Christmas on My Mind (9 page)

She'd known all along this was going to be a big job, but the true enormity of it all was just dawning on her. One reality stood out like a blazing banner: She couldn't do this alone—not if she wanted to have the place ready by the Christmas ball.

“Hi, sweetie!” Francine, who must've heard her coming, was standing at the bars, a smile on her face. “My goodness, aren't you a sight!”

Her eyes took in Jess's oversized sweatshirt, scrounged from Clara's donation box, her scraggly ponytail and dust-smeared face. “What on earth have you been doing, honey, Dumpster diving?”

“I've been cleaning house,” Jess said. “The bathroom's usable, and now I'm working on the downstairs bedrooms. The place should at least be fit for roughing it by the time you get out of here.”

“About that,” Francine said. Jess's heart dropped. She'd just begun to realize how much she was going to need her mother's help.

Francine leaned closer to the bars. “I've been thinking over your proposition, and I'm willing to come—but it's got to be on my own terms. There are three things I want.”

“Tell me.” Jess was ready to grant her anything within reason—short of a trip to Las Vegas.

“First, I want to bring my cat, Sergeant Pepper.”

“No problem at all. I like cats, and we could use him to get rid of the mice. In fact, I was going to ask if I could bring him over early.”

“That would be fine, dear. But you'd better wait till that cute Sheriff Ben is around to help you. The Sergeant won't take kindly to being hauled off by somebody he doesn't know, and he's got claws like a damned Bengal tiger.”

“So what's your second condition?” Jess asked, hoping it would be as easy.

“I want to bring my boom box and play my music anytime I want to—and I want my TV in my room.”

“Again, no problem.” Whatever music Francine liked, Jess could put up with it. And the TV should be fine. “And the third condition?” she asked.

“This'll cost you a few dollars, but I figure if you can buy a house, you can spare it. When I get out of here, I want to go to the beauty parlor and get the full treatment—the works! I want my daughter to see her old lady all fixed up!”

The request was a bit startling but not unreasonable. “Fine,” she said. “I can even make you an appointment if you'll tell me who to call.”

“Sure.” Francine was all smiles now. “I'll give you the number, honey. We're going to make a great team, me and you.”

As Jess left the jail and started her car, vague misgivings crept over her. Was she being played? Could she really trust Francine to keep her part of the bargain? But what choice did she have? If she wanted to help her mother, the only way was to take this chance.

On the way back to the house, she stopped at Shop Mart and bought a few necessities—hand soap, toilet paper, a couple of towels and a few snacks to tide her over until lunch. She got back to the house to find a van from the gas company pulling up to the curb. Hooray! With luck, she'd be able to work in warmth, and even ease her sore muscles with a hot bath at the end of the day.

It took the gas technician a little less than an hour to inspect the line and the connections, turn on the gas and light the furnace and water heater. Since the stove and clothes dryer were electric, it remained to be seen whether they would work.

After showing her how to adjust the thermostat and briefing her on what could go wrong and what to do, he gave her his card and drove away, leaving Jess to enjoy the warmth that was filling the house—
her
house, which would soon become a cozy home, ready to welcome paying guests.

At least that was what she had to keep believing.

The floor in what, for now, would be her bedroom was covered with a threadbare rag rug. Since the rug was lighter than a carpet and not fastened down, Jess was able to roll it lengthwise and drag it into the living room. That done, she swept away the dust underneath, filled a bucket with sudsy water and began scrubbing the hardwood floor on her knees. Later she would have to refinish the wood, or at least oil it. And the walls would need to be stripped of their dingy paper and painted as well. But for now her only goal was to get the room clean.

After wiping down the walls and sweeping cobwebs off the ceiling with a rag wrapped around the broom, she went outside, collected her suitcase, coat and blankets from the trunk of the car and piled everything in a corner. Then she started on the kitchen.

The hours flew by. By the time she'd finished the fridge, the countertops and the outside of the stove, the inside of the house had grown so dark that she had to turn on the lights. Pausing to wolf down a stick of string cheese and guzzle a can of guava nectar, she leaned against the counter to survey her work. She'd done so much scrubbing that her fingers were raw inside her rubber gloves. But she still had the drawers and cabinets to finish, as well as the dreaded inside of the stove, which would have to wait until tomorrow after she bought some oven cleaner.

