Chapter 13
13
J ace gave her a quick tour of the house, and following an awkward where-do-I-put-these moment with her bags, deposited them in what looked like a guest room. He then disappeared into the room next to hers, she assumed his, because he stepped out minutes later dressed in well-worn jeans that fit snugly over his back assets, a flannel shirt, a wool jacket in navy blue, and his grey Stetson. She’d nearly drooled openly. Instead, she leaned against the wall to steady her knees lest she jump him like the licentious woman she really was. Their time in the truck proved that.
He guided her to the kitchen. “Make yourself at home. Unpack, get settled, and eat anything. I’ll be back as soon as I can. The house is heated, but if it gets too cold, build a fire.” He hesitated. “Sound good?”
She turned away, embarrassed she didn’t know the first thing about making a fire, much less how to cook. “What about you eating? We left the food they gave us at the diner.”
Taking from the pantry a container of what looked to be beef jerky and some energy drinks, Jace held them up. “Don’t hold dinner for me. I’m real sorry about this.”
She moved behind the island and forced a smile. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.”
He arched a brow. “You sure?”
“Absolutely. I’m going to change out of this dress and snoop through your drawers.”
“All right then. Sounds like a plan. I’ll be back soon.” He nodded as if to reassure her, took one step backward, smiled again, then spun on his heel and bolted from the room.
Sticking to her words, she did as she told Jace and changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, It took less than ten minutes to unpack her bags. Downstairs she went through the pantry and fridge but decided on a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Meredith hadn’t so much as boiled water in her life, and standing in front of the six-burner range made her feel woefully out of her element. Would she be expected to cook? She supposed it couldn’t be all that hard. Maybe she’d ask Jace for Internet access and could look up some recipes.
The house was quiet with the exception of bugs outside calling on the night. She was a stranger in a strange home and land with nothing to do. She didn’t even have a book to read. She’d tried watching TV but was too restless, too distracted by her thoughts to focus.
Instead, she laid on the couch and thought of Jace.
She ran her hand over the areas that Jace had kissed, touching her lips and the top of her breast, remembering the heat, then scolding herself for being foolish about some kisses, lovely as they were. She and Jace had made a deal to play house, and it would do no good for her to get reality confused with fantasy. Even if the fantasy portion warmed her to her very center and gave her those intoxicating butterflies that made her giddy. Yes, heady stuff indeed were his kisses.
Her father had wanted her to connect with someone like Lyle Brady, a man so cold, ice shivered when he was nearby.
How could a father love his daughter so little to want that for her?
Meredith shook her head. At least she was here. She was getting a chance to figure everything out.
She explored the family home, walls covered with generations of Shepard’s working the land and going to rodeos, at weddings, and family get-togethers. All smiling, happy, with arms flung around each other’s. Sabrina was in a few.
It was stupid to be envious of her, but Meredith was. Not only because Jace had his arm flung across her shoulders and they were laughing, but because Sabrina had a life Meredith had only dreamed about. She was loved enough to be on someone’s wall along with baby pictures and awkward school photos.
All that had ended for Meredith when her mother died.
She touched the wood frames, wiped the beginnings of dust off a baby picture. She'd be stupid to deny she wanted this, a wall that showcased her life and showed love and laughter. But she would have to wait awhile before she opened herself up to the possibility of love and family. She reminded herself there was still time. She was just getting started and, sure, she might find all she wanted here at Three Peaks Ranch. Or she might not. What if she tried to make this place the solution and then his father passed and Jace asked her to leave? Meredith turned away from the wall. No. She shook her head. No. She would not sell this newly found freedom by forcing herself into a family position—all for security.
She would let things happen the way they were meant to.
The doubts ate at her, making sound reasoning hard. She was skewed and more vulnerable after what she and Jace had shared. At least she knew that much .
She moved to the picture window in the living room and pushed back the soft floral curtains. The house had a woman’s touch that Meredith found comforting, like the framed cross-stitched art on the wall, the runner over the buffet in the dining room, and similar cross-stitched pillows on the leather couch. It worked for her just like the view outside of the sun sinking behind the mountains did.
Her exploration of the house ended in a back room that looked to have been the family room but was now a bedroom. Going by the equipment, a bench, adjustable bed much like a hospital one, and the rack of clothes pushed to the corner, this was where his father slept. As comfortable as they’d tried to make it, there was no privacy. Feeling like a trespasser, she backed from the room.
Time passed at an agonizingly slow pace. She found a computer and took a chance that Jace wouldn’t mind if she used it. The speed was worse than dial up. Deciding she should try something, Meredith searched on how to start a fire, but found the instructions too intimidating. She didn’t know if the flue was open, and the off chance it was closed, it was April after all, was a risk she decided against. She imagined Jace coming home to a house of smoke of her doing. No way.
Instead she found a Jane Austen book in the study at the back of the house where the computer was. Clearly Jace’s study. His jacket over the chair, a coffee cup on the desk corner, and books and papers across the surface. Her gut told her this was where he spent his time when he was in the house. Unlike the immaculate house, this room looked lived in and the space felt private. Much like when she entered his father’s bedroom, she was left with a sense of not belonging. Not wanting to be caught there, she quickly grabbed the novel and scuttled out. Settling on the couch in the front room, she covered herself with a wool blanket and tried to relax. Tried to get lost in Mr. Darcy, but found her mind wandering to what transpired in the truck, and her attention was constantly drawn to the front window. At some point, around when the moon was at its highest, she fell asleep wondering what was keeping Jace.