Call Of The West. Myrna TemteЧитать онлайн книгу.
that greedy, stubborn old coot an offer he couldn’t refuse.
And maybe, if Jake was real lucky, he could convince Hope to come back and stay in the Flying M’s guesthouse again. Then the Mamas would smile and cook his favorite meals again, and he could at least try to make up with Hope. Every time he remembered what he’d said to her the day of the wedding, he felt guilty all over again.
He hadn’t laid eyes on her since then, and the thought of seeing her now made him smile. He wouldn’t say he’d actually missed her. But without the possibility of Hope turning up with some flimsy excuse to see him, his days had seemed a little…flat.
Shaking his head at his own contrariness, Jake turned in at the Double Circle’s entrance. He drove around back and parked behind Hope’s little red car. Doofus ran across the yard to greet him. Jake leaned down and scratched the pup’s ears.
“Hey there, Doofus. You’d better stop growing or George might mistake you for a horse and throw a saddle on your back.” The possibility didn’t seem to worry Doofus much. He ran off when Jake pretended to throw a stick for him.
Chuckling, Jake climbed the steps to the back door and gave it a good, solid knock. George opened it a moment later, a surprisingly cheerful smile curving up the corners of his mouth. He stepped back out of the way and motioned for Jake to come in.
“Mornin’, Jake. What brings you out this way?”
Jake stepped over the threshold and took off his hat. “I want to talk to you if you’ve got time, George.”
“I reckon I can spare a few minutes.” Using his cane, George hobbled over to the round oak table and settled onto a straight-backed wooden chair.
Jake took the one adjacent to George’s and glanced around the kitchen. He saw new, colorful dishtowels hanging beside the sink in place of the dingy, ragged ones that usually hung there. A canning jar full of fresh flowers sat on top of a microwave oven that hadn’t been there the last time Jake visited the old man. Hope must be making herself at home.
“What can I do for ya?” George asked.
“Tell me what it’ll take to convince you to sell me the Double Circle,” Jake replied.
“Well, now, I’ve been thinkin’ a lot about that since the last time you tried to buy it.” George’s smile grew wider.
Jake’s heart swelled with hope until his chest hurt. This was the first time George had ever admitted he’d even considered selling the Double Circle. Jake had wanted this for so long, the desperation he’d felt earlier returned with a vengeance. Hardly daring to breathe, he said, “Yeah?”
George nodded. “Your offer was damn generous. But back then, I just couldn’t stand to let the place go.”
“What about now?” Jake asked, his voice tinged with the desperate agony of hope that had been dashed too many times before.
“I’d like to sell it to ya, Jake. I really would, but…”
His heart already plummeting, Jake read the refusal coming in George’s eyes. “But what?”
“But you better look for another place,” George said. “I’m gonna be usin’ this one myself for the foreseeable future.”
His stomach painfully clenching with disappointment, Jake stared at the old man. Then Jake’s temper got the best of him. “Dammit, George, what are you thinking?” he demanded. “You’re going to have to quit sometime. And you know good and well that even with a hired hand, you can’t handle this place anymore.”
“I won’t have to.” George’s eyes sparkled with an unholy glee Jake didn’t understand.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m tired of bein’ alone.” George ran one hand over the top of his head as if he still had hair up there to smooth down. “I’m thinkin’ about gettin’ married again. Maybe havin’ some kids this time.”
“Married?” Jake sputtered. “Kids?”
“Yeah. You know, babies. Heirs.”
Jake’s mouth fell open. Had the old boy finally gone completely senile? Jake doubted there was a woman of child-bearing age in a hundred-mile radius who’d even pretend to consider such a thing.
A soft, whispery sound distracted him. He glanced up in time to see Hope saunter into the kitchen, wearing a shiny purple robe that barely reached the middle of her thighs. Her hair was slicked back as if she’d just stepped out of the shower. He’d never seen it black before.
Hope’s gaze met his, her eyes widening as if he was the last person she’d expected—or wanted—to see in George’s house. She hesitated a fraction of a second, then turned toward the counter beside the sink and crossed the room without so much as another glance in Jake’s direction. Jake gritted his teeth and found himself watching the sway of her hips beneath that short robe and wondering what, if anything, she had on beneath it.
Her slender legs looked smooth and tanned, and when she went up on her tiptoes to take two coffee mugs from the cupboard, her calf muscles stood out in sharp relief. Jake held his breath while the back of her robe hiked up—but not quite high enough to satisfy his curiosity about her underwear. Or the lack of it.
Lowering her heels to the floor, she moved to her right, filled the mugs with coffee and carried them to the table. She set one mug in front of George, then affectionately patted his bony shoulder, took the chair on his other side and sipped from the second mug.
George glanced over at her, his eyebrows arched in query. “Aren’t you gonna offer Jake some coffee?”
“No,” she replied with a grin. “He might stay longer if I did.”
Jake refused to acknowledge her deliberate rudeness. His sister Alex used to start fights with outrageous remarks and he’d learned not to get suckered in by them. George opened his mouth as if he might protest, but Jake held up a hand to stop him. “Don’t worry about it, George. I don’t want coffee.”
“Don’t know what you’re missing, boy. Hope brews a mean cup.” George exchanged a warm smile with Hope that chilled Jake’s blood.
No. It couldn’t be. Hope wouldn’t take up with an old guy like George. Would she?
Jake gave his head a hard shake in denial, but the shocking idea remained. Hope wasn’t from Wyoming. He didn’t have a clue about what she would or wouldn’t do. Sure wouldn’t be the first time a young, pretty gal married an old man for his money. Happened all the time. Especially in a place like Hollywood.
She scowled at him. “Why are you looking at me that way?”
“What way?” Jake asked.
“As if you think I’m going to steal George’s silverware.”
George snorted with laughter. “It ain’t that, hon. I just told Jake I can’t sell him the Double Circle.”
“Yeah, he claims he’s thinking about getting married and having some kids.” Jake’s voice sounded harsh in his own ears, but he was too upset to care. “Any truth in what he says?”
Confused, Hope glanced at George, raising her eyebrows in a silent plea for a clue as to what was going on. Tilting his head ever so slightly toward Jake, George gave her a sly wink. Why, the old devil wanted her to play along with him, but what was he up to now?
Deciding to give him the benefit of her considerable doubt, she turned back to Jake with a shrug. “You know George. When he decides to be charming, almost anything’s possible.”
Jake’s tanned complexion flushed a dull red. His eyes glinting dangerously and a vein pulsing in the middle of his forehead, he ground out, “A week ago, you were all over me.”
“And you called me ‘a flaky little California floozy.’” Reminding herself of Rule Number Two—never