She thought about taking a break, maybe running to Buckaroo's for a burger and a shake. The idea of real food was enough to make her stomach growl. But right now she looked like an extra in a zombie apocalypse movie. Besides, if she stopped to rest, she'd be too tired to start working again.

After filling a fresh bucket of soapy water and unwrapping a clean sponge, she started on the drawers below the counter.

Minutes, then what seemed like hours, crawled past. Jess wondered what time it was. She hadn't brought a watch, but she guessed it must be past ten. She'd carried in the blankets from the trunk of her car, planning to make them into a bed on the floor. Would she be all right spending the night here alone?

But why worry? This was Branding Iron, Texas, not her old neighborhood in Kansas City. Nobody was going to—

The click and squeak of the opening front door scattered her thoughts. Jess's heart slammed. Why hadn't she thought to lock the door behind her when she came in? And where was her purse, with her cell phone in it? She couldn't even remember where she'd put it down.

Frantic, she glanced around for a weapon. There was nothing within reach but the broom. It wouldn't fight off any intruder bigger than a twelve-year-old, but it would have to do.

She was getting a grip on the broom handle, holding it like a baseball bat, when she heard the door closing, followed by a footstep and a deep, familiar voice.

“Jess?”

She almost fainted with relief. Stepping into the kitchen doorway, she saw Ben in the living room with a pizza box in his hands. “Hey, put down that broom,” he said, laughing. “I come in peace, bringing food.”

The aroma of cheese and pepperoni made Jess's knees weak. And the sight of a tired-looking Ben gave wings to her drooping spirit. She pulled off her rubber gloves, and they sat side by side on the rolled-up rug from the bedroom with the open pizza box between them and a couple of cold, canned sodas that had emerged from the pockets of his leather jacket.

“Thank you,” she breathed between ravenous bites. “I was famished.”

“I figured you might be.” He grinned as she devoured her second slice. “Feeding you is like feeding a starving bobcat.”

“When did you get back?”

“We got in about nine-thirty. Ethan had gone to sleep in the truck. I hauled him upstairs, tucked him in bed and looked for you. That was when Mom told me you'd bought the house, taken all your things and moved in.” He glanced around, looking past her, into the kitchen. “I can tell you've already made some headway. But this is a huge job for one little lady.”

“I'm just finding that out,” she said. “Francine's coming on board when she gets out of jail. I figure she can help me paint and decorate. But meanwhile, I'm going to need help hauling out the carpets and moving the furniture I found in the garage. I was hoping you'd know a couple of strong boys I could hire for a few hours at a time, preferably with a truck, to haul things away—oh, and I'll need your help catching Sergeant Pepper and bringing him over here. Francine said I mustn't try it alone.”

“Sure, I can handle him—with a carrier box from Animal Control and a heavy-duty pair of gloves. Sergeant Pepper won't go gently to his new home. You'll want to keep him inside till he gets used to the place, or he's liable to run back to the trailer park.”

“Is he . . . uh, housebroken?”

Ben shrugged. “Francine kept him in the trailer when the weather was bad, so I'm guessing there's a litter box somewhere. If I find it, I'll bring it, along with his kibble and bowl.”

“Thanks. I've never had a cat, or any other kind of pet. I've got a lot to learn about animals.”

“You'll be fine. The Sergeant will teach you everything you need to know.” Ben glanced down at the half-empty pizza box and closed the lid. “Francine's got a camper-sized microwave in her trailer. I'm sure she wouldn't mind my bringing it over here for you. Then you can warm up the rest of this pizza tomorrow.”

“That would be great, especially since I still need to clean the oven. But please ask her first. I've already learned that I can't second-guess what Francine will think or say.” Jess rose, picked up the closed pizza box and carried it to the fridge. Returning from the kitchen, she found Ben standing by the door. He waited while she crossed the room to face him.

“Thank you for coming by, and for the pizza,” she said. “You've been a lifesaver, and not just tonight.”

His eyes were laced with weariness. “Come back home with me, Jess. You're worn to a frazzle, and you need a decent night's rest. You can't stay here tonight.”

Jess shook her head. “Don't worry about me. The heat's on now, and I've got blankets. Believe me, I've crashed in worse places than this.”

“Stop being so stubborn. After a miserable night on the hard floor, you'll be too sore to move.”

“I'll be fine. Your mother's been wonderfully kind to me, but I've imposed on her hospitality long enough. It's time I was on my own, even if it means roughing it for a few days.”

