agreeing to take along an escort. She did have that .28 gauge shotgun that Judd had given her. She could take that with her when she rode fence, she supposed. Cash made sense. If a man wouldn’t hesitate to poison a helpless bull, he might not stop at trying to kill a young woman. Fortunately, the waitress came back with coffee and beer in time to divert him, and they waited until she left before they resumed their conversation.
“Do you want me to talk to Judd about the bull?” he asked.
She shook her head. “It won’t do any good. He makes up his mind, and that’s it.” She touched her cup and noticed that it was blazing hot. She pulled her fingers back. “He’s distracted lately, anyway. Those film people are coming this weekend, including the stars.” She glanced at him. “I guess everybody’s heard of Tippy Moore.”
“The Georgia Firefly,” he agreed. His face grew hard and his eyes were cold.
“Do you know her?” she asked, puzzled.
“I don’t like models,” he said, tossing back a swallow of beer.
She waited, not liking to pry, but his expression was disturbing.
He put the bottle down, saw the way she was looking at him, and chuckled. “You never push, do you? You just wait, and let people talk if they want to.”
She smiled self-consciously. “I guess so.”
He leaned back. “My mother died when I was about nine,” he mused. “I stayed with her in the hospital as long as they let me. My brothers were too young, and my father...” He hesitated. “My father,” he began again with loathing in his tone, “was absolutely smitten with another woman and couldn’t stay away from her. He used to taunt my mother with how young and beautiful his mistress was, how he was going to marry her the minute my mother was out of the way.
“She was ill for a long time, but after he began the affair, my mother gave up. When she died, he was too busy with his mistress to care. He only came to the hospital one time, to make arrangements for her body to be taken to the funeral home. His new woman was a minor-league model, twenty years his junior, and he was crazy for her. Three days after the funeral, he married her and brought her home with him.” He picked up the beer and took another long swallow. His eyes stared into space. “I’ve never hated a human being so much in my life, before or since.”
“It was too soon,” she guessed.
“It would always have been too soon,” he said flatly. “My stepmother threw out my mother’s things the minute she set foot in the house, all the photographs, all the handwork—she even sold my mother’s jewelry and laughed about it.” His eyes narrowed. “That same year, my father sent me off to military school. I never went back home, not even when he finally wised up, eight years too late, and tried to get me to come home again.”
Some men hated physical contact when they recounted painful episodes. But she slid her hand over Cash’s anyway, something she’d never have done with Judd. Grier glanced at her hand with a start, but after a few seconds, his fingers curled around it. They were strong fingers, short and blunt, with a grip that would have been painful if they’d contracted a centimeter more. She noticed that he wore no jewelry except for a complicated-looking silver metal watch on his left wrist. No rings.
“I lost my mother the year I graduated from high school,” she recalled. “I was older than you were, but it hurt just as much. But I had Judd, and Maude,” she added with a smile. “She came when I was just a baby, to help Mother, because she was so frail. Maude’s been like a second mama to me.”
“She’s a card,” he mused, turning her hand over to examine the tiny scars. “What do you do with your hands?” he asked curiously, noting short nails and cuts.
“Fix broken fences, mend tack, use calf pulls, get bitten by horses, climb trees...” she enumerated.
He chuckled. “Tomboy.”
“I’m not made for a mansion or a boardroom,” she said with a grin. “If women are really liberated, then I’m free to do anything I like. I like livestock and planting gardens and working around the ranch. I hate the idea of an office and a nine-to-five lifestyle. I’m a country girl. I wouldn’t mind being a cattle baroness, of course.”
“There’s nothing wrong with that.”
“Of course, I’m a full partner in the ranch,” she said thoughtfully. “And I keep the books and make decisions about breeding and diet and upgrades of equipment. When I get through this computer course, I’ll be able to rewrite spreadsheet programs and keep up with my breeding program better.”
“And Judd doesn’t mind giving you that authority?” he asked, puzzled.
She smiled curiously. “Why would he? I’m good at what I do, better than he is, and he knows it. Besides, I don’t have a clue about marketing. That’s his department. Oh, and he pays bills.” She grimaced. “I don’t mind keeping bank statements reconciled and doing projection figures, but I draw the line at writing checks.”
“I don’t like that, myself,” he had to admit. He chuckled. “I had you pictured as a nice little kid who went to school and let Judd do all the hard work.”
“Fat chance,” she scoffed. “No man’s supporting me while I sit back and read magazines and paint my fingernails. I’m a hands-on partner.”
“Judd never seemed like the sort of man who’d tolerate a female partner,” he murmured dryly.
“You don’t know him well, do you?” she asked, smiling. “He fought really hard to get women into the Jacobsville police force, and he won’t put up with men who denigrate the worth of women in business or law enforcement. Besides, he can cook and clean house better than I can. If he ever gets married for real and has kids, his wife will be lucky. He loves kids,” she added absently, hating the thought that he was determined to get an annulment the second she turned twenty-one, next month, and just about the time that Tippy Moore would be on hand.
“You look worried.”
She shrugged. “Tippy Moore is world-famous and beautiful,” she said without thinking. “Judd really perked up when they mentioned she was starring in this movie. He’s never been around women like that. He’s a minister’s son and rather unworldly and conventional in some ways.”
“You think she’ll captivate him.”
She met his gaze evenly. “I’m no beauty,” she said flatly. “I’m backwoodsy and I know computers and cattle, but I can’t compete with an internationally famous model who knows how to act seductive. She’ll draw men like flies, you watch.”
“Not me,” he said easily. “I’m immune.”
“Judd won’t be,” she said worriedly.
“Judd’s a grown man. He can take care of himself.” He was remembering, and not wanting to disillusion her by admitting, that Judd had very little trouble attracting beautiful women in the old days. The man was no Romeo, but he was handsome and confident and aggressively seductive with women he wanted. He was also successful. He didn’t mention that to Crissy. It would have crushed her. He wondered if she knew how much her feelings for Judd showed when she talked about him.
“I suppose he can,” she murmured. She
