Loe raamatut: «Her Rancher Rescuer»

Chapter One

“Amy Wilson is the last woman on earth I want to be with.”

Amy winced as those words came out of groomsman Rhys Bullock’s mouth. He couldn’t possibly know she was standing only ten feet behind him, but couldn’t he have kept his voice down so the whole guest list at the wedding reception couldn’t hear?

The day had been going so well. Callum Shepard’s wedding to Avery Spencer had been a gorgeous, Christmassy affair. The food at the golf club was delicious and Amy had been having fun at the dance. Until she’d seen the tension between Rhys and Callum’s sister, Taylor. It had been crystal clear to her that they were fighting their attraction. The two of them had been doing a strange mating dance throughout the whole planning of this wedding.

Only minutes ago Amy had caught the bouquet and Rhys the garter. They’d danced and, to her surprise, he’d held her close. But Amy had known exactly what he was thinking—or rather who he was thinking about, and it wasn’t her. It was as clear as the nose on her face that he belonged with Taylor and Amy had had no illusions as to why Rhys had been so cozy. It had been to make Taylor see what she was missing. Amy had willingly played along, happy to help.

What a fool she’d been to try to steer them in the right direction. She’d known that Rhys didn’t like her in that way. And neither did she—their one awkward date had proved that months ago. Still, the callousness of the harsh words hurt.

Tears of humiliation sprang to her eyes. But before she could sneak away and pretend she hadn’t heard a thing, Rhys and Taylor realized she was standing there. Taylor had the grace to look embarrassed. Of all the Shepard family that Amy had met, Taylor had been the most welcoming. She’d even invited Amy for lunch one day. Now Taylor’s pretty face was looking at her with apology etched all over it. Rhys’s face was inscrutable, revealing nothing.

“Amy...” Taylor started to apologize but Amy lifted her hand, cutting her off, unable to meet the other woman’s sympathetic gaze. This was all embarrassing enough, but she couldn’t stand pity. Poor Amy. Struck out again. Can’t hold a man, just like her mother, poor thing.

Amy’s lower lip trembled. She had to get out of here before she really embarrassed herself.

She spun on her heel and made a beeline for the bathroom. One of the stalls was unoccupied and she headed straight for it, going inside and latching the door. She put down the toilet-seat lid, sat down and bit down on her lip. Sometimes she really hated living in this town. Her breakup with Terry years ago had been bad enough. He’d broken her heart and nothing stayed a secret for long in Cadence Creek. Her past relationship with Sam Diamond had been the clincher, though. She’d really liked Sam. She’d been hurt when he’d broken it off and had been a tad too vocal about it.

She knew what people thought of her. A harmless flirt to be gossiped about and laughed at. Looking for love in all the wrong places. Serial dater. She could find a man but not keep a man. She’d heard them all. Besides, no one had forgotten how her dad had just up and left them years before. It had broken her mother. The legacy of his abandonment had followed Amy through to adulthood.

“Who was that?” a woman’s voice asked.

A low laugh. “Amy Wilson.”

There were a few chuckles. Nothing else had to be said.

She was not a bad person. She didn’t sleep around or go after unavailable men. She just...

She just had rotten luck in the romance department. And yet she kept trying and believing that one day the right guy would ride into town and sweep her off her feet. So much so that she knew no one would believe her motives for dancing with Rhys were altruistic, even if she swore it on a Bible. Well, it was the last time she tried to play matchmaker. She might have known it would be misconstrued.

She was done. And the population of Cadence Creek—males and females—could dry up and blow away for all she cared.

The door opened and closed again and she held her breath even though she desperately needed a tissue. After a few seconds two tissues appeared over the top of the door. “Here,” a man’s voice said quietly. “Blow your nose.”

“Oh, my God!” Her voice bounced off the porcelain fixtures as she leaped to her feet. “This is the women’s room! Get out!”

“I locked the door behind me. Blow your nose, Amy.”

She paused. She knew that voice. Not well, which was why it stood out. It was the groom’s brother, wasn’t it? Callum’s very handsome, very successful younger sibling. “Jack Shepard?”

“Yes, it’s me.”

“How did you know I was in here?”

He hesitated before answering. “I heard what Rhys said. Saw you take off.”