“You weren't imposing. My mother was glad for the company.” His darkening gaze took her in. “Is that the only reason you're running away, Jess? Or is it me you're running from?”

Her pulse warmed and quickened as his fierce, gentle eyes held hers. Now was the time to back away with a clumsy excuse and end the moment, Jess told herself. But her feet were rooted to the floor. “You don't even know me,” she whispered. “You don't know anything about me.”

“And right now I don't give a damn.”

His kiss swept her up like a storm, powerful and possessing, and yet so tender that she could have wept. What little was left of her resistance melted in his arms. Clasping his neck, she pressed upward against him, her toes leaving the floor as their mouths and bodies clung . . . and clung.

When they finally broke apart they were both breathing hard. She looked up at him, her lips damp and swollen from the kiss that had left her aching for more. “I think you'd better leave,” she said.

“So do I, or we'll both be in trouble.” He held her at arms' length, his big hands cupping her face. “Good night, Jess. Lock the door,” he said, and then he was gone.

Jess slid the bolt home and sagged against the locked door, her knees barely holding her....
Or we'll both be in trouble
, Ben had said. But for her, the warning had come too late. She was already in more trouble than she could handle. In the face of all caution and common sense, she'd fallen for the man who was the law in Branding Iron, Texas.

Chapter Nine

J
ess had told herself she was tired enough to sleep anywhere. But Ben had been right about the hard floor. At the crack of dawn, with the long, miserable night behind her, she stumbled to her feet, aching in every joint and muscle. After pulling away the rag she'd stuffed under the bedroom door to keep out the mice, she tottered into the bathroom and turned on the shower. The hot water was pure bliss. She stood in the spray, letting it ease her soreness as she shampooed her dust-coated hair.

She should have swallowed her pride and gone home with Ben last night. At least she could have slept in a soft bed, awakening to coffee and breakfast. And last night's blistering kiss would probably never have happened.

She had wanted that kiss—ached for it. And when his cool, firm lips captured hers, she wouldn't have cared if it had never ended. But what an all-fired mess she'd made of the situation. She could hardly avoid Ben when she needed his help. But until she could reset the boundary between them, things were going to be awkward, to say the least.

She'd moved out of Clara's house, in part, to avoid the complication of sharing a roof with Ben. Now here she was, in complications up to her ears. Whatever it took, she needed to get the situation—and her churning hormones—under control.

By the time she'd dried off, put on clean clothes and blasted her hair with the blow dryer, she felt almost like a new woman. As she drove to the convenience store for a jolt of caffeine, she made a mental list of things she absolutely needed before tonight. At the top of the list was a foam pad or air mattress to sleep on, and a pillow. Then there was oven cleaner, instant coffee, a saucepan and skillet for the stove, a few dishes and utensils, milk, sugar, sandwich ingredients, dish and laundry soap . . . The list was getting longer and longer, and everything she bought would make one more dent in her precious funds. She had to get her place making a profit, or she wouldn't last more than a couple of months.

After buying coffee and a doughnut at the convenience store, she headed back to the house. It was too early to shop, and she wouldn't be visiting Francine till later in the day. But she could finish scrubbing the kitchen for starters, then maybe pry more boards off the windows to let in the light. Jess added window cleaner and paper towels to her mental list.

After pulling up to the curb in front of the house, Jess switched off the engine and took a moment to sip her coffee. The sunrise was a pearlescent glow in the eastern sky, the weather chilly but clear. If she wanted off-street parking for guests, she would need to clear the weeds off the driveway before the snowstorms moved in. For that, she was going to need a Weedwacker. Maybe Hank's Hardware would rent her one. While she was there, she could pick up some paint samples to show Francine.

Overwhelmed for the moment, she slumped forward, her forehead resting on the steering wheel. Heaven help her, with everything screaming to be done at once, she scarcely knew where to begin. But begin she would. And by the time she was finished, her bed-and-breakfast would be the warmest, most welcoming place in Branding Iron!

Inside the house, she sat on her suitcase, found a pen in her purse and made a rough to-do list on the back of yesterday's grocery receipt. Next to the items that had to be done right away, she drew a star. There were far too many stars. But at least the list was a step forward on her way to getting organized.

After deciding to work through the morning and break for shopping later, she took up where she'd left off last night, washing out the kitchen cabinets and drawers. It was slow work, involving countless nooks and corners, but at last she finished that job and started on the kitchen floor. The worn, aging linoleum would need replacing, and the cabinets could use a fresh coat of paint, but those projects would have to wait. The areas her guests would see—the living and dining areas, the bathroom and the bedrooms—would need to be prettied up first.

