The Cowboy's Girl Next Door: A BWWM Cowboy Romance (3 page)

It was something out of a movie. Two stories, perfectly painted white with dark green shutters. Two porches, one on each floor, wrapped around the house, and each was outfitted as though as much time was spent living outside the home as inside. Beautiful azalea and hydrangea bushes were blooming, soft bright pastels providing splashes of color against the stark white of the house. She took a picture and wondered about her potential new neighbors.

“Can I help you?”

Claire turned sharply toward the voice, embarrassed to be so openly staring at this home on the isolated road. The first thing she saw was the horse, a tall sleek beauty with chocolate brown coat and deep honey colored mane. The rider, a young woman, looked more curious than angry at the sight of a stranger. “I’m sorry to bother you. Just heard a lot about this place from my realtor, and I thought I’d take a look.”

The rider leaped from her mount. “You looking at Heart’s Home?” She extended her hand. “My name’s Cella, Cella Price. My Mom and my uncle own this place.”

Claire shook her hand, surprised at how excited and eager this young woman seemed. “Nice to meet you. I’m Claire Robinson. Yes, I just finished looking at Heart’s Home. Margy showed it me.”

“I’ll bet she was real thrilled to show it to you; she’s been trying to sell it for the Thompsons forever! Oh!” Cella covered her mouth, embarrassed. “Maybe I shouldn’t have said that.”

Claire laughed. “It’s OK. I know it’s been vacant for a long time, and while it’s going to need some work, it’s a beautiful place.”

“Isn’t it, though?” Claire gushed. “My favorite place is the little pond out on the west corner. We used to have the best picnics there.” She stopped suddenly and looked down toward the ground. Her straight brown hair fell almost like a curtain around her face, and Claire wondered why she suddenly felt so sad.

Cella took a deep breath and looked back up. “Sorry. Just had a memory. Well, I’d better get inside and tend to my chores.” She stroked the horse’s mane. “C’mon, Cupcake. Let’s get you home.” She turned back to Claire. “It was nice to meet you. I hope we get to see you again real soon.”

They shook hands, and Claire replied, “I hope so, too.”

Claire watched Cella ride off toward what she could only assume were the stables, then got into her car and drove to town. She checked in at the hotel, finding her room small but well appointed.

She then went in search of Victor’s Café, which her map showed to be a couple of blocks away. She couldn’t help but appreciate the charm of the town center. It was well laid out and offered a healthy number of restaurants, clothing stores and services like beauty salons, banks, and insurance agents, among others. There was a new, modern community center. The area was noted for beautiful scenery and she looked forward to exploring that in the near future.

She found Margy seated at a table on the sidewalk outside the café, already enjoying a glass of iced tea. Once she was seated, a waiter came to take their order, and while they waited for their food, the conversation turned to the town. As they ate, Margy told her a bit about Kerrville history, the scenic beauty around it, its founding, its growth through industrial means.

She didn’t shy away from the less pleasant parts of the town’s history, but instead told it all in an unvarnished way that Claire found refreshing. This was her greatest fear about finding a ranch in the south: to feel herself surrounded by unwelcome people.

Margy did not give her such a feeling, but she was not naive. Still, she’d survived any number of slights and difficulties in Atlanta; Kerrville felt comfortable to her in a way that was affirming.

“So,” Margy said as she sipped a bit of tea, “what does a city girl like you want with a horse ranch?”

Claire swallowed her last bit of the delicious red beans and rice, and gently wiped her mouth before speaking. “I need a change; I need to get out of the city.” She took a drink of the cold sweet tea. “I’ve been there all my life, and it’s only gotten bigger and louder. I want to start fresh.”

Margy’s eyes twinkled with amusement. “Starting up a horse ranch is a pretty big change, I’d say.” She reached into the weather-beaten leather bag she toted and pulled out a folder. “Let’s have a talk about this offer, and then I’ll take you on the tour.”

Claire grinned and pulled out her own notes and a calculator. It was definitely time to get to business.

