Celia said, moving to the window to stare after him. “I wasn’t expecting that.”
Shaking off the dark mood that had descended, Jen ran a trembling hand through her hair and quipped, “Never a dull moment in my life, that’s for sure.”
“You feeling okay?”
Jen surveyed her friend’s petite, pregnant form. Was it her imagination or had the baby dropped another couple inches in the last day? “Fine. It’s you I’m worried about.” She led them upstairs to her studio.
“Celia is right,” Cy said. “I don’t think it’s a good idea to meet with the senior Briscoe.”
All three of them congregated around the works in progress. Jen was just finishing up a bust of the mayor, slated for city hall. Cy was making the molds for her work, as well as the dozens of baby shoes that would be bronzed at the foundry. Celia also played an integral role in the business, scheduling all the appointments and keeping the books.
“He said on the phone he wants to commission several bronzes. That’s a lot of money we could all use.” Maybe if they had enough coming in, they could ease out of the baby-paraphernalia-bronzing work that currently underwrote the operating costs of the gallery and the studio, as well as all their salaries.
Cy shook his head. He removed his apron and hung it up next to his own workstation. “We’ll find another way to bump up profits and bring in income, Jen.”
Easier said than done, when my career as an artist is just beginning to take off. Besides… She folded her arms again. “I don’t care how inhospitable Matt Briscoe was. I’m not letting that audacious cowboy scare me off.”
Celia ran a hand over her swollen tummy. “Jen…”
Jen shook her head, refusing the advice. “You two worry about your baby. I’ll worry about me.”
* * *
“ALMOST THERE?” CELIA asked Jen late the next day.
Jen pressed her cell phone closer to her ear. “I can see the entrance to the Triple B Ranch from where I’m standing.” The fifty-thousand-acre ranch was located on the far western edge of Laramie County. Hundreds of black Angus cattle grazed sedately in the rolling green pastures, for as far as the eye could see.
“How is the radiator holding out?”
Jen took the clear plastic jug out of her aging white utility van, pulled on an insulated leather work glove and walked over to lift the hood.
“Okay.” Considering I’ve just driven two hundred miles in a little over four hours. “I’ve been stopping every hour or so to add water.” Carefully, she unscrewed the top. Steam rose, dissipating quickly in the hot, dry summer air.
“I wish you would just get it fixed,” Celia fretted.
Jen frowned at the sight of a horseman breaking away from a group of cowboys. He was headed her way. She turned back to the radiator and dumped another pint into the opening. “I will, as soon as finances allow.” Finished, she set the jug on the ground, replaced the top and then shut the hood. “Listen, I’ve got to go.” She walked back to put the water in the van.
“Call us later. Let us know how it goes.”
“Promise.” Jen ended the call and slipped her cell phone in the pocket of her skirt.
“Trouble?” Dismounting with easy grace, Matt Briscoe inclined his head at the engine.
Jen watched one of the other cowboys come forward and take the reins from him, then he rode back to the herd they’d been tending, with Matt’s horse in tow.
Great. Now she was stuck with him.
“Nope…I’m fine.”
Matt adjusted the brim of his straw hat. “I was hoping you’d take my advice.”
Someone else had said that to her once, and the situation had not ended happily.
The only difference now was that she was a lot better equipped to handle the inevitable criticism doubtlessly coming her way.
Her gut tightening, Jen slammed the cargo door with unnecessary force and gave him a challenging look.
“You’re going to regret this,” he predicted.
For reasons that had little to do with the man she was supposed to meet—and everything to do with the one in front of her—Jen already did.
Determined to get what she wanted out of this arrangement, she bantered back. “I think I can handle whatever comes my way.” Including you.
* * *
MATT WAS USED TO beautiful women. Texas was full of them, and Laramie County had more than their share.
But there was something about this one.
He wasn’t sure whether it was her delicate heart-shaped face, the gold highlights in the wavy chestnut hair, the cornflower-blue of her eyes or the full soft lips beneath her model-perfect nose, but something in Jen Carson had his rapt attention.
It didn’t matter whether she was clad in a short denim skirt and a man’s work shirt, or outfitted in a pretty sundress that bared her silky shoulders and even sexier legs. She was five foot nine inches of curvy woman, one who knew what she wanted and was determined to get it.
Matt respected ambition. Strength of purpose. And iron will.
What he could have done without, besides her showing up here in that pathetic old white van, was her sass.
Jen Carson had a mouth on her that just would not quit.
To the point she was already getting under his skin.
And she had barely entered their lives.
Matt could only imagine what would transpire if Emmett got his way, and Jen was soon ensconced with him.
Matt worked to rein in his disdain. Nothing would be gained by him losing his cool. He needed to stay calm to outmaneuver this pretty little protégée.
He headed around to the passenger side of her van. “I’ll escort you to the ranch house, to meet my father.”
Long lashes fluttered briefly. “Wow, this is my lucky day.”
Matt moved the remains of a take-out lunch from Sonic, set them carefully on the floor and slid into the passenger seat. “Are you this rude to all your potential customers?”
Jen’s jaw set. “You’re not my customer.”
Nor was he ever likely to be.
Still…
He couldn’t say he minded looking at her.
Or inhaling her sweet womanly scent, a mixture of lilac, fragrant grass and summer air.
Jen discreetly tugged the hem of her dress down as she settled
