Cowboy Up. Vicki Lewis Thompson
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in better, but that’s exactly what her change of clothes appeared to suggest.
“Let’s find us a place to sit,” Emmett said.
Clay stifled a groan. Trapped. He’d considered skipping lunch completely, but he was starving and he hadn’t come up with a decent excuse for staying away. Traditions had taken on new significance since Jonathan’s death, and the hands made every effort to be there at noon each weekday.
Nick and his wife, Dominique, a tall woman with her glossy brown hair cut short, sat at a table with Sarah. Emmett ushered Emily in that direction, and Clay had no choice but to follow.
Nick stood as Emily approached. The Chance boys, thanks to a firm hand from Sarah, had the manners of diplomats. Sarah’s mother, Lucy, had been an NYC runway model, and Sarah had inherited her mother’s classic beauty and carriage. Although she was in her mid-sixties and her sleek bob was silver, she could pass for a woman fifteen years younger.
Sarah had taken over Clay’s education in the social graces, too, and he was grateful. She gave a slight nod of approval as Clay helped Emily into a chair and introduced her to Dominique, who hadn’t been part of the ranch the last time Emily visited.
Finally he sat down, and there was Emily, right beside him, giving off a fragrance that reminded him of sun and salty air. He’d only seen the ocean once, during a brief vacation taken by one of his foster families. On that trip he’d noticed lots of girls who looked like Emily, blond and wearing skimpy clothes to show off their tans. She was exotic, and he was unfortunately, drawn to that.
He’d hoped to escape sitting at the same table with her, and now here they were knee-to-knee and thigh-to-thigh. If Clay had thought he could get away with it, he would have scooted his chair closer to Sarah, on his other side. But that would look too obvious, so he worked on not making body contact.
No one else sat at their table for eight. Once the food had been passed and everyone had started to eat, Sarah glanced over at Emily with a friendly smile. “You look like you’re getting serious about this ranch visit. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you in jeans and boots.”
“Nope, you haven’t.” Emily put down her drumstick. “I bought these a while ago, but this is their first outing. I’m hoping I’ll be able to go riding this afternoon.”
“The problem is, I have errands to run,” Emmett said, “so I thought maybe Clay could take Emily out for an hour or so.” He bit into a fried chicken breast.
Yikes. This was getting worse by the minute. Fortunately, Clay had an excuse. He quickly chewed and swallowed a forkful of potato salad. “I’d be glad to, but I have plans for this afternoon.”
“Collecting more semen?” As Emily picked up her drumstick again and looked at him, she had a definite gleam in her eye. “I find that fascinating. I’d love to watch.”
Damn it, she was flirting. Well, it wouldn’t get her anywhere. “Sorry, but that’s not on the schedule. I have another job I need to do.” He buttered his ear of corn and sent a pointed glance in Sarah’s direction. She’d deliberately created some errands for Emmett to run today because they needed him gone for a few hours so they could start setting up for tomorrow night’s party.
Emmett expected a party, of course. But Sarah had decided to surprise him by switching the venue from the Spirits and Spurs—Josie’s bar in the nearby small town of Shoshone—to an old-fashioned cowboy cookout where they’d all ride in on horseback. Clay thought Emmett would love that, so he’d volunteered to truck the tables, benches and firewood out there and build a fire pit.
“That’s true, you do have chores this afternoon,” Sarah said. “But you might be able to work in a ride after they’re done.”
“Maybe I could help with the chores,” Emily said.
No. That’s all he needed, to be stuck alone with her on party detail.
“That’s a great idea,” Sarah said. “Then he’ll be done that much faster. I would take you out riding myself, Emily, but I’ve got a list a mile long.”
Emmett split open a steaming biscuit and piled butter on it. “And it’s all to do with my sixtieth, I’ll bet. I keep telling you folks not to make a fuss over this.”
“We’re not making a fuss,” Nick said. “We’ll all head to the Spirits and Spurs tomorrow night like we usually do for special occasions. We’ll have some drinks and a meal. Somebody’s liable to drag out a birthday cake, but that’s about the extent of the fuss.”
“It better be. And no presents. Is that understood?”
“Too late, Dad,” Emily said. “I hauled presents all the way from Santa Barbara, and you’re gonna open them or else.”
His expression softened. “Sure, sweetheart. I’ll make an exception for you, but nobody else had better be showing up with packages.”
“I can’t guarantee that won’t happen.” Nick put down a corn cob and reached for another. “But I can guarantee that some of them will be gag gifts, so you might as well resign yourself to the process, Emmett. The hands deserve to have their fun at your expense.”
The foreman sighed and raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Good thing these decade birthdays don’t come more often.” Then he turned his attention to Dominique. “And I suppose you’ll be taking pictures.”
She paused, her fork in midair, to give him a sweet smile. “Don’t I always?”
“Yes, and they’re fine pictures, mostly because I’m not in them. So take pictures of everybody else if you want, but the world doesn’t need a record of me opening up a box with a whoopee cushion inside or blowing out a bunch of candles. And I sure as heck don’t want to see my mug hanging with your other work in that gallery in Jackson.”
Emily laid a hand on his arm. “The world might not need a record of you holding a whoopee cushion and blowing out candles, but I do.” She glanced over at Dominique. “Please take a gazillion pictures of my dad during his party, okay?”
Dominique gave Emily a thumbs-up. “You’ve got it.”
Clay listened with interest. Emily didn’t sound like a spoiled brat who was only interested in the money she could squeeze out of her dad. Instead she sounded like a daughter who dearly loved her father and looked forward to celebrating his birthday.
She might be putting on an act for the benefit of those sitting at the table, though. As far as he knew, she was still accepting monthly checks from this man even though she was certainly old enough to earn her own living. Still, Emmett obviously basked in Emily’s affection. Clay hadn’t realized until now how much the guy adored his only child.
That kind of parental devotion used to set off a wave of longing in Clay, but these days he was more philosophical about being an orphan. After all, he’d been taken in by the Chance family. He might have started off life at a disadvantage, but he’d wound up pretty good.
And although Emmett wasn’t technically his father, the guy filled that role in everything that mattered. He’d latched on to Clay from the get-go and always had his back. Emmett seemed to recognize that Clay needed an advocate. But maybe Emmett had needed Clay, too, as a stand-in for his absent daughter.
So now Emmett was asking Clay to take Emily riding. That was a gesture of trust, no doubt about it. Sarah’s suggestion that Emily help him with party chores was a decent idea, too.
He could be gracious and take her with him out to the meadow. She could carry the benches and find rocks for the fire pit. It wasn’t so much to ask that he include her after all the support Emmett had given him over the years.
He turned to Emily. “I’d appreciate it if you’d help me with the chores I have, and then we should be able to take a short ride later this afternoon.”
Her answering smile dazzled him more than it should. “I would love that. Thank you, Clay.”