Chapter Three

Supper at Bar None was a quiet affair that evening, as it was most nights. Jess grilled steaks, Lacey made a potato salad, Cella put the finishing touches on a small layer cake, and Jasper did the only household tasks Lacey trusted  him with – setting  the table and opening a bottle of wine.

“Guess what I heard today?” Lacey asked as she dished out the salad. Jess shrugged; he wasn’t very interested in gossip, but Lacey had to have her Moment, so he usually just let her roll with it. “Someone has made an offer on Heart’s Home!”

“I met her!” Cella exclaimed, and then grew a bit quiet when all eyes at the table turned to her. “Well, at least, I think I met her,” she stammered. “When I was out with Cupcake, I met a woman, I think her name was Claire, and she was at our gate looking at the ranch. She said she’d been at Heart’s Home.” Claire paused and grinned. “Guess we’re getting a new neighbor!”

Lacey’s ears perked up as Cella told her story. “A woman? What was she like? Was she alone?”

“She was alone. She was nice. Drives a black car.”

“And?” Lacey’s tone stretched out the word and hung it over the table.

“And that’s it. She seemed OK. Oh, and she’s black.”

There was a brief and slightly awkward silence at the table as each of them considered Cella’s words. Jess picked up his wineglass and proposed a toast. “To our potential new neighbor.”

Smiles and the clinking of glassware followed, and the conversation resumed as Lacey shared what she’d learned about the new neighbor: that she was from Atlanta, owned a couple of thoroughbred mares, around which she was hoping to build her business, and that she’d had some high powered financial career that she was leaving. She paused in her narrative, looking directly at Jess until she was sure she had his full attention. “I also hear that she’s single.”

Jess rolled his eyes at this obvious hint from his sister. “Let’s give her a little while to get settled before you try to marry her off to one of the locals, huh? Poor woman. She has no idea what she’s getting herself into.”

The rest of the meal passed in speculation about the new neighbor and what changes she might make to Heart’s Home. Jasper wondered about where she’d find a stable manager, if she didn’t have one already, and he mentioned a few of the workers on Bar None who might be good for that job, if she didn’t. Cella wanted to know more about life in a big city. Lacey hoped she’d be able to learn a few things about investing. Jess was largely silent.

“C’mon big brother,” Lacey prodded. “Surely you’ve got something to say about this mysterious new neighbor.”

He finished the last piece of steak on his plate, washed it down with the last of his wine, and rose to bring his dishes to the kitchen. Everyone watched as he rinsed the plate and glass before placing them into the dishwasher. They continued watching as he walked over to the door to the porch and took the keys to his truck from the row of pegs near the door.

“Going to check on the orchard,” he said. “Hope she likes a mixed berry pie.” With that, he left them, Lacey, slack jawed and Cella and Jasper snickering as they finished their supper.

The night was warm with a slight breeze, so Jess drove to the orchards on the far end of the property with the windows rolled down, radio playing blues standards softly in the background. “A new neighbor,” he thought. “A woman is coming to Heart’s Home.” He repeated the thought in his head over and over again, until it began to blend with the strains of the song on the radio.

When he reached the orchards, he parked beneath one of the apple trees, their fragrant flowers bearing the promise of sweet ripe fruit in the coming months. He sauntered over to the berry bushes, his boots soft on the lush green grass. It was twilight, and the softening dark gave the whole area an almost mystical glow.

This had been his mother’s domain and was one of the oldest parts of the ranch. She loved horses, but she loved growing things even more. Bella had embraced the ranch life when Randy brought her to Kerrville from the life in Jackson that she had known. She got involved in the life of the town, never intrusive, always giving and nurturing.

Bella welcomed the local folk to their orchards when fruit was in season, letting people take as much as they wanted from the abundance there. Randy thought they should charge, but Bella wouldn’t hear of it. “Randy Hardy, we are blessed with more than we will even need! Don’t you dare ever think of keeping our neighbors from this orchard.”

If young Jess was in earshot during one of these discussions, she’d look at him and add “when you’re in charge, remember that you have everything you could ever want, and that means you have a responsibility to give as much as you can.”