She'd just finished the floor when she heard a rap on the front door. She opened it to find Ben standing there, with a dark-haired young boy at his side.

“You must be Ethan,” she said, relieved that Ben hadn't shown up alone. After last night, that could have been awkward for them both. As it was, she could barely look at the man without drowning in the memory of that kiss.

When Ben introduced them, Ethan, who looked like a miniature version of his father, grinned and shook her hand. “We brought you some presents,” he said.

“Here you are, as ordered.” Ben picked up the heavy-duty plastic pet carrier he'd set on the porch behind him. The yowls coming from inside made Jess hesitate to take it from his hand.

“The Sergeant wasn't too happy in the truck.” Ben set the carrier down on the floor. “And he doesn't like this cage much either. You'll want to turn him loose in the basement till he calms down and decides to make friends.”

“Here's his food and his water bowl.” Ethan handed her a weighted paper bag. “His litter box is in the truck. I'll get it. But you'll need to buy more litter and a scoop.”

A scoop.
Yes, that little chore would be part of keeping the cat in the house. Never mind, she'd get used to it.

“I'll get the litter box,” Ben said. “Ethan, you bring the jar and that piece of cardboard. Okay?”

As the two hurried out to the truck, Ethan double-stepping to match his father's long strides, Jess couldn't help but wonder what they were up to. Why would they need ajar?

Dropping to a crouch, she peered through the sturdy wire door of the pet carrier. Two angry yellow eyes glared back at her. “Hi, Sergeant,” she said. “Remember me? I petted you back at the trailer. We're going to be friends, aren't we?” She stuck a tentative finger between the wires.

“
Yikes!”
She jerked backward as the cat hissed and lunged at her. Shaken, she examined her fingertip—no blood, but Sergeant Pepper had let her know he wasn't in a petting mood. Ben had said the cat would teach her. She'd just had lesson one.

When they came back from outside, Ben had the plastic litter pan, half filled with something that looked like coarse sand. Ethan was holding an empty glass peanut butter jar and a piece of cardboard.

Jess waited with the meowing cat while they went downstairs. Sooner or later, she'd have to brave the basement to try out the washer and dryer. But she wasn't anxious to run into Oscar again.

A few minutes later they were back. Ethan clutched the glass jar, which now had the lid on. “Look!” He held it up for Jess to see the huge spider trapped inside. “Isn't he cool?”

In spite of feeling weak-kneed, Jess managed to smile. “What are you going to do with him? Keep him for a pet? He looks big enough to walk on a leash.”

“He wouldn't like being a pet,” Ethan said. “I'm going to look on the Internet to see what kind he is. Then I'll take him out and turn him loose in Grandma's old wood shed. He can catch bugs out there and find a safe place to sleep.”

“You must really like spiders.”

“Yup. The only thing I like better is snakes.” Ethan took a moment to study his prize. “I want to be a biologist when I grow up. I'm already learning lots of stuff.”

Glancing up at Ben, Jess caught the glow of fatherly pride in his eyes. “I'm impressed,” she said, meaning it.

From inside the pet carrier, a discontented yowl gave notice that Sergeant Pepper wanted out. “You can get his bed out of the truck, Ethan,” Ben said. “Once the Sergeant is settled downstairs with his food and water, we can start bringing in the other things.”

“Other things?” Jess gave Ben a puzzled glance. His gaze warmed as he looked down at her. “You'll see.”

“That's quite a boy you've got,” she said, filling the silence that teetered on the edge of becoming awkward once Ethan had left.

“He's something, isn't he?” Ben said. “I don't remember being that smart at his age. All I cared about was sports—and later on, girls.” He shook his head. “Look at me now. I don't have anything to show for either one except an ex-wife and a banged-up knee.”

“You have Ethan.”

“That I do. And he's worth more to me than the Heisman Trophy, a half-dozen MVP awards and all the money I might've made in the NFL. I guess that makes me a rich man.”

Ethan came back in, lugging the box Jess had seen under the trailer. Ben took the carrier, with the Sergeant vocalizing his displeasure. After a moment's hesitation, Jess followed them to the basement with the cat's food dish and the water bowl, which she'd filled.

