Tempting the Rancher (Meier Ranch Brothers 1)

“See you tomorrow night, Nat,” said Lon.

Nat nodded.

Miss Bess said something snarky about January by way of goodbye. Something about her waiting another ten years to come back to Close Call. The thought made him damned near lose Mack’s leftover chili he’d had for lunch all over some Texas-sized cleavage, but punishing the messenger would only feel good for as long as she startled. Nat had a problem. A five-foot-six, energetic, magnificently sculpted and joy-filled fireball of a world-traveler kind of problem.

On the way out to his truck, he shoved the envelope in the trash can. That’s what came from being spontaneous.

Heartbreak. Pure and simple.

9

January had to be at LAX at an absurd hour the next morning, which meant her flight left Houston at an ungodly hour. Long about noon, she decided it was best to leave for the city tonight.

The ranch had been eerily quiet all day. Auction day. January tried to belt out her favorite country tunes while she packed, but it ended up being noise and provided zero distraction from Nat’s predicament. Something Mona said over ice cream after her date last night had January thinking. Hard. If Nat didn’t make his numbers, the bank would seize the ranch house and every single acre and reduce Nat to nothing more than a ranch hand on his own land. And, well, that didn’t sit well with her. January had learned to ride horses here, be part of an extended family here, love here. This land was more than a healthy strip of Texas. It was her home, too. That realization had her tearing up at every loving-n-leaving tune that came over the airwaves. By the time Mona knocked off her work early that afternoon and crossed the trailer’s threshold, January had decided to do something about those numbers.

While Mona showered, January endorsed the cashier’s check she had intended to deposit at her international bank and added Pay to the order of Nathaniel James Meier. Thirty thousand dollars, less some travel cash and the money she had used for Nat’s surprise. She placed it inside a plain envelope. She wrapped a note around the check that read: For MooDonna. Take good care of her. Love, J. January doodled a cow for good measure. And because her mother was taking forever to shave her legs. Clearly Mona had not anticipated action with Harlan the previous night.

January was zipping her pack when Mona reentered the room, wearing a towel turban and a god-awful shirt that had been bedazzled to say Bitch, please. I’m from Texas.

“Well, you’re not leaving yet, are you?” As if leaving was the equivalent of lying down in front of a moving bulldozer.

“I was thinking about it.”

“You’ll miss the party.”

“What party?”

“Every year after the auction, Nat hires a company to set up one of them gigantic blow-up screens and a fancy sound system in one of his unused pastures for a drive-in movie. Everyone for three counties comes with their popcorn and snacks. Nat’s way of thanking his staff and the community, keeping the Meier name at the front of their minds when it comes to the cattle business. He puts aside all his column money each year to fund it.”

“I don’t know, Mom. I still need to put the finishing touches on Nat’s gift. And I’m not really in a party mood.”

“It ain’t about mood, J-Rose. It’s about being part of something. Being together, instead of wandering through this life alone. Then if you need to head out, you’ll have a memory to pack with you. Besides, I told Wynona you’d be there.”

January clicked her tongue. “Aw. You didn’t. Ma, she squeezes my boobs every time to see if I’ve grown.”

“I know she’s got a gaping hole in her screen door, but she means well, and she did give you a handsome sum for graduation that got you all the way to Paris.”

“She’s a closet lesbian.”

“Well, she is a preacher’s daughter. Figures if she’s going to hell in a handbasket, she’ll grab a few things along the way.” Mona made busywork of straightening up, which took all of ten seconds in a trailer the size of a shipping container, then rummaged through a drawer in the kitchen nook. “Now where is that extension co

rd I promised the event people?”

January wanted to talk to her mom about the ranch, the money, the overwhelming sense of doubt that set in sometime between packing and unpacking twice and writing a goodbye letter then flaming it over the gas range burner. “Mom?”

“Aha, your map pins.” Mona shook the box and presented it to January, lid open. “Time to mark the next part of your journey.”

January studied the cluster of multi-colored pins. Nepal wasn’t red—her father had never been there. Nepal wasn’t green, for a place Mona read about at the beauty salon, or yellow, a place January couldn’t spell. Nepal was blue because she was running away. She couldn’t repeat the mistakes of her father. She couldn’t be the flaws Nat tolerated in exchange for their most exhilarating love. She wouldn’t do that to him.

Blue pin in hand, she found Nepal on the map and traced her finger along the fuzzy seam that cut right through Kathmandu. The print, once crisp, was now almost unreadable. Her fingers shook; her face twisted on an ugly-cry.

Mona rubbed lazy circles on January’s back and softened her voice from the truck-pull decibel level it had been moments earlier. “What’s wrong, baby?”

“Leaving…has never…been a problem for me.” January hiccupped her way through her declaration. “I’ve always…relied on my…instincts.”

“That you have. And they’re damn fine instincts, J-Rose.” She wrenched the pin from the hand January had fisted at her forehead. “What’re those instincts telling you now?”

“They’re telling me not to go. I’m all mixed up, but it’s clear Nat doesn’t recognize the real me when I let my guard down.”