighed deeply. If Jason had asked her, she would have said yes. But of course, he hadn’t. No doubt who’d be at his side Saturday night, and it wouldn’t be her.

  She finished her chores as quickly as possible Saturday afternoon so she could be the first one in the shower this evening. The old relic of a hot-water heater had caused some trouble lately, providing only enough hot water for one person and leaving the other to shower rapidly in a stream of ice-cold water. With a triumphant smile, she barely managed to scurry past Jason that evening as he headed for the bathroom. Smiling pertly, she moved to close the door. “Sorry. I was here first!”

  Jason stepped back slightly, eyes narrowed. “Couldn’t you have showered earlier?”

  “I’ve been busy, too.” She tried unsuccessfully to close the door in his face.

  He stuck out a hand, effectively blocking her move, a mischievous twinkle invading his eyes. “You use all that hot water, and you’re a dead woman.”

  Jessica widened her eyes, and then blinked. “Would I do a thing like that to you?”

  “You have three times this week already,” he answered dryly.

  “Tough luck, Rawlings.” She threw her slight weight against the door.

  Unfortunately, he held his ground, his muscled arms easily blocking her attempt. “You fool with me, and I’ll turn off the hot water in the middle of your shower, Cole.” It was Jason’s turn to smile triumphantly.

  She mulled over his threat. Would he follow through? Maybe, but probably not. He was a tease, but surely he wouldn’t be that mean. He was just heckling her. Well, she could dish it out too.

  Sighing dramatically, she batted her eyelashes. “I think a nice cold shower is just what I need. I feel it will help me control myself around Rick tonight. You know how romantic hayrides can be.”

  He gave her a disgusted look. She seized the advantage and slammed the bathroom door loudly in his face. Giggling impishly, she stripped her clothes off and left them in a heap on the floor as she turned the shower knobs on full blast and hopped in. The hot water soothed her tired body. Humming softly, she closed her eyes while steam from the hot water filled the room.

  She’d just lathered her thick hair when the water changed from hot to ice-cold.

  He did it! He actually did it!

  “Jason, you dog!” she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  From the other side of the bathroom door he shouted, “Just thought I’d help ole Rick out, Angel. I know how passionate you can get.”

  She finished her cold shower in a fit of anger and blazed out of the bathroom, still boiling. Jason was nowhere to be seen. She tracked into her room and slammed the door, jarring windows throughout the house.

  She applied her makeup and then slipped on a pair of Fancy Duds designer jeans and a soft yellow top. A sound reached her—water running in the shower again. Throwing down her hairbrush, she rushed into the utility room and eyed the hot water heater. She had no idea how to turn it off. Instead, she took a large pail down from the top shelf, and filled it with cold water. In the kitchen, she dumped three trays of ice into the pail and tiptoed back down the hall. The water in the pail sloshed over the rim.

  She stopped in front of the bathroom door and turned the doorknob slowly, hardly believing her luck. The dummy had left the door unlocked. Creeping stealthily into the bathroom, she stopped just outside the shower door and listened to Jason singing a boisterous version of “Blow the Man Down,” totally unaware of his impending doom.

  Moving as quietly as she could, Jessica raised the heavy pail over her head. Then, with a screeching karate cry, she dumped the icy contents over the shower curtain. Caught by surprise, the last note of Jason’s song to sounded like the mating call of a banshee. When he issued a loud bellow of rage, she tossed the bucket aside and ran for her life.

  She dashed down the hallway toward the kitchen, intent on escaping the house where, with luck, the farm hands were readying the hay wagon. He wouldn’t pursue her there.

  But she’d forgotten how fast he was. She’d barely made the living room when her wrist was grabbed by a soapy hand and she was roughly whirled around to face him. Still covered in suds, his thick hair white with lather, his eyes bulged. At least he’d taken the time to wrap a towel around his middle.

  “Let me go.” She twisted her wrist, but his grip held.

  “Not a chance, Angel. You’re going to pay for that.”

  He dragged her toward the kitchen, with her screeching at the top of her lungs. When they reached the counter, he put a wet arm around her middle to hold her in place, and with his other hand turned on the cold water.

  “No! What are you going to do?”