She snagged the tissues from his fingertips and blew her nose—loudly. For another few moments the only sound was the reassuring thump of the DJ’s music at the dance, muffled through the walls. “Thanks,” she murmured. She and Jack had only bumped into each other a few times. He’d asked her to dance tonight, too. He was a nice guy. But to follow her into the ladies’ room? She frowned.

“Are you going to come out of there?” he asked.

“Maybe. When everyone else goes home and I can be humiliated in private.” Right now she preferred to lick her wounds in solitude. Gosh, even when she didn’t intend to, she found herself in the middle of a spectacle. Memories were too darned long around here. Repetitive.

“It’s not even ten o’clock. You could have a long wait.”

She hated that he was right. And that he sounded amused. “Then I’ll get my coat and slip away. It’s not like anyone will miss me.”

“Oh, now,” he chided, “that sounds a lot like you’re going to have your own pity party, and that’s no fun.”

Right again. He really was being quite annoying. Except he’d come in here to make sure she was okay, and he’d given her tissues. She felt herself softening just a little. “Shut up, Jack,” she said mildly.

“Who gives a rat’s ass what Rhys thinks anyway,” Jack suggested. “You’re better off without him.”

Jack thought this was about Rhys? Of course. Jack was an outsider. Even today, as part of the family, he said and did all the right things but she’d noticed that he’d kept to the side a little bit, included but hovering just on the fringes, not getting too close.

And since he was new here, he definitely didn’t understand that the name Amy Wilson came with built-in context. “You might want to be careful expressing that opinion,” she replied. “Because Rhys has definitely got his eye on your sister.”

“I didn’t say I didn’t like him. I’m just saying that you deserve someone who wants to be with you. Only you. Who can’t go on another day without you. Now, are you going to come out of there or not?”

Amy’s heart gave an odd thump. What Jack was cavalierly explaining was something she’d felt deep down for a long, long time. She’d always believed it—true love—was out there. She’d kept faith that not all guys were losers and deadbeats like her dad. That faith was what kept her from swearing off men. What kept her hoping each time she went on a date. Somewhere out there was someone who would care about her enough to stay.

Problem was, she was starting to think that true love existed all right—but just not for her. That she was somehow inherently flawed. There had to be some reason why things never worked out...why all the princes turned out to be frogs. Every relationship attempt had been a disaster. And through it all she’d smiled and tried to pretend it was no big deal. Tried to hide her hurt feelings by moving on....

God, that sounded so desperate.

“I’ll come out,” she conceded. She stood up and smoothed her dress, a little black number that skimmed her curves and made her feel pretty. Or at least it had. She gave her hair a shake, pasted on a smile. Then and only then did she click back the latch and open the door.

Jack was waiting, looking ridiculously handsome in his tuxedo and boots, the footwear a concession made to a wedding party filled with cowboys. Not a hair on his head was out of place. Jack’s features were nearly perfect, except for a small scar just in front of his right ear. He was, she realized, quite dreamy. Except she was giving up all the dreamy nonsense. Especially since Jack was a “here today, gone tomorrow” guy. As soon as the wedding was over it was back to the United States for him, back to running his empire.

“Put some cold water on your face. Touch up your makeup.”

She curled her lip at him, taken aback by the blunt orders. “My, aren’t we the bossy one.”

He shrugged as if he didn’t care at all what she thought. “You want to go back out there looking like that?” He pointed at the mirror.

She took a look at herself and frowned. Her eyes were rimmed red, and a bit of mascara had run, leaving black smudges around her lids. Plus she’d either licked or bitten off any remnants of her lipstick.

“Okay, good point.” She pulled a piece of paper towel out of the dispenser and turned on the cold water. Jack waited while she dabbed at her eyes, then made short work with a bit of concealer, a touch of mascara and a fresh swipe of gloss across her lips. Not quite flawless, but better.

She turned away from the mirror and faced him. “How’s that?”

“Much better.”

“Okay. Now I’ll go get my coat.”

“Really? You’re seriously going to run away?”

She raised an eyebrow. What else did he expect her to do? Right now all she wanted was a pint of chocolate fudge ice cream and her fuzzy pajamas. “Yeah, I am. Because I’m sick and tired of being the butt of everyone’s...whatever in this town.”

“Isn’t that a bit overstated?” He gave her a lopsided grin, looking absurdly boyish as he did so.