Cancer had taken her too soon. Jess was ten and Lacey seven when she passed away. She had insisted on hospice at the end, wanting to die at home surrounded by those she loved best.

Jess baked his first pie for her, wanting her to taste the sweet abundance she’d so lovingly cultivated her entire life. It was an ugly mess of a thing, but she had oohed and aahed over it when he proudly presented his work, and she ate a piece, declaring it was the best gift he could ever have given her.

He kept working on his pie making skills after she’d died, pestering Janice, the housekeeper his father brought in to help with the kids, to show him how to make the perfect crust and filling. If Randy Hardy thought his son’s interest in baking was strange, he quickly learned to keep his mouth shut about it when Lacey told him that Jess “was making pies for Momma.”

Jess squatted and plucked a ripe strawberry from the patch. He took a bite, savoring its tart sweet juices. These were ready. He went back to the truck and retrieved a bushel basket and a helmet with a lamp on it to help him see in the growing dark. He worked quickly, selecting the best berries until the basket was full and his back and legs ached.

By the time he returned to the house, the kitchen was cleaned and the house was quiet. He rinsed the berries, dried them carefully, and set to work making a pie. It had been a while since he’d done this, and he wanted to make sure his skills were as strong as they had been before. A new neighbor deserved the best.

Chapter Four

It was finally move-in day. Claire left the house movers under the watchful eyes of her mother, Carmen, who was something of a tyrant when it came to getting her money’s worth from anyone she hired.

As she walked toward the newly refurbished stables, she chuckled at the scene she had just left. Carmen was on the porch, directing the movers as they brought in the antique cherry dining set, threatening to “send them back to their Mommas with their tails between their legs” if they so much as left a mark on the freshly painted porch or the precious furniture.

“I’m going to have to give them a big tip,” Claire muttered as she made her way down the gravel road.

The horse transport team she hired were already busy getting her girls out of their box moving stalls and settled in their new home. Thalia was in her new stall enjoying a post travel meal.

Claire spoke to her soothingly. “Welcome to your new home, baby girl. You’re gonna love it here. Lots of space to run and play for you and Calliope, and we’re gonna have great adventures!” She cautiously smoothed Thalia’s gray mane, and was pleased that the horse gave no resistance, seeming to almost lean into the familiar gentle caress. Claire smiled and patted her softly, then went off in search of Calliope.

The horse had gone into heat the day before they left Atlanta, and Claire had been concerned about transporting her that way. She’d considered waiting a week before leaving, but the stable manager in Georgia reminded her that Thalia’s cycle would likely start shortly after.

Since breeding mares are often transported while in heat, Claire decided it was best to get the move over and done with, and she’d kept her travel plans in place. Calliope had been restless, and balked a bit at the start, but once they’d gotten underway, she’d settled down to everyone’s satisfaction.

Calliope was in her corral. Claire watched as she acquainted herself with the space, nervously trotting around the fencing. She hated that she’d had to transport her this way, but she hoped that in a couple of days she’d be alright. Claire was eager to get both of her girls acquainted with their new home.

Mark, the head of the transport team, came over and leaned beside her on the rail. “Fine horses you’ve got there.”

“Thanks,” Claire replied, her eyes never leaving Calliope as she nervously trotted and paced the boundaries. “And thank you so much for taking such good care of them. The household items could’ve burned up in a crash for all I care; my girls are safe, and that’s all that matters.”

“Our pleasure, ma’am. We’ll be finished up here in about an hour, and then we’ll hit the road. We’ve got a transport from a nearby ranch down south to pick up.”

“Which ranch?” Claire asked.

“Bar None,” he replied. “Need to transport a couple of nurse foals to Safe Harbor.”

Claire frowned at the news. She knew a good bit about the use of nurse mares, and she wasn’t entirely for the practice, particularly since it separated mares and foals at a crucial time for both of them. “Glad to hear they’re taking care of the little darlings, at least,” she sighed. Mark nodded his agreement before adding, “Safe Harbor is a great place, best in the business, if you ask me.”