  “Give you a taste of your own medicine,” he responded, a wicked laugh in the words.

  The laugh brought an answering one of her own, only hers held an edge of playful outrage. “But that’s what I just did to you. You started it.”

  She struggled, but could not free herself. Then he placed his hand on the back of her head and shoved her forward.

  “Stop it.” A scream ripped from her throat, but it sounded more like a laugh than anything. “I’m already dressed, you toad.”

  In the next instant, she sputtered as cold water hit the back of her head and splattered down her neck. Rivers ran down her face—her makeup would be ruined!—and saturated her hair. She let out another ear-piercing scream.

  A loud pounding on the door shattered their mini-war. They both stopped struggling, and Jason released her.

  “Who is it?” he shouted.

  “Jason? What in the world is going on in there?” Monica’s agitated voice reached them a moment before she opened the screen door.

  Monica entered the kitchen and stopped dead in her tracks, her eyes going wide. For a moment, no one moved. Jessica stood there, rivers of water streaming from her hair down her face, gathering makeup along the way. Her shirt was soaked, and clung to her skin.

  But Jason—

  She glanced sideways. There he stood wearing nothing but a towel, covered in soap suds, his mouth gaping like a large-mouthed bass.

  Jessica broke the tableau. She turned off the water.

  Monica folded her arms across her chest. “What in heaven’s name is going on here?”

  Jason looked her directly in the eye, his face as innocent as a cherub. “What are you talking about?”

  Monica’s jaw dropped. “What am I talking about? I heard screams halfway across the front pasture. And there you stand wearing…” Her hand gestured, and her face flushed crimson. “And there she stands, drenched to the core….”

  “Oh, that.” He shrugged his broad shoulders, seemingly completely at ease, as if he weren’t standing there nearly naked in front of the two women who loved him. “Jessica splashed dish soap in her eye, and apparently it stung. I heard her scream and I came running to help. I had to… flush it out.”

  Jessica turned a sideways look on him. Monica was no dummy. Surely she’d notice there was no soapy dishwater in the sink.

  His brow arched as if to say, “Are we through? “Now, if you ladies will excuse me, I need to finish my shower.”

  He made a hasty exit, leaving a dissatisfied Monica staring daggers at his back. When he was out of sight, she turned her glare on Jessica.

  No way in the world I’m getting into this
lover’s spat.

  Smiling, Jessica gestured toward the refrigerator. “Help yourself to lemonade. I need to get dressed…dry my hair…put on make-up.” She glanced at the puddles of standing water littering the floor. “I’ll take care of that later.”

  She left the kitchen at a near-run.

  Sixteen

  “Jessica, I need you here.” Barb wailed on the other end of the phone. “Macy’s is threatening to cancel their order if we don’t meet with them next week. The place is falling apart without you.”

  Jessica propped the phone on a shoulder and applied her makeup with her free hand. “They’re bluffing. They want a discount on their next order. We can afford to give it to them, can’t we?”

  “Well…yeah.” Barb’s voice held a world of reluctance. “But if we do that, Dillard’s will be next. And when the rest of our retailers catch wind—”

  Jessica cut her off. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll give Macy’s a call tomorrow. Everything will work out, you’ll see.”

  A brief pause sounded on the line. “We need you, Jessie. Everything is harder without you here.”

  Clutching the phone to her ear, Jessica gazed at the timer that told her she had less than two minutes before her baked beans needed to come out of the oven.

  “I understand,” she told Barb. “I’ll try to arrange a flight next week. We’ll work it out, okay?”

  Relief sounded in her partner’s voice. “Okay. Thanks, Jess. I can’t wait to have you back here, where you belong.”

  The words rang in Jessica’s mind long after she ended the call. Just where did she belong?

  The hayride kicked off to a roaring start with everyone in high spirits. Close to thirty couples showed up, Willis and Marcy among them. Jessica had to smother a laugh when she first saw Willis. His new jeans—obviously bought off the rack—bagged unmercifully, his western shirt was outrageously loud, and his new Stetson resembled Quick Draw McGraw’s. He was about as exciting as a cello player at a rock concert. Still, Jessica greeted him warmly and, almost against her will, caught his enthusiasm.