“Not a bit. I know what people say about me. I can do without a repeat tonight. What Rhys said was quite enough, thanks.”

Jack rested his hip on the edge of the counter. “Okay, so help me out here. I don’t get it. You’re nice, and funny, and pretty easy on the eyes,” he said. “Why the gossip?”

She looked away from his intense gaze, touched once more by his compliments. He’d just said she was pretty. Or at least...attractive. “I just don’t have a good dating track record. And this damned town is too small. Everyone knows everyone else’s business. You screw up once and they remember it forever.” And sure, she’d screwed up more than once, but had she ever done anything so very bad? No. Still, she was Mary Wilson’s daughter. Like mother like daughter, the gossipmongers said.

He nodded. “So every date, every failed relationship, every everything is cataloged and talked about?”

She felt her cheeks heat. “In the past I haven’t always been...ahem...as discreet as I should have been with my love-life woes.”

“You’re very self-aware.”

Somehow she got the feeling he was teasing her. “I can admit when I make a mistake. For example, I dated Sam Diamond for a while. You’ve met Sam.” Sam was also in the wedding party, along with his brother Tyson. Everyone in Cadence Creek knew Sam Diamond. He headed up Diamondback Ranch now. He was confident and successful and now married to Angela Beck. Even when they’d been dating, Amy had felt he was out of her league.

“Slight age difference?”

She blushed again. “We were both adults. Anyway, when he broke it off I wasn’t exactly complimentary about his, er, behavior. I’ve grown up a bit since then. Doesn’t matter, though. I’m painted with a certain brush and that’s how I’ll always be seen. It’s pathetic, really.”

“And so you rush off to public bathrooms when your feelings get hurt.”

She zipped up her little purse and avoided his eyes. “Ouch, Jack. And I thought you were here to help.”

“I am. All I’m saying is that you running in here caused a different sort of scene that put the focus on you and not Rhys.”

It bugged her that he was constantly right.

“So what’s your brilliant solution?”

He smiled and leaned closer, as if sharing a secret. “The moment I leave this bathroom people are going to think...” He let the thought hang, but it didn’t take her long to understand his meaning. They would think that the two of them were locked in there together, doing God knows what.

Her cheeks heated. They would think that she and Jack...that they were... As if her reputation weren’t tarnished enough! She pulled back, putting several more inches between them. “Oh, God. They are, aren’t they?”

“There’s not exactly a back exit or a window to crawl through.”

To illustrate his point, the door rattled, and a muffled voice outside said, “It’s locked.”

“Why did you have to come in here?” She paced in front of the mirror. “I could have just licked my wounds and snuck away.” That was her usual M.O., after all.

“Because I was worried about you.”

His answer stopped her short. When had anyone really cared about her feelings? “Really?”

“Yes, really.”

“Why should you care? You hardly know me.”

He nodded. “That’s true. But the few times we’ve been thrown together over the past few weeks, I’ve enjoyed your company. You’re a good dancer.”

“A good dancer?” Things were starting to feel a tad bit surreal.

“Yes, and you make me laugh. And I hate it when people aren’t treated fairly.”

“So you rode to my rescue.”

A strange look passed over his face ever so briefly, then was wiped away quickly by another charming smile. “I wouldn’t put it that way. I just wanted to make sure you were okay, that’s all.” He shrugged again. “I guess I didn’t think far enough ahead to actually getting you out of this predicament.”

It sounded so much like something she’d do that she couldn’t help it. She gave a little laugh, putting her fingers to her lips.

The door rattled again and Amy jumped. “You’re the genius hotshot. What are we going to do?”

Jack casually put his hands into his pockets as he thought. “Well, if they’re going to talk, why don’t we give them something to talk about?”

It felt like all the blood that had rushed to her face drained clear out. “If you’re proposing that we...in here...” Oh, my gosh. While the idea of a romantic interlude with Jack Shepard was more than intriguing, she wasn’t prepared for that. She didn’t do those sorts of things despite what people might think. Jack was a man of the world. He probably had women falling all over him all the time. World-class athlete turned business mogul? Yeah. And it wasn’t like she was a prude, but it was a long jump to hookup sex in a public bathroom.

He chuckled. “No, not that. Though to be honest it’s an alluring idea. What I meant was, come back to the dance. Dance with me again to show everyone it doesn’t matter. And then I’ll drive you home.”

