Embracing Hope (Cowboys of Sagebrush Rose #5)

Chapter Five

Annoying and confusing.

These two words would adequately describe Isaac’s experience at Sagebrush Rose Ranch in only forty-eight hours.

A part of him ached to say fuck it and head back home. If CJ wanted the damn merger to go through then he should come here and deal with it. Yet, Isaac couldn’t do that to his brother. He needed to be at the farm doting on his wife, who was taking the loss of their child in a bad way. Isaac loved his sister-in-law. She’d always been good to CJ and kind to Isaac.

Readjusting his hat for the third time, he strode toward the barn where his wonderful hostess told him to meet her. The newly built construction was as remarkable as the rest of the ranch. Isaac had to admit that despite all the drama, everything seemed to be running as smoothly as a well-oiled machine. On one side of the structure was an enclosure with the grass worn down to dirt, and on the other side, more fencing contained the cows.

From every angle he looked, he saw a hand working. One was elbow-deep in a tractor cranking on the engine. Another group was on horseback and looked to be discussing an important plan for the day although by the look of their dirty clothing they’d already struggled with something. Further away, a cowboy worked with a horse in the arena, gently guiding the mare.

As far as the eye could see, the land belonged to Sagebrush Rose. Lush fields as green as the sun was yellow ran all the way to the fence that separated the mountain from the ranch. He appreciated the peace on the land—almost as peaceful as Marcum Livestock.

He heard the sloshing of muck boots and looked over his shoulder to find Hope approaching. A sharp stab of awareness struck him right in the center of his chest and pivoted straight for his balls. He felt like he’d been caught in her feminine snare. Usually, he could bury any desire for someone off limits, but Hope did something to his defenses. She looked stunning even in the red ballcap that shadowed half her face, the loose-fitting flannel tied at the waist showing off part of her stomach, and the close-fitting jeans that hugged every enticing curve, down to the tips of her dirty boots.

A sliver of a smile pushed up the corners of her lips. She slid up the bill of her hat, and looked up at him, her blue eyes catching the rays of the morning sunlight popping through the dew-misted trees.

“Good to see you are punctual,” she said.

“At least one of us is,” he said smartly.

She blinked at him and then checked her phone. “Dock me the ten minutes for being late.”

“I don’t pay your salary,” he said moodily.

“Exactly.”

He chuckled and hooked his thumbs into his front pockets. “Now that we have that established, what are we doing today? Brushing each other’s hair and making mud pies?”

She laid her hand on his arm, which caught him by surprise. “About our conversation yesterday. I’m sorry that…you know, what you told me about your brother and his wife’s loss.”

He looked down at her long fingers and short nails. A familiar zing ricocheted through his body. He wasn’t used to having someone showing him affection. He pretended to swat at a fly to remove her touch. “I wasn’t fishing for pity.”

“I don’t feel pity. I understand—”

He cut her off with a clipped, “How could you?”

She sighed as if understanding, yet she didn’t let it drop. “It is possible to feel compassion for someone even when we haven’t shared the same experiences.”

“I want to check out the barn,” he muttered, pulling up his wall, and stepped toward the building, leaving her alone. He’d woke up last night in a sweat, sitting on the edge of the bed sobbing. He didn’t like feeling out of control.

She caught up to him but she didn’t say a word as he pushed through the double sliding barn doors. He found the inside of the structure to be as pristine and modern as the outside.

“You must be our guest.”

He swung around to find who was speaking to him. A tall, lean man with silver threaded hair sticking out from underneath his dusty cowboy hat that had seen better days. He had a slight limp.

Isaac greeted him with a nod. “Isaac Marcum.”

The cowboy wiped his hands on a rag hanging out of his pocket and thrust his hand out, “Jinx Weathersby.”

Isaac recognized the name. “The cowboy who took the bull’s horns?”

Something flashed in the man’s eyes, like a memory he wished he could forget.

“The one and only. The important thing is, I lived to talk about it.” He stuffed the old, worn rag back into his pocket. “Mornin’, Hope.” He touched the brim of his hat.

“Morning, Jinx,” Hope responded.

“I hear you’re interested in how Sagebrush Rose operates,” Jinx said, his smile returned.

Isaac started to grab the container of tobacco pouches from his pocket but remembered he didn’t have one. The act was purely routine because he’d quit the habit when returning home. “I’m curious. Nice structure here.” He scanned the inside of the space, pleasantly surprised to find it developed.

“This is the newest building. You’ll find all the modern equipment here,” Jinx said, swiping his gaze from Isaac and onto Hope. “Need me to stick around?”

She shook her head, sending the ends of her hair over her shoulder. “Nah, it’s my job to play babysitter.”