Claire gave him a small smile, then thanked him again. As he walked away, she thought about her plans for the ranch and for her girls. She wanted to grow, and she wanted them to have good, long lives. They’d never been bred, but that was a vital part of her planning. Breed them with good stallions and slowly build her stable and reputation for quality thoroughbred stock.

She had enough money left from her inheritance to ride it out for a few years while she grew her business, and as she considered her good fortune, she whispered a small prayer to her father. “Thank you, daddy, for everything. I promise I’ll make you proud.”

She heard the beating of hooves and looked toward the source of the sound. There was a horse and rider coming from Bar None. She immediately stood straight, instinctively smoothing the riot of curls she’d put up in a ponytail for the work of the day. She was glad she showered and put on fresh clothes on her arrival; her new neighbors were wealthy and powerful people, and she wanted to make a good first impression.

As they got closer, she could see that the rider was a young man, maybe in his early thirties. The horse was magnificent, and the two of them together against the deep greens of the trees and pastures made her wish, for the briefest of moments, that she was a painter.  She took her phone from her pocket and snapped a few photos. She wanted to remember this view.

The rider was carrying something in his left hand while he guided the stallion with his right. His jeans were tight on his muscular legs, and the blue plaid shirt he wore was simple and perfectly fitted to his chest and arms. His brown hat shielded his face until he was almost right on her, but when he was close enough, she could see his tanned skin, green eyes, and perfectly shaped lips.
Young, attractive
, she thought, and then scolded herself.
You’ve got work to do. Stay focused!

Jess stopped Horatio and looked appreciatively at his new neighbor. “Beautiful,” he murmured, taking in the sight of her. Long legs in perfect dark denim, a loose purple tank revealing the smooth nut-brown skin of her arms. Her hair was a riot of curls trying to be tamed, but tendrils crept out despite her best efforts, framing her face, drawing his eyes to a pretty, pouty mouth. Her eyes were a deep brown, and he looked directly in to them for a moment before speaking.

“Hi. I’m Jess Hardy. Welcome to Heart’s Home.” He handed her the covered pie dish.

“Hi Jess. Claire Robinson. Nice to be welcomed.” She watched him effortlessly dismount, a true horseman entirely in his element. She extended her free hand and he took it in his, giving her a firm warm handshake. She could feel the callouses on his palm and she wondered what he made of hers, before gently removing her hand and turning her attention to his horse.

“Beautiful Arabian,” she said. “What’s his name?”

Jess smiled at her breed knowledge. “Horatio. Pride of my stable.” He motioned to her that it was alright to touch him, and Claire smiled as she extended her hand to stroke Horatio’s sleek black coat.

“I can see why he’s your pride,” she remarked. “I can’t take my eyes off him.”

I can’t take my eyes off of you
, Jess thought, quickly biting his tongue to keep from saying the words aloud. He was completely taken with her. He shook his head. “Mixed berry. From our orchard.” Her questioning look made him add, “...the pie. Homemade.”

She flashed him a warm smile. “My favorite. Thank you; this is truly kind.” Claire bit at her bottom lip, unsure what to do next. There was plenty of work to do, but she didn’t want to appear, well, un-neighborly, especially not for such a neighbor. “Would you like to come inside? We’re just getting settled, but my Mom insisted on bringing the coffee pot and some kitchen stuff in the car so she could get things started right.”

Jess looked hesitant, so she quickly added, “Horatio is welcome to a stall while you’re inside, if you like. Just had the stable repaired, and everything inside is fresh and new.”

She was thankful for the wide grin that spread at her offer, and his voice was soft and steady as he spoke. “I’d love to have coffee and pie with you and your mother. Thank you.”

She led him to the stable and helped him to get Horatio settled in a roomy stall. Jess patted the horse’s flank as they finished. “Behave, boy,” he ordered. “Gotta be nice for the new neighbors.” He tipped his hat to Claire once he’d secured the stall. “Lead the way, my lady.”

Claire’s heart skipped a beat at his words. She swallowed hard.
Charming, that’s all
, she thought to herself, and she quickly walked him out of the stable and toward the house.