That she didn’t dismiss the idea right away spoke volumes. Could she do it? Walk out of here with her head held high and ignore all the whispers? A little part of her said that she was treated the way she was because she perpetuated the perception. Why did everyone’s opinion of her matter so much, anyway?

No one would be expecting a strong, confident woman who didn’t give a damn. And she really wanted to be that woman for once in her life.

“We already danced twice,” he reminded her. “Spent time in a locked bathroom. All that will happen is that they’ll keep on believing what they already think to be true. And would that be so bad?”

“That I’m a chaser and a...”

Frowning, he put a finger over her lips. “Don’t say that word. Just don’t. You’re not.”

His finger was warm and firm against the soft flesh of her lips and for a long moment their gazes caught and held. He didn’t like what she’d been about to say. She wondered why. Wondered if he really did have a rescue complex. There had to be a flaw somewhere. Jack Shepard was just a little too perfect.

“Come dance with me. Otherwise you’re just running with your tail between your legs. I don’t know about you, but I’ve always preferred a good fight to a quiet retreat.”

Easy for him to say. She’d be here in town long after he was gone. She’d be the one going to a bleak and dismal home night after night when what she really longed for was some color and excitement. With a sinking heart, she realized tonight would only be more ammunition for those people who would make her a laughingstock.

She remembered the news reports in the sports pages after Jack’s ski injury. They hadn’t always been kind. They’d said something like “Fast on and off the hill.” Jack had faced a fair bit of nasty press in his day but he’d risen above it. She could do worse for a champion, she supposed.

And then there were Callum and Avery, the bride and groom, and Jack’s sister, Taylor, who’d been surprisingly nice to her at Avery’s wedding shower. And her boss, Melissa Stone, who’d given her a chance with her job. She was pretty sure that working with Melissa had snagged her the invite to the wedding in the first place.

But could she do it? Could she face them all with her head held high? It was a tall order, when she’d been aware of the whispers for years. Since she was ten and her dad had walked out. She’d heard the rumors that he’d left them for someone else. Had no idea if they were true or not, because her mother wouldn’t speak of him.

“That’s a crazy idea.” She still had the urge to collect her coat and flee. It would be easier....

“Probably. But if you run away, they win.”

And then he smiled, a conspiratorial sort of grin that climbed his cheek and warmed the depths of his eyes. Like they were in cahoots. And in that moment Amy realized that she didn’t just think Jack was okay. She really, truly liked him. He would be a good person to have on her side.

Her heartbeat quickened with nerves. “One dance, and then you’ll take me home?”

“Cross my heart.” He made the motion over his left breast and then held out his hand. “Shall we?”

She swallowed tightly, her throat constricting as she braced herself for whatever was on the other side of the door. “I’m game if you are.” The words sounded more sure than she really was.

She put her fingers in his and squeezed. Lifted her chin and shook her hair back over her shoulders. He returned the squeeze of her fingers, giving her confidence. She took a deep breath, let it out slowly.

Amy refused to look anywhere but straight ahead as Jack unlocked the door and swung it open. Half a dozen people were standing around, and out of the corner of her eye she saw someone from the club maintenance crew coming around the corner—presumably to unlock the locked door. She felt heat climb her cheeks but then Jack squeezed her hand reassuringly.

“Hey, how’s it going?” he asked the room at large, tugging her behind him. She gaped. How could he sound so casual? So effortlessly charming? She hurried to keep up with him, which was difficult considering his long legs and her high heels. She could feel the stares on her back and had the oddest urge to giggle. Considering all the times she hadn’t wanted to make a spectacle and had anyway, this moment was surreal and more than a little comical. She’d pegged Jack as a lot of things—handsome, charming—but she hadn’t considered him chivalrous. There really was no other way to describe his actions tonight.

She got her footing and evened out her stride, keeping her chin defiantly raised. Jack was right. This felt much better than slinking away as if she were guilty of something! The only thing she was guilty of was trying to help.

The song playing was a fast one, so Jack steered her toward the bar first. “Tonic and lime for me, champagne for the lady, please,” he ordered, and in seconds a glass of fizz was placed in her hand. “Cheers,” he said, touching his glass to hers. “Come on.”