Jinx shifted uncomfortably. “Then I’ll leave you to it. It was nice meeting you, Isaac.”

Alone now, Isaac swiveled on the heel of his boot and steadied his gaze on her. “Babysitter?”

“What else would you call it?” she said evenly.

“Well, because I’m not a baby, the term doesn’t seem fitting unless you’re offering me something to suckle.”

“Jesus!” she sputtered. “Do you always say what’s on your mind?’

“Pretty much. Do you always roll your eyes like a kid who didn’t get their way?” As if karma was visiting him, a fly buzzed around his head and had a partner. They seemed to enjoy pestering him.

“It’s a response to bullshit.”

“You are a smartass, aren’t you?” He swiped off his hat and ran the back of his knuckles over his sweaty brow. The day was a scorcher, or maybe this was a response to the woman who looked at him from under that ballcap like she had half a mind to skewer him.

She sized him up for an excruciating length of time, and then a smile, not one of humor or joy, puckered up those beautiful lips. The same lips he’d enjoyed kissing and wouldn’t mind getting another chance to do so. “Takes one to know one.”

“Touché.” He’d been called worse.

She jutted her chin for him to follow.

That was something else he didn’t mind. He didn’t have a problem watching that rhythmic sway of her hips and bottom that could only be described as fucking enticing in the tight-fitting jeans that cupped her ass cheeks.

She crossed into another part of the barn, obviously set up as a clinic with an exam table and shelves stocked with medications. The stalls were empty except for one where a massive cowboy examined a horse that Isaac was sure was worth more than the newly erected barn. He looked up as Isaac and Hope entered.

“Morning,” the man laid his stethoscope around his neck. “Hope said she wanted me to meet you.”

“This is our vet, Keller,” Hope positioned herself against the counter.

“Isaac Marcum.” He swung out his hand, and the cowboy gripped it before stepping back. “I’d like to shadow you one day if that’s possible. I’ve heard about your modern approach to livestock care. I want to take some things back to San Antonio with me.”

“So now the truth is revealed. He's here to gain all our secrets,” Hope said glibly.

The ridiculous words made Isaac look at her. They didn’t deserve a reply, but he wanted to squash the blunt remark. “If we merge, then I’d have access to the information anyway.”

“I’d be obliged to do that today, but unfortunately, my wife has an appointment, and if I don’t attend, she’ll tar and feather me. Hope can attest to that,” Keller said with a gentle laugh.

“Yeah, I definitely can attest to that statement.” Hope peeled off her hat and allowed her long blonde locks to cascade freely down her back.

Isaac felt like he’d been kicked in the chest by the horse in the stall that seemed to be watching Isaac in case he made a wrong move. Even the mare didn’t seem to appreciate his visit. He attempted to gain his poker face but failed to do it quickly enough because he caught the doctor’s knowing grin. Isaac didn’t like that the woman both infuriated and excited him.

Clearing his throat, he muttered, “I’ll be around for a while so we have time.”

“I’m always willing to share my knowledge.”

Hope pushed off the edge of the counter. “Let’s go grab the truck. The next part of the tour requires driving.”

Issac said goodbye to the doctor and stepped behind Hope, who seemed to be in a race to get to where she was heading. It's good that he had much longer legs and a faster stride because he caught up to her and took a space to her right. “I thought you wanted the merger?”

She didn’t even look at him. “To be perfectly frank, I don’t give a damn. Not everyone agrees.”

“That could be a problem.”

She stopped and faced him, her heated gaze burrowing into him. “You see, cowboy, we don’t have to agree. Daddy will do what he wants when he wants.” She took off walking again.

“If you and your sisters are planning to take over the ranch in the future, how will this affect the merger?” he said to her.

“I’m not in the will as of right now.”

He wondered if he heard right. “Pardon me?”

Once they reached the truck with a magnetic sign on the side that read Sagebrush Rose Ranch, she flicked her gaze at him. “I said I’m no longer in the will.” Then she opened the driver’s door and slid inside.

He climbed into the passenger seat of the work truck and was glad he had plenty of leg space. The cab was made for a big cowboy. Across the expanse of the seat, he watched her start the engine, which came roaring alive with a low rumble, and his gaze caught on her long legs. An image of them laying over his shoulders and his dick deep inside her sent a trigger through his body. He wouldn’t mind one bit exploring her flexibility again…and again.

She must have read his expression because her eyes narrowed. “No.”

“No what?” He jerked his attention to her face, but it wasn’t much safer. Even the shadow of the ballcap replaced on her head didn’t dull the shine in her eyes. Each time he’d brought her to orgasm, she’d looked straight at him with that look, one that made a man get hooked right quick.

