found out what it was.”
“Lex, just remember I’m the one who insisted we needed Jubal,” Matt told his cousin, then turned a grateful look on Jubal. “I hope you don’t regret taking the job.”
Regret? The only thing Jubal regretted was losing Angela five years ago. Taking this job had led him back to her. And this time he was going to do things right.
“Not for a minute,” Jubal told him.
Chapter Three
Two days later, Angie was back in the kitchen of the big house helping Geraldine wrap dark blue cellophane around two huge baskets.
“Angie, I want you to take these two holiday baskets to Jubal’s. Not the clinic, but his house,” she said. “They’re full of useful little things for his new home and some goodies for him to eat. Men aren’t too good about cooking for themselves, you know. You do know how to get there, don’t you?”
Angie stared blankly at the woman. She loved her boss and certainly wanted to do everything to please the woman. But go to Jubal’s house? The last time she saw him, she’d said that she never wanted to see him again. After that, there was no telling what he’d think when he saw her driving up.
“I—I believe so. It’s over the hill, north of the ranch yard. On the left of the road.”
“That’s right. But the road is too rough for your car. You’d better take my old truck.”
The tall, slender, silver-haired woman gathered the cellophane paper at the top of one of the baskets and tied it off with a small piece of grass twine. A masculine touch, for an extremely masculine man, Angela thought wryly.
“Uh—what if he isn’t there?” Angela asked.
“Doesn’t matter. I seriously doubt he’ll have his doors locked. Just take the baskets inside and put the perishables in the refrigerator.”
Please, God, don’t let him be there, Angela silently prayed. “Yes, ma’am. I’ll take care of it right now.”
“Take care of what?” Cook asked as she stepped into the kitchen.
Geraldine looked around as Cook approached them. “I’m sending Angie to deliver these baskets to Jubal’s house. I want him to feel really at home here on the ranch. Maybe these few things will help.”
A tiny frown pulled Cook’s brows together as her dark eyes glanced over at Angela. “She don’t need to deliver those baskets,” she said to Geraldine. “I’ll get Alida to do it.”
“Alida is over at the Sanchez house,” Geraldine reasoned. “And Angela isn’t helpless.”
Even though she knew the two women had a close relationship that spanned decades, Angela didn’t want Cook to get into a rift with Geraldine over her. So when Cook opened her mouth to utter another protest, Angela quickly jumped in. “It’s no problem, Cook. I’ll get these delivered and be back in no time.”
Frowning, Geraldine’s glance swung suspiciously back and forth between Angela and Cook. “Is something wrong? Why shouldn’t Angela deliver these baskets to Jubal?”
Forcing a cheery smile to her face, Angela swiftly reassured her. “There’s nothing wrong, Miss Geraldine. Cook just wants me to help her with a dish we were planning for tonight’s meal. That’s all.”
Seeming to accept Angela’s explanation, the ranch lady glanced at the cuffed watch on her wrist. “Well, it’s still a long time before supper. You’ll have plenty of time to help her.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Angela replied, then turned and gathered up one of the huge baskets.
“I’ll help you carry this one.” Cook promptly collected the other basket from the table and followed Angela outside.
At the west side of the house, Angela opened the door to Geraldine’s work truck and carefully placed the basket she was carrying on the floorboard. Behind her, Cook snorted.
“Why did you interfere in there, honey? I could’ve gotten you out of this little job. It’s plain to me that you don’t want to go to Jubal’s house.”
“It’s all right, Cook. The man probably isn’t home anyway.”
“Angie, maybe you should fess up to Geraldine,” Cook suggested. “Tell her that there’s bad blood between you and the doc.”
Angela swallowed down a sigh. “There’s not bad blood, Cook. Just painful memories. Besides, I can’t complain to Miss Geraldine. I’m not important to her and she could easily replace me. Now Jubal—everyone on the ranch already thinks he’s just dandy and his job here is very important.”
Angela took the basket from Cook’s arms and thrust it into the truck.
Scowling, Cook said, “You’re important to me. That counts for somethin’, don’t it?”
Smiling now, Angela turned and kissed the old woman’s cheek. “It counts for everything. Now don’t worry about me. I can handle myself around Jubal Jamison.”
With that brave statement, she climbed into the truck and headed it toward Jubal’s.
As Angela bounced over the rough dirt road washed out from a string of fall rains, she turned up the heater and glanced at the gray sky. Winter in south Texas never lasted long, but it was a dismal time for humans and livestock. This morning Angela was feeling particularly shivery, but she had a feeling the weather had nothing to do with the chill deep inside her.
Facing east, Jubal’s cedar-sided house was located on a low, grassy hill with a small creek running in front of it. As she crossed a slab of concrete that spanned the shallow path of water, Angela geared down the truck, then urged the vehicle on up the hill to where a spreading live oak shaded a large, graveled driveway.
She parked the truck, relieved to note that there was no vehicle near the house or the barn. Hopefully, if she worked quickly, she could deposit the baskets inside and be on her way before Jubal showed up.
Pulling the hood of her sweatshirt over her head, she grabbed up one of the baskets and hurried toward the wood-planked porch leading up to the entrance. Along the way, she caught the scent of wood smoke on the wind and looking up spotted a few white puffs coming from the red brick chimney at the right side of the structure.
Stepping up onto the porch, she noticed wicker lawn furniture at one end and a row of potted succulents lined along the wall. Jubal’s place looked homey and inviting, a place for a family. But Jubal didn’t have a family, she thought with dismay.
The baby Evette had been expecting had never been born. The fact still continued to shock her. Down through the years, she’d imagined Jubal and Evette together, raising their child together, while she and Melanie had struggled by themselves.
Oh God, why couldn’t she forget about it? Let it go?
After several knocks on the door, she tried the handle and found it unlocked. Feeling like an interloper, she opened the door wide enough to place the gift basket inside the room, then hurried back to the truck for the second one.
She