He took her hand again and led her to the fringe of the floor. They paused and she took a long drink of champagne, enjoying the bubbles as they exploded on her tongue. The last time she’d had champagne it wasn’t real champagne at all but the cheap fizzy stuff from the liquor store that cost less than ten dollars a bottle and was far too sweet. This was drier, with a bit of bite, and tasted expensive.

And just like that she was reminded once more that Jack Shepard was a millionaire. Maybe even a billionaire. Not that he put on airs or anything, or threw his money around. It was easy to forget when he was here, in a place like this, dressed like all the other groomsmen. Truth be told, on a regular day 90 percent of the guys here would be in boots and Stetsons. Jack’s sporting goods empire was huge and he ran some sort of outdoor adventure ranch in Montana. He’d been an Olympic downhiller, just missing the podium in his one and only games before going on to make his mark in the business world. And she’d been locked in a bathroom with him for a good ten, fifteen minutes.

The nervous giggle she’d been holding in slipped out.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” she answered, draining her glass of champagne and looking longingly at the empty flute. It would be gauche to ask for another, but oh, my, it was delicious.

She noticed Jack give a nod to the DJ, and seconds later the song changed to something slower.

He took her hand and led her to the floor. His fingers gripped hers, his other hand placed firmly on the hollow of her back as he drew her close. In her heels, she only had to tip her head a little to have her lips at the bottom of his ear. “You are used to people taking your orders,” she observed as their feet began to move.

“Yes, I am. But only when I’m being reasonable.”

“Are you ever unreasonable?”

He lowered his chin and looked down at her, his expression unexpectedly serious. “Not as often as I used to be.”

Something delicious swirled around in her tummy. “You mean you’ve left your bad-boy days behind?”

“Mostly.”

She blinked. “Mostly?” What did that mean?

“Well, locking myself in a bathroom with you probably wasn’t the most reasonable move. Though I must say I did behave myself. Even you can’t deny that.”

She was about to laugh when he said, “More’s the pity.”

And the laugh died in her throat, replaced instead by an acute awareness of what could have happened in that bathroom. What everyone probably thought had happened....

“They were going to talk regardless,” he said quietly, his lips against her temple as he read her thoughts. “This way they talk about you sneaking away with me instead of locking yourself away crying over him.”

He was right. And she would rather that, than everyone view her as pathetic, as they normally did.

As his hand rode perilously close to her tailbone, she recalled the scandal that broke just prior to the fall that messed up his knee for good. There’d been a photograph of him and a woman.... His coach’s wife, if she remembered correctly. Had he been in love with her? Licked his wounds in private? What secrets was Jack hiding beneath his cool, confident exterior? There had to be more to the man than what she saw. No one was that perfect.

“Do you love him, Amy?”

“What? Who?” she asked, confused.

They danced along to the music, feet moving in perfect rhythm. “Rhys Bullock. Are you in love with him?”

“God, no.” The denial came swiftly to her lips. Rhys was attractive, and for most of the women in Cadence Creek, the ungettable get. They’d gone on exactly one date and while he was nice enough, they hadn’t clicked at all. Catching the bouquet had been pure chance. And Rhys hadn’t exactly pushed her away during the dance. Rhys was a challenge to the female population of Cadence Creek.

“Then why the tears?” Jack asked.

She met his gaze. “Truthfully? Humiliation. It’s not every day that someone claims you’re the last woman on earth they’d want to date. Now be quiet, eh? I have a lot more fun when we’re not talking.”

His eyes flashed at her. “Be careful, talking like that could get you into trouble.”

“You promised to be honorable.”

“I still have to drive you home. The night’s not over yet.”

Again, the curl of excitement wound through her as he flirted. She was under no illusions. There was no future with Jack. He was not a romantic prospect or a ticket anywhere, nor did she want him to be. But he was fun and interesting and different and exciting, and at this moment those were fantastic attributes. It beat the hell out of chocolate fudge ice cream and a ten-year-old chick flick on cable.

His arm tightened around her, pulling her closer against his length. He still wore his tuxedo jacket, unbuttoned, and her fingers pressed against the rich, thick material. She slipped her fingers beneath the lapel and felt the heat of his skin through the satiny material of his vest. “You have a lot of layers on,” she murmured, her lashes fluttering as the hand at her waist kneaded the top of her tailbone.