The Texas Rancher's Vow. Cathy Gillen ThackerЧитать онлайн книгу.
mused. No interruptions. No Matt barging in—or out—for hot kisses, or learning things about the lone Briscoe heir that she would rather not know.
Like the fact they’d both lost a parent in their early twenties, then been betrayed by someone they had trusted.
Not, Jen scolded herself firmly, that any of that mattered. She and Matt Briscoe were as different as night and day. And likely to stay that way, since he tried to control everything in his universe, and she tried to control nothing in hers…except her own reaction to things.
“So what do you think?” she asked Emmett, when he stopped in to check on her progress.
He looked at the twenty photos Jen had selected. All were displayed on the big library table. All had the potential to be turned into bronze sculptures.
“This is my favorite,” he said in a choked voice. He pointed to a particularly poignant photo of himself and his late wife, taken soon after they had married. Emmett and Margarite were riding side by side on big beautiful horses. Young, vital and exceptionally attractive, they were clad in casual Western riding attire, and seemed in sync emotionally and physically.
“Mine, too,” Jen murmured.
Mostly because Emmett and his new bride both looked so happy. And so immune to the life challenges to come…
“I’d like you to start with this one,” he continued, tearing up.
Jen turned away and gave him time to compose himself.
When she looked again, he was standing with both hands thrust in the pockets of his khaki trousers. Tears gone. No longer trembling.
“You’ve done a great job whittling it down,” he declared in a firm, authoritative voice.
Happy to hear that, Jen smiled at him. “Thank you.” She was going to enjoy working with Emmett on this commission.
“I like this one, too.” He pointed to a photo of Matt and he flanking his wife’s chair, at what appeared to be Matt’s high school graduation. All were smiling determinedly, but there was a sadness underlying the cheer on those faces, giving the moment special poignancy. Yet Jen had pulled it out anyway, because it was definitely a milestone moment for the family.
“I wasn’t sure if you wanted any sculptures of your wife when she was sick.” Although Margarite was not seated in a wheelchair, Jen suspected that she had been using one at the time the photo was taken. Otherwise, she probably would have been standing with her husband and son.
“That was my initial response. Maybe I was wrong. Perhaps,” Emmett said, “it’s time I embraced every aspect of my life. And hers.” He turned toward Jen. “Can you do all twenty of these photos? Turn them into sculptures?”
That was double his initial order!
Trying not to get ahead of themselves, Jen warned, “That would take at least a year and a half, if not more….”
“I’ll give you ten thousand dollars per bronze, as long as I get a royalty on any copies that are sold.”
That ego again!
“Why don’t I do the first one—the one we decided on last evening—and see how happy you are with that before we go any further?” she proposed.
Emmett grinned, looking like his old self again. “Trying to raise the price on me?”
“Not at all.”
“Good thing,” Matt said, sauntering into the room. Ranch dust clung to his sweat-stained clothing. A touch of sunburn highlighted the handsome angles of his face. Jen figured he hadn’t shaved since the previous morning, which made the black scruff on his jaw all the more pronounced. And he smelled to high heaven, yet she was ridiculously glad to see him.
“’Cause I’d have something to say about that,” he continued in his lazy, provoking drawl.
“Good to see you, too,” Jen murmured, rolling her eyes. Not.
Ignoring his presence, she looked at Emmett and continued their conversation in a crisp, businesslike tone. “Everything that was shipped to me arrived by noon, but there are still some things I’m going to need for my stay. So if it’s okay, I’m going to call it quits for today and head into Laramie to do a little shopping and get some dinner.”
“We’d be happy to hold the evening meal for you,” Emmett said.
She lifted a hand. “No need for that.”
It was time to start setting limits with both father and son.
She smiled and gathered up the photos for further study.
Ignoring Matt’s intent appraisal, she headed for the door. “You all enjoy yourself this evening. And I’ll get started setting up a temporary sculpting studio tomorrow.”
* * *
FIVE HOURS LATER, Emmett said in a worried tone, “Jen should have been back by now.”
Matt looked up from his laptop computer. He’d been doing the ranch books. Or trying. Hands shoved in the pockets of his khaki trousers, Emmett had been pacing the front of the house, looking out the windows, for at least forty-five minutes now.
“Did she give anyone a time to expect her?”
“No. But a storm is brewing. And I don’t like the idea of her driving unfamiliar back roads in the dark and the pouring rain.”
Matt had been thinking the same thing.
Then cursed inwardly for allowing himself to worry. Jen Carson was not his problem.
Except when it came to keeping her from taking advantage of his father.
“I’m sure she has driven in rain before, Dad.”
“In the city. Where she probably knows the roads, and the location of all the low water crossings to avoid.”
He had a point there. “If she takes the farm-to-market road straight to town, she’ll be fine.”
“But she won’t be if she drives the shortest route, which is on the back roads. A lot of which are not well marked.” Emmett grabbed his hat off the coat tree in the front hall and planted it on his head. “I’m going to go out and look for her.”
Matt studied his father’s wan complexion. Although his dad was loath to admit it, these days he tired easily.
Matt supposed it was to be expected, though.
After all, his dad wasn’t getting any younger.
Reluctantly, Matt put his laptop aside and followed him out to the porch.
If Jen hadn’t wanted to handle another stressful family dinner with the two of them, Matt couldn’t wait to hear how she would like being tracked down during her “free time.” Eager to avoid a situation she was likely to consider an intrusion, he asked casually, “Have you tried calling her cell?”
Emmett nodded grimly, squinting at the rural highway barely visible in the distance. Overhead, no stars were discernible. Along the horizon, there were violent flashes of jagged yellow light, and the wind had started whipping up, making the cattle nervous.
“I imagine her phone is either turned off or she’s out of range of a tower.”
She was fine.
It wasn’t like she needed him to rush to her rescue and wrap his arms around her. Even though, Matt admitted to himself, that was a tempting fantasy.
Aware that his dad was still weighing the advisability of going after her, Matt consulted his watch and tried to talk sense into him. “It’s only nine-thirty, Dad.”
It just seemed as if she’d been gone forever.
Emmett rubbed his wrist, as if it were hurting him. “The stores all close at nine.”
“Maybe’s