Ranch Hand For Auction: A Western Romance Novella (2 page)

The rich, tangy smell of concord grapes filled the evening air as Jake followed Meg into the backyard. She kept a few paces in front of him, casting glances toward his feet over one shoulder.

Seems she planned to get right to work, and that suited him just fine. They’d paid a whole lot of money for his assistance, and he’d make it worth their while. He felt bad for playing dumb where her family situation was concerned. The truth was, Jake had done his research and knew darn well Meg lived in Denver. That she was coming back for this very reason. A quiet part of him hoped the two would hit it off. That she might want to extend her stay.

A worktable stood next to a freshly painted shed, large picking baskets stacked on its surface. Meg pulled the top one from the stack and handed it over before securing one of her own. She tugged open a rickety drawer next, removed two pairs of pruners and passed one of those along too.

Jake managed to catch her eye as she did. “Thanks.” He grinned, enjoying the way her fair complexion showed the slightest blush. A blush that matched the light pink top she wore. His eyes drifted to the neck of that top, one side dangerously close to slipping off her shoulder.

Stop, Jake.
He shouldn’t be ogling this woman. Her father had paid for him to be there and it was Jake’s job to be professional. Besides, he’d changed his womanizing ways. If he were going to pursue another woman, he’d go about it in the proper order. No more jumping the gun. 

“This way,” she said, breaking into his thoughts. “I’ll show you how to pick.”

Weathered logs created a fence that bordered the massive backyard, each section covered with twisting vines and huge, green leaves. Meg set her basket at the south end of the property and hunched low to the ground.

Jake did the same, hunching down beside her.

“The grapes are mostly hidden beneath the leaves,” she explained. “You’ll want to get into each section here and lift them up with your arm. See how many there are?”

He leaned down, having to hunch lower than her due to his height. And there they were. Clusters of deep purple among the green, their aroma growing stronger even still.

Meg cradled the base of a bunch with one delicate-looking hand and slid the edge of her pruners along the stem. “Make sure you have each cluster supported before you cut the stem.” With a quick snip, the cluster dropped to her palm.

“And then you just place them in here. If you look further up to check under each leaf, you’ll find several bunches per vine. See those up there?” She pointed to a couple before lifting a new patch. “And all of those there?”

Jake nodded “Yeah, there are quite a few, aren’t there?”

Meg leaned back to eye the yard. “I’d say from post-to-post, you should come close to filling your basket. At least that’s how I remember it.”

Jake took a rough count of the posts lining the property. “That’s a whole lot of grapes. Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us.”

She giggled. A cute little sound. “You could say that.”

Boy did this woman stir at something low in his belly. One moment she was poised, proper, and rather aloof; the next she was blushing and eyeing him with a flirtatious grin.

“Well then,” he said, admiring that very grin. “Let’s get to work.”

He moved to the section next to hers and pushed back the leaves.

“Oh, and Jake?”

Man he liked the sound of his name in her voice. “Mmm, hmm?”

“Thanks for doing this. My dad and I really appreciate it.”

A sudden warmth seeped into his chest. He gave her a wink, unable to hold back the gesture. “My pleasure.”

~ + ~

Meg pulled in a deep breath as she picked the next cluster, recalling the words of her mother,
‘No better scent in all the world.’

The memory, along with the others that drifted through her mind, scratched at the ache in her heart, making it raw and new once more. Part of Meg wished she was alone so she could unleash a fresh round of tears. But a growing part of her was glad she had company. Meg had endured more breakdowns than she could count over the years. She needed to let the scab of time do its job. 

“You should have seen how jealous the guys were about the auction,” Jake said.

“Jealous?” The word came out in a squeak.

“Of course. I’m the only guy who got snatched up by a hot babe.”

Meg’s pruners weren’t quite in place, but at Jake’s words, they snapped shut, snipping into the cluster. A handful of grapes scattered to the ground. A rush of heat moved up her neck, began creeping toward her face. “Wow, that’s…” She let out a nervous laugh. “It was for my father, not me. And let’s not forget that group of women who were also trying to snatch you up, as you say.”

“I’m glad
they
didn’t get me. Couple of real man-eaters in there, I’ll tell you that.” He chuckled. “I’ve had women bid on me before, thinking they’d use me for their own personal wishes. Never did work out for them seeing that my conscience wouldn’t allow it. Though for you, I’d have been willing to make an exception.”