With everything set up next to the stairs, Ben opened the door of the carrier. The cat streaked out and disappeared into the darkest corner of the room, behind the furnace. “He'll be fine,” Ben said. “You'll want to leave him down here for a couple of days. Then you can crack the door open to the kitchen and give him a chance to explore.”

“Don't forget to scoop out his litter box,” Ethan reminded her.

“I'm pretty sure my nose will remind me,” Jess said, forcing a laugh.

Jess followed Ben and Ethan out to the truck, then helped them bring in more treasures. Francine had allowed them to take her tiny microwave, her portable boom box and her TV, which was going to need some kind of service connection to get it working. And Ben had broken into his camping gear for a folding cot and self-inflating pad, a couple of lightweight camp pans and a box of plastic dishes and utensils. There was also a battered but solid wooden chair, sturdy enough to climb on.

“I figure these will do you till you find something better,” he said. “Meanwhile, at least you won't be sleeping on the floor. How was last night, by the way?”

She pulled a face at him. “How do you think it was?”

His dimple deepened as he gave her the belly-deep laugh she'd come to love. “Ethan and I are going to Buckaroo's for lunch. We'd be pleased if you'd join us.”

Jess hesitated—she didn't need to get any closer to this man and his appealing son. But how could she refuse? “I'd love to,” she said. “While I'm thinking about it, do you know a couple of local boys I could pay to roll up the living room carpet and haul it away?”

“I might,” he said. “But if you don't mind a suggestion, you'll want to paint the walls before you take the old carpet out. That way you won't need to protect the floor from paint spills.”

“Oh—duh!” Jess gave the side of her head a mocking poke. “Good idea. I should've thought of that myself. Sometimes I feel like such an idiot.”

“You're learning, and you're doing great,” he said. “Most women I know wouldn't be brave enough to take on a project like this one.”

“Maybe most women you know are smarter than I am.”

He chuckled. His hand reached out, then stopped, as if he'd meant to give her a playful slap on the butt, then thought better of it. “Come on,” he said, shooing Ethan out the door ahead of them. “Let's go get some lunch.”

* * *

Buckaroo's was decorated for Christmas in the usual way, with a grubby-looking string of lights and tinsel hanging above the counter. The country songs that blared from the speakers the rest of the year had been replaced by twangy cowboy versions of Christmas music. What the place lacked in class, it made up for in down-home holiday comfort.

Ben found a corner booth and ordered cheeseburgers, fries, and shakes for himself, his son, and Jess. “I'm expecting you to eat us both under the table.” He teased the woman who was fast capturing his heart. Even after a bad night, and dressed in her baggy work clothes, Jess managed to look fresh and pretty. And that kiss last night had almost melted his toenails.

“Maybe I could eat
you
under the table.” She gave Ben a mischievous glance, then nodded toward Ethan. “But I wouldn't bet against this growing boy here.”

Ethan grinned back at her. The two of them had clearly hit it off.

“What do you want to find under that big Christmas tree at your grandma's house?” she asked Ethan.

“I'm still deciding,” Ethan said. “What I'd really like would be for my mom to let me stay here and go to school.”

“That's the present I'd like too,” Ben said. “But you can't put that under the Christmas tree. So you'd better think of something you can open, Ethan.”

“Like a boa constrictor?” Ethan's brown eyes danced with mischief.

“Nope. Your grandma wouldn't like that. Neither would your mother.”

Ethan sighed. “Mom won't even let me have a dog, or a cat.”

“So no pets for now,” Ben said. “Nothing you can't take home.” It was a shame, he thought, that a boy who loved animals as much as Ethan did wasn't allowed to have one. He'd change that if Ethan was allowed to stay with him. No snakes, but Clara could be talked into a dog. And even a horse wouldn't be out of the question if he could pay his friend Shane to board it at his ranch. But any future plans for Ethan were on hold until Cheryl returned from her holiday in Boston.

Cheryl had a vindictive streak. He wouldn't put it past her to take Ethan back east just because she could, forcing Ben to fight her in court for joint custody. But he had to believe she'd ultimately do what would make their son happiest. Meanwhile, he didn't want to get Ethan's hopes up, only to see them crushed.

The teen waitress brought their order to the table. The food was hot, fresh and good, and they were all hungry. Ben took pleasure in watching Jess eat. He remembered thinking earlier that there was something sexy about a woman with a healthy appetite. It suggested an appetite for other things as well, such as . . .