Rodeo Daddy. B.J. Daniels
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“Oh.” Sam’s face fell. “I like Abigail Harper’s macaroni and cheese.”
Chelsea was deflated. She’d been showing off and lost points with Sam. She looked as disappointed as Sam did. And as confused. Chelsea had mistakenly thought Sam would be impressed by the fact that she could cook. What Chelsea didn’t know was that Sam was afraid he would fall in love and marry, and she knew he’d never marry anyone who couldn’t cook. Chelsea might seem more of a threat than Terri Lyn at this point.
He couldn’t understand why Sam was going to so much trouble to get rid of Terri Lyn, anyway.
He caught her eyeing her casserole distastefully, no doubt regretting inviting Chelsea to eat with them.
“How’s your dinner, Sam?” he asked pointedly, taking no little satisfaction in the fact that his daughter had put herself in this predicament and now would have to suffer along with him.
She hurriedly took a bite and pretended it was delicious. No small task considering Sam couldn’t abide tuna casserole. And Terri Lyn’s was especially bad.
He watched Sam take another bite and smiled to himself. Even if she’d liked tuna casserole, she would have found fault with it just because Terri Lyn had made it. Good thing he wasn’t serious about the barrel racer. Not that he had the time or energy for a real relationship. He and Terri Lyn were strictly...consenting adults. Or at least they’d planned to be tonight.
Now he doubted that Terri Lyn would still be talking to him after he’d ruined her little “romantic” dinner by feeding it to another woman. The entire camp would be talking about Chelsea. Speculating. His luck had been running bad lately. Obviously, it wasn’t getting any better.
Chelsea was the kind of woman who couldn’t pass through your life without making ripples, even after a brief encounter. He knew after she left tonight, he’d still be feeling the effects in the weeks and months to come, and he was dreading it.
He didn’t like his daughter’s devious scheming, either. He would have a good long talk with her about it once Chelsea left. He just hadn’t thought of a punishment yet to fit the crime.
“It’s very good,” Chelsea said politely.
“Mmm,” Sam agreed. He watched her choke down another bite, almost feeling sorry for her. Almost.
He took a forkful of the casserole himself and looked up at Chelsea, something he instantly wished he hadn’t done. But there was little other place to look, and he had to admit, seeing her there was like waking up to a sunny spring day. He savored it, storing it for the long days ahead when she would be gone from his life again.
Yes, he thought, she’d matured in ways that were hard to define, but the total package was as close to perfection as he could imagine. Five foot seven, slender, graceful and oh so feminine with her long brown hair caught at the back of her sleek neck. A pampered beauty. She couldn’t have looked more out of place—drinking wine from a plastic tumbler, sitting in his beat-up old motor home, eating tuna casserole.
“So, do you work?” Sam asked Chelsea between bites.
“Chelsea lives on a ranch,” Jack told her. “She’s an accountant and keeps track of the cattle. It’s not polite to cross-examine dinner guests.”
“Sorry,” Sam said, and actually looked apologetic.
He reminded himself that this girl with the scrubbed face, sans cowboy hat, was an alien. Otherwise she’d be rolling her eyes, gagging and complaining.
“It’s all right, I don’t mind,” Chelsea said. He could feel her gaze on him. He didn’t dare look at her again. He realized he’d given himself away, knowing too much about her, almost as if he’d kept track of her all these years. Almost as if he cared.
* * *
JACK KNEW she was an accountant? That she took care of the financial end of the Wishing Tree Ranch?
She stared at him in surprise. He’d acted as if he’d never glanced back once he left the ranch. Look how quickly he’d met someone and had a child?
“How did you know that?” she asked.
He shrugged, avoiding her gaze. “Someone must have mentioned it.”
Yeah, sure. A bubble of pleasure rose before she could slap it back down. Jack had kept track of her! He hadn’t gotten over her any more than she’d gotten over him. A cattle rustler-liar-thief wouldn’t have done that.
Or, suggested that darned voice that sounded suspiciously like her brother’s, Jack had just been waiting for her father to die so he could prey on her again, thinking Cody didn’t know about the rustling.
Sam gulped down her dinner and hurriedly excused herself, saying vaguely that she had to see someone about something and wouldn’t be gone long. She disappeared before Jack could stop her, slipping out under the table, leaving the two of them alone in the already too small motor home.
Jack looked as if he wanted to run as well. He glanced out the window as if afraid of who might show up next.
She put down her fork. She hadn’t had any appetite in the first place and Terri Lyn’s casserole certainly hadn’t improved it. “Look, Jack, I know I shouldn’t have just shown up here like this, but after what Cody told me...”
He nodded, his jaw tensing, then pushed his plate away and got up to clear the table.
“Let me help,” she said as he slid out of the booth.
“No!” He gave her an apologetic smile at his curt tone and motioned for her to stay put. “This kitchen is too small for more than one person.”
He was right about that. She watched him clear the table, seeing his discomfort in the tensed muscles of his back through the thin white T-shirt. She tried not to notice the way his jeans fit. Or remember the feel of his long legs wrapped around her.
She fanned herself with her napkin, wishing there was more air in the room, wishing she hadn’t drunk the wine, wishing there was an easy way to say what she’d come to say. Jack’s admission that he hadn’t completely forgotten about her gave her courage. That and the wine and the fact that Terri Lyn couldn’t cook.
“I’m sure you’re wondering about Samantha,” he said, his back still to her as he began to wash the dishes.
What was there to wonder about? Jack had found someone else right after leaving the Wishing Tree.
He glanced over his shoulder, then back at his dishes. “What she told you just about covers it. I found Sam on my doorstep nine months after a one-night stand.”
“You’ve raised Sam alone?”
He nodded, still not looking at her. “It wasn’t any big deal.” He chuckled. “At first I was as lost as a young bull in the ring. But Sam and I have done all right by ourselves. She’s taught me a lot.”
There hadn’t been anyone special in his life besides Samantha? “Then you never married?”
He gave another nervous laugh. “I’ve been too busy to even date.”
“You seem to have found time to attract a casserole maker,” she said lightly.
He laughed. “Terri Lyn? We’re just friends.” He made a noise as if he hadn’t meant to say that and instantly regretted it.
She felt her heart inflate like a helium balloon, and without thinking, she opened it to him. “Jack, there’s no one serious in my life, either.”
He froze but didn’t turn around.
She rushed on before she lost her nerve. “I never knew what happened ten years ago. You just up and left. I thought you’d changed your mind about me. Then after my father’s heart attack, I found the check he tried to give you.”
Still Jack said nothing. Nor did he move, as if he were waiting