Jess had to move at a quick trot to catch up to her, and when he did, he offered to carry the pie. When she refused, he remarked, “The last thing I want your mother to see is me making you do anything you don’t have to do. First impressions are important, especially between new neighbors.”

She stopped walking and they stood, the pie between them, his hands gently taking it from hers. “I need to say one thing, Mr. Hardy.”

“Call me Jess,” he interrupted. “Mr. Hardy was my dad.”

“Jess, then,” she said, resolute. “I appreciate your kindness, but I’m not looking for anything more than a good friend. I’ve got a lot to do to make this place successful.” In her thoughts, she added
and I don’t have time to get lost in those green eyes
.

Jess stiffened, but managed a small smile. “Of course. Ranching is hard work, and I hope that we can be good neighbors and friends. Came over here with no other thought.”

They were silent as they continued their walk. Jess felt a bit stung by the preemptive dismissal, but he understood, and, truth be told, respected her for it. It was clear to him that while her beginnings here were small, she was eager to make Heart’s Home everything it could be, and he admired her determination to do it on her own and, he assumed, on her own terms as well.

Claire mentally chastised herself. How could she have been so assuming about his intentions? He’d done nothing untoward, said nothing that could be construed as anything other than friendly. Her experience with Kyle had made her wary, that was all, and she comforted herself with that thought as they walked into the kitchen.

“What can I do to help?” Jess asked after putting the pie on the counter. Boxes marked “kitchen” were stacked against the far wall, but he could see a camp coffee pot on the stove and a carafe and mug nearby. “I use one of these,” he said, pointing to the pot.

Claire gave him a bemused grin. “My mother’s. She insists it’s the only way to make proper coffee.” She laughed, then added, “I took her to a Starbucks once, and she complained the entire time about the coffee being burned. I thought the baristas were going to toss us out, so I bought a couple of pounds of their ground beans to take home as a sort of peace offering.”

“And when I made their coffee my way, you said it was infinitely better.” Claire and Jess looked toward the living room where Carmen leaned against the doorway, arms folded. Jess liked her immediately, her brown eyes twinkling under a head of silver close-cut  curls. He walked over and extended his hand to her. “I couldn’t agree more, ma’am. Jess Hardy, owner of Bar None, the ranch next door.”

Carmen shook his hand. “Carmen Robinson, mother of the finest horsewoman you’ll ever meet. At least,” she said as she released his hand and walked over to her daughter at the kitchen counter, “that’s what her coaches always told me about her. Don’t have much use for horses, myself. Give me a car or a bike and I’m good to go.”

Claire blushed at her mother’s words and busied herself getting mugs, paper plates, and utensils from the box of kitchen essentials.

“Well, I’ll be!” Carmen exclaimed, and Claire turned her attention to her mother who was removing the cover from the pie. “This is art.” The room was instantly filled with the scent of warm sweet berries and crust. “Seems a shame to cut it,” she added, “but I have no shame when it comes to homemade pie.”

She took the knife that Claire offered her and made the first cut into the honey brown crust, then served slices for each of them while Jess helped Claire bring coffee and plates to the small round kitchen table.

They talked as they ate, Carmen filling Jess in on the adventures of their moving trip and the inadequacies of the movers in between exclamations about the pie. Claire couldn’t help but notice Jess’s discomfort every time Carmen brought up the pie, but she was unable to steer her mother away from the topic entirely. It was a great relief, therefore, when one of the movers came in to ask a question about the bedroom furniture, and Carmen bustled out after him, threatening his life if he messed up the stairs.

“A forced to be reckoned with,” Jess said as he finished the last of his slice of pie. “Will she be living here with you?”

Carmen shook her head as she sipped her coffee. “No, Mom’s very much attached to her life in Atlanta, especially her weekly mah jong game. She’s here to help me get settled, but I hope that one day she’ll decide to join me out here.”

They sat in awkward silence for a few moments. Neither wanted the interaction to end, but Claire needed to pay Mark and his team, and Jess needed to get home and think about why he was so keyed up. “So,” Claire said, just as Jess started, “Well…” They looked at each other and laughed. “I’ve got to see the team off,” Claire said. “I think they’re headed to your place next.”