Meg was
so
glad he couldn’t see the reaction on her jaw-dropped face. She was also glad he wasn’t aware of the odd thrill that rushed through her body at his brazen words. The cool tingles buzzing over her skin. Michael never said suggestive things like that. Never.

She searched for something snarky to put him in his place, her mind rapidly at work as she snipped the next bunch of grapes. And then the next. Yet as she reached for yet another cluster, no witty words coming to mind, Jake spoke up again.

“The Barnharts pulled out the old yearbook after the fair,” he said. 

Meg cringed. “You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Couple of those Barnhart boys had a crush on you over the years.”

She shook her head while lowering a bundle onto the growing mound. “I doubt that.”

“It’s the truth,” he assured. “They were pretty miffed about the whole thing. Wondering why you never bid on any of them, seeing that you knew ‘em and all.”

She let out an incredulous laugh. “Because I’ve never bid on anyone. I haven’t needed to.”

“Yeah well, don’t worry. I explained it to them.”

Meg’s eyes widened as Jake’s sentence seemed to linger longer than it should. “By saying what?” she finally asked.

“Oh, you know,” he said, voice puffed with pride. “I told them you’d never seen someone quite so handsome step onto that stage before. You couldn’t resist.”

Her eyes grew impossibly larger. She pulled away from her task to look over at him. Jake backed out of the foliage, glanced over his shoulder, and shot her a wink. That was the second time he’d winked at her. Another thing Michael never did – flirt. She’d always been glad that Michael never came across as the womanizing type. The thing was, Jake didn’t either. But he was definitely charming. Dangerously so.

Even her body knew the truth of it. The way her chest would tighten and her heart would race, like it had back at the auction. Still, there was no need for him to know of his effect on her. “Whatever makes you feel good inside, cowboy.”

Cowboy?
Had she really just called him cowboy? She imagined the grin that spread over his face at her comeback, somehow knowing it’d make him smile.

With a solid hold on her overflowing basket, Meg made her way to the worktable. “Once you’re done, you can meet me over here and we’ll rinse them off.”

In the quiet moment, she let the sun sink into her skin, feed the starving parts of her soul. The parts that had blocked out the sun since her mother died. She hadn’t expected Jake to join her so soon, but in a few short moments, she heard the sweep of his footsteps through the grass. Felt his arm brush against her as he slid his basket next to hers.

“My mom used to let me skip a day of school for this,” she explained, forcing her eyes open. “We’d spend the whole day picking, processing, playing cards between batches.” She smiled. “For lunch we’d order take out. Usually Chinese.”

Jake’s eyes seemed to search her face before locking on hers. “That sounds nice. I bet this really makes you miss her.”

“It does.” But even as she said it, Meg realized that Jake had managed to distract her. It was just that, she hadn’t anticipated what the sunlight could do to a face like his. A short shadow of facial hair covered his solid, angular jaw, following the perfect outline of his mouth. And what a mouth it was. Her fingers nearly ached to sketch out the shape of his lips on a fresh canvas.  Her insides tumbled and tossed with a strange and unfamiliar desire. A desire that triggered a spark of fear within her.

Jake’s brow furrowed. “My father left nine years ago. He’s still alive as far as I know, but none of us have spoken with him.” He gulped, licked his lips. “So I know what it’s like to miss someone that way.”

“I’m sorry.” The ache in her heart twisted deeper as she considered the difference: while her mother was taken from them against her will, Jake’s father had walked out on his family completely. “That must’ve been hard.”
Nine years.
Meg took a moment to count back. “So you were what, in middle school?”

He nodded. “I used to fantasize about him coming back one day. I stayed on the honor roll all through school just… I don’t know, hoping he’d maybe see the listing in the paper. Come back, I guess.”

Her heart gave out a strange, drawn-out beat, as if it’d been snared by a hook, and Jake held the reel. “I’m sorry that he never did,” she said. 

He shrugged. “It worked out all right. I’m the oldest in the family, so I grew up pretty fast. But things eased up when my mom got remarried. Was in my junior year, when I started working for the Barnharts full-time.” 

“Huh,” she mumbled, surprised by the natural ease in conversation. The emotion he’d pulled from her with just a few words. “My dad said the other ranch hands all left for the season. But you stay on through fall and winter?”