“Has anyone ever told you wear your emotions on your sleeve?” She backed the truck up, and instead of heading toward the gravel lane, she went the opposite direction into a worn path in the grass.

“I think you have an imagination.” The tired old truck bounced noisily over the ruts in the field, and his head dang near hit the roof.

“Oh? So I was way off the mark? You don’t want a repeat of what we shared at the hotel room?” Her words had a tang about them.

“You’re right. I want nothing more than to rip those jeans off your body and sink myself inside you, but you’ve imagined it, too.”

Was it his “imagination” that she pressed on the gas and intentionally hit another rut? He bounced around the seat.

“There’s that ego again. I knew it wasn’t too far gone.”

“Maybe you should try missing those ruts,” he said evenly.

“You don’t like my driving?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it. I hate it.” He smirked.

She turned the wheel to the right and drove past several barns and a pasture full of sheep. She swerved around a flock of chickens pecking at grass. “We don’t cage our chickens. Only pasture-raised will do.”

“So you’re a chicken enthusiast? Interesting.”

“Every living thing deserves humane treatment.” She braked in front of a building that needed some repairs.

“What’s this?” He took a long look at the structure.

“Home sweet home…for you,” she said without cracking a smile. “After our discussion last night about the hands running amuck and your desire to speak to them, I thought what better way for you to observe them than to stay here with them.”

“The bunkhouse?”

“You aren’t afraid of associating with the hands, are you? After all, you did say you wanted to see the ins and outs of the ranch. What better way is there to learn everything you need to know?” She might not have cracked a smile but her eyes dazzled in silent laughter. “Don’t worry. I had one of the hands grab your bags from the guest room.”

He finally understood her intentions. She was testing his limits, clearly not any more interested in the merger than he was. “How thoughtful of you,” he said with a hint of sarcasm. Despite his irritation, he showed no visible displeasure at the idea of staying in the bunkhouse, barely better than a barn. He would probably prefer the barn over sharing space with the hands. During his military career, he had spent time in terrible accommodations. So, he knew he could sleep anywhere.

“Get settled in and I’ll catch up with you soon.”

“Peachy.”

She laughed. “Today is chili night for the hands. I hear that’s a very captivating night at the bunkhouse. That’s why we have the outhouse for extra in case it’s needed.” She pointed off into the distance at a port-a-potty.

He’d rather skip chili night. He knew precisely how a good pot of chili could make grown men act like children. “Fine.” He started to slam the door, but she caught him.

“Have fun.”

He slammed the door, and she drove away, kicking up dust in her wake.

Just as he imagined, the bunkhouse was a step above a barn. On the first step through the door, flutter he met the stench of body odor and stale whiskey. Hell, this wasn’t anything he wasn’t used to, but if he had a choice, this wouldn’t be his.

He scanned the makeshift counter in the kitchen loaded with empty pizza boxes and buckets of beer bottles like the boys hadn’t cleaned up after a party. Just beyond was a group of cowboys sitting at the high-top table. They’d all removed their attention from the poker game and skewered him in curiosity.

A large man with thick dark hair, broad shoulders, and a genuine smile said, “It looks like I’m no longer the new guy.”

“Sorry about your luck, Keifer, but he doesn’t belong here,” said the scrawny-looking man sitting at the head of the table. “I think you took a wrong turn, fella.”

“I was told my bag has already arrived,” Isaac said.

Another of the cowboys, a seasoned man with dark eyes and a rough expression, flicked a thumb through the air toward the hall. “Dropped it on your bed. The name’s Robbie.” He thrust out a welcoming hand, which Issac quickly obliged.

Isaac debated whether he should ask for names from the others, but he caught the hint that none of the men were worried about a warm welcome. They were already back to their game like he wasn’t even standing there.

“Nothing gets in between them and their game. They’re playing for money,” Robbie said. “Come on. I’ll show you around.”

Following the man, he pointed at a closed door. “Bathroom. Imagine your worst nightmares and you’ll understand what it’s like ‘round here with only one shitter. Next up, we have the lovely five-star sleeping accommodations.”

Isaac strode down the hallway, scanned the large room filled with twin-sized beds, and saw his bag on a bed near a window. He swiped up the bag and released it at the end of the bed, then dropped down on the thin mattress. He wasn’t sure what was worse. The springs that poked him in his back or the hand-sized stain on the white sheet. Again, he'd slept in far worse; it had just been a long time.

“I’ll leave you to it, fellow.” Robbie took his leave.

Isaac stretched out and pulled his hat over his face, closing his eyes. He could use a nap.

“You might have won the battle but you won’t win the war, Hope.”