He nodded, reaching for the hose beneath the table. “Yep. I help my granddad too. His ranch isn’t nearly as big as the Barnhart’s, but between the two, I stay pretty busy.” Jake twisted the squeaky faucet, running his fingers through the water as it splashed from the hose.

“So what do you do all day? Ride around on your horse? Herd cows from one field to the next?” She’d asked it with a laugh, but Meg was truly curious.

“You got it.” He moved the hose to his other hand and tipped his cowboy hat. “Naw, it really depends on the season. There’s calving that happens in the spring. Immunizations to follow. And all that’s required to get past the sell in the fall and the snow in the winter.” He lifted the sprayer over his basket. “No matter the season, we spend the day out in the fresh, open air. It’s what I love most about it.”

“Hmm,” was all she could say. Inwardly, she was picturing Jake on the land, putting in a hard day’s work.

“Am I doing this right? Just rinse them off like this?”

“Yeah.” Meg snapped out of her daze. “I’ll get the processor going. We might be able to finish a batch before dinner.” She didn’t wait for him to respond, simply sped toward the patio door, hoping the action looked more graceful than it felt.

Once safe from Jake’s presence, she attacked the questions in her head. How did this man manage to put her at ease, yet make her so unsettled all at once? And just what were all of these strange feelings about? This new onslaught of undeniable... she searched for the right word, unsure of how to identify it until it jumped out at her:
Attraction
.

No. That couldn’t be it. But her pounding heart said that it was the exact definition. The thumping picked up pace as she thundered down the basement stairs.

Recognizing the feeling – putting a name to it even – frightened her. She hadn’t felt anything for anyone besides Michael in years. In fact, if Meg had it her way, the two would have married by now.  She dragged the processor off the shelf, lugged the thing back upstairs, and filled the base with hot water from the tap. A splash of vinegar to the base, and it was ready for the stovetop.

She fired up the burner, headed back downstairs to shut out the lights, and tried to guess at why she felt such a thing for this guy she didn’t even know. A laugh spilled through her lips as she realized what it was: His looks.

She shook her head, chuckling once again. “Of
course
you’re attracted to him, Meg.
Jeez
.” What woman wouldn’t be? He was a prime example of the perfect male. In physicality, anyway. With Michael things went much deeper. She was attracted to his mind and his soul, not just his appearance.

A wash of relief swept through her, putting her mind at ease once again. She was simply experiencing the early stage of some teenage-type crush. Unfounded. Immature. And best of all – fleeting. She’d be disillusioned by dinner and her thoughts would return to the place they belonged: Michael and their future.

Yet there was one voice that stood out among the rest. A stubborn little voice that made Meg second-guess that notion. What if
this
was the answer she’d been searching for all along? What if there was a reason she’d been at
that
fair on
that
day to bid on
that
particular man? A man who’d already managed to snare a tiny piece of her heart.

It took a spark of bravery, but Meg found it in herself to accept an inward challenge. This week, she would do her best to use the freedom Michael had given her. She’d been set on ignoring other men, determined to prove that he was the one for her. But she couldn’t deny the increasing emptiness she’d felt since graduating. The feeling that she was attempting to set her roots in a place she didn’t belong.

So she’d use this week as a chance to test the homeland waters. Perhaps Michael had been right in giving her space; maybe – just maybe – she’d find that lost happiness by going back to her roots.

Meg squeezed a wedge of lemon over the salmon fillet on her plate, inhaling the fresh, citrus scent.

“Boy, if I had known grilled fish could taste this good,” her dad said, “I’d have grilled it a long time ago.”

Jake flashed a triumphant grin. “Billy wasn’t kidding when he said I knew my way around the kitchen. But I’m definitely best with a grill.”

Her dad lifted his glass, held it toward the center of the table. The dark purple juice took on a red hue beneath the dining room light. “This is the last of what your mother made,” he said, looking at Meg with a sad sort of smile. “I know she was screaming from the heavens, scolding us for letting those grapes go bad the last few years. Feels nice to be making up for lost time.”

Meg lifted her own glass. “You’re right. It does.”

“And we sure are glad to have your help, Jake,” he added, reaching further toward the center of the group.

Arms extended, glasses clanked, and Meg brought her drink to her lips.

“Dang, that’s good,” Jake said. “Is this the same type of juice we made today? It doesn’t have any sugar or anything?”

“It’s the exact thing,” her dad said. “One-hundred percent juice.”

Meg glanced at the small batch of jars lined up on the counter. What a satisfying thing it had been to count the gold lids beneath the light. Testing the tops of each sealed jar. She was starting to see why Mom enjoyed it so much. Why she never complained about the task that took more than half the month of October for her to complete.

“You two seem to make a fine team,” her dad said. “And I’m glad. It appears I’ll be missing in action most of the week.”

“What do you mean?” Meg asked.

“I’ve got a client who flew in from the East Coast. He wants some mountain property here, so I’ll be showing him a dozen or more cabins throughout the week. A few of the places are clear out in Hamilton. Means we’ll probably be gone from sun up to sun down in the next few days.”

Meg’s eyes shot to Jake. His moved to hers. An unspoken spark danced in the space between them. A teasing, taunting, wanting spark that sent an electric thrill right through her chest. The words
alone with Jake
flittered through her mind.

“So how much has Meg told you about herself, Jake?”

Jake glanced at her dad with a grin. “Not a whole lot. I was hoping you could fill me in on all of her deep, dark secrets.”

Her dad chuckled. “Oh, I’m not even sure
her Mason
could do that.”

“Michael,” Meg corrected, shocked that he’d brought him up.

“Oh yeah, I never can get that kid’s name straight. Anyway, Meggy here – just one year into working toward her degree – started an online shopping site for independent artists. In addition to helping hundreds of fellow artists sell their work, she’s sold thousands of her own paintings throughout the country.”

Jake’s gaze met hers once more, an unreadable look in his eyes. “That’s impressive. Is she the one who painted the picture in the front room?”

“Yep, that’s hers, all right.”

“It’s really old,” Meg blurted. “I was only fourteen, so it’s not very good.”

“It’s better than anything I could do,” Jake mumbled.

Her dad gave her the exact look he dealt every time she bagged on that painting. Disappointment mingled with hurt. He didn’t understand how hard it was to have someone showing off a piece that didn’t reflect her current ability. To her, it was like framing some rough draft of unfinished work and displaying it for all to see. If the subject of the art weren’t so dear to them both, Meg would have insisted he take it down long ago. As it was, she didn’t push.

“So what about you, Jake? Billy said you’d be running a ranch of your own soon, is that right?”

Jake set his glass down with a nod. “My granddad owns a ranch. He’d like me to take over next year so he can retire.”

Visions of the handsome cowboy running a ranch of his own flooded Meg’s mind once more. Sweet country life. A life any woman would be lucky to have. Meg dug her fork into her baked potato, confused by her shift in opinion. Since moving to Colorado, Meg had been certain she’d never move back. Perhaps her feelings for Michael were fading faster than she wanted to admit. After all, he’d been her greatest incentive to stay.

“So does that mean you’ll eventually inherit the land when the time comes?” her dad asked.

“That’s right,” Jake said. “My granddad promised my grandma they’d move someplace where he doesn’t have to do a scrap of yard work. The home, the ranch – all of it will be mine.”

Meg had been surrounded by ranching property most of her life. Some with small, weathered homes and rundown barns. Others with well-kept structures donning fresh paint and magazine appeal. All of it held beauty in Meg’s eyes. Only now, it held a new sort of appeal.

“My country art – paintings I’ve done of the Montana landscape,” she said, “they’re my best sellers.”

When the two looked at her, Meg elaborated. “Guess a lot of people out there are either living the country life and want something to reflect it, or they simply dream of it, hang paintings that show a simpler, perhaps more desired lifestyle.”

“You’re right,” her father said.

Against her will, Meg’s eyes shifted to Jake. His gaze was set on her, his brow puckered the slightest bit. There weren’t many times Meg had wished she could read another’s mind. Mostly she was glad she couldn’t. But in that moment, with that particular cowboy looking at her the way he was, she’d give anything to know what he was thinking.

The conversation continued throughout the remainder of dinner, but Meg didn’t take part in much of it. She was too caught up in her thoughts. Trying to figure out just what was influencing her most in those moments: a desire to be near her family once more? To live in the quiet town she had such a love for? Or was she simply under the spell of the far-too-charming cowboy at her table?

You’re just tired,
Meg assured herself. Michael had said he’d be busy with homework, that she didn’t need to check in with him each night, but Meg was certain she should. She needed to get her head straight. To remind herself why she’d wanted a life that was starting to seem so undesirable to her.

Yep, that’s all she needed. A good talk with Michael would put things back in their place.