Chapter Six
Six
A confession? Frowning, Jesse tossed his Stetson onto the kitchen island, keeping his eyes firmly on Esme’s face and off the sight of her in jeggings and a long white button-down shirt.
Hey, wait, was that his?
He cleared his throat. “It’s okay that you took my shirt.”
She blinked uncomprehendingly for a moment. “Your shirt.” She looked down and tugged the hem. “It was in the laundry. I hope you don’t mind.”
“No need to confess about riffling through my clothes. And with luck, your suitcase will be here tonight…or tomorrow.” Would she be spending another night?
Not that it should matter. Not with his potential mates coming. Still, he selfishly craved more time.
Esme pursed her lips, her hand moving to the tall glass filled with ice and water. As she swirled the ice against the glass, he watched her grow more tense, her shoulders rising, her jaw clenching.
Her hand shook as she gripped her glass. “That’s not my confession. You asked about Amaryllis. She’s gone. As in left the property.”
Tilting her head, she gestured to the now-empty driveway.
Running a hand through his hair, he tried to make sense of what she was telling him. Had he offended the lady vet somehow? “Where’s she going? The Cozy Inn and the Cimarron Rose bed-and-breakfast are probably full with Christmas travelers.”
Esme opened her mouth as if to speak, then clamped it shut. He took a step toward her, looking for some clarity.
“She’s gone-gone. As in left town, not coming back.” Esme crossed her arms over her chest defensively. “She wasn’t right for you.”
He frowned, surprised and confused. “When I went outside, she seemed quite eager to get to know each other better over dinner. What made her change her mind?” When she didn’t answer right away, suspicion nipped at him. “Or should I ask who changed her mind? Esme?”
“That’s my confession.” She inhaled deeply, then blurted, “I let it slip that two other women are coming.”
Even from here, he could see the whites of her fingertips as she gripped her water glass.
He rocked back on his boot heels. “That shouldn’t have been a surprise to her, though. We both went through a matchmaker. Nothing’s exclusive until we decide to date.”
She couldn’t help but think again how her mother had married her father because it was a practical match that pleased her family. Maybe that had something to do with why she and her siblings had stayed single for so long.
“How very…progressive of you.” She nudged the salt grinder closer to the pepper mill.
“I take that to mean you’re a romantic, all about the hearts and flowers and being swept off your feet.”
“There’s no need to make fun of me. I’m very sorry I chased off your new girlfriend. Oops. Not girlfriend. Your potential wife.” She winced, resting her hand on his arm. “Wait, scratch that. I’m trying to apologize, not dig myself in deeper.”
That small touch sent sensations zinging through him. Her eyes widened with that same awareness he felt, the undeniable attraction.
Then realization dawned. Esme was jealous of the women being sent by the matchmaker, had likely even chased Amaryllis off. That gave him more of a kick than it should, especially when she’d made it clear she wasn’t looking for the same things as him in a relationship. Hadn’t she?
“So if you don’t want me seeing Amaryllis,” he mused, heat flaring over his skin at her nearness, “does that mean you want to take that kiss further?”
Her lips worked silently for a moment, color rising in her cheeks. Her chest rose and fell faster, the curves of her breasts enticing. His hands itched to explore.
“You’re egotistical.” She stepped back. Away from him? Or away from temptation?
He wasn’t going to let her off the hook that easily.
“And you like me.” The realization was satisfying as hell.
“You’re infuriating. And more importantly, you have two more women due here, when?” she asked with a challenge in her voice. She pointed to the window, at the cloudless sky.
“Tomorrow, most likely. The weather app on my phone showed that roads are starting to clear.” Esme would be able to leave. “They were supposed to come today, but they texted while I was finishing up in the barn to say they’re waiting, just to be safe.”
Her jaw dropped. “You scheduled all three women today? At once?”
“I told you Amaryllis already knew about the others. She’s a practical, down-to-earth woman.”
He needed practical. Stable.
Esme’s eyes fluttered closed, then opened again, sparking.
“Knowing about the other women is different than not caring. She had her hopes up, Jesse. You can mock romanticism all you want. It means something to some people, though. It clearly meant something to that woman who ran like hell from the prospect of being a party of some lineup of women for you to pick from.”
“What if I were a part of a lineup of men for her?”
“I would find that sad, too,” she said without hesitation.
“It doesn’t seem like you approve of matchmakers.”
She shook her head, her silken hair gliding over her shoulders. “You misunderstand. I have no problem with a matchmaker. I just think the way you’re going about it is…”
“Is what?” he asked, more curious than he should be about how this woman’s mind worked. “Spit it out.”
“Fine.” She braced her shoulders, her chin jutting. “I think it’s a recipe for disaster. For heartache. Whatever you want to call it—romantic or practical—it just doesn’t seem like something that will work long-term. Not that my opinion matters at all. It’s your life.”
Her criticism stung. He wanted a family of his own and put a lot of thought into how to approach this. And she just shot it all down in an instant as she stood in judgment of him. “You sure are being confrontational for a person who wants to persuade me your dad should lead that new chapter.”
“I’m emotional. I can’t make a spreadsheet of my feelings like you do.” She grabbed her empty glass and stalked to the sink. “But no worries from here on out. I’ll be sure the next two candidates hear only glowing things about you from me.”
She stormed across the kitchen and toward the main part of the house without another word, anger crackling off her. His eyes were drawn to the sway of her hips as she walked away. Even after she was gone, her fragrance lingered.
As did his thoughts of what would have happened if Esme had been on that list.
Even two hours later, Esme couldn’t believe what she’d said to Jesse. She was normally a calm professional. She was a middle-child peacemaker.
Not today, though.
She’d been hiding out here in her room since their argument, sitting in the middle of the bed and trying to make out a Christmas shopping list. A totally fruitless endeavor since her mind kept wandering back to their fight in the kitchen and how she’d wanted him to…
To what? She hugged the fat pillow, the high-thread-count cotton sensual against her skin.
Sighing, she had to admit the truth. She’d wanted Jesse to agree with her, then sweep her into his arms and kiss her until her knees melted.
The scent of something cooking, something fragrant and full of spices, teased her nose. She glanced at her clock and saw it was approaching suppertime. Would the time apart have hit the reset button for him as it had for her?
There was only one way to find out.
She tossed aside the pillow and slid off the bed, smoothing the shirt, his shirt that she’d pulled from the laundry. Her footfalls soft against the floor, she drew closer until she found Jesse standing at the dark stainless steel stove, stirring a pot of what looked like…
“Is that beef stew?” she asked, gripping and rubbing her wrist, a go-to gesture from when she had heated arguments with her sisters. A self-soothing gesture to calm herself. Not that Jesse knew that. But muscle memory was a powerful thing, and she needed all the smoothing-over vibes she could get.
He glanced back over his shoulder. “It is. Corn bread’s in the oven.”
“I would have thought you had staff to help you.”
After all, he had a bunkhouse for ranch hands, and he’d mentioned a foreman. But his house was huge and quiet.
He continued stirring, pausing for a moment to smell the deep notes of pepper billowing off the steam. “I do, but they clean and leave. It’s just me so they don’t need to come often. And I cook for myself.”
She stepped closer, dropping her grip on her wrist. “I’m sorry for what I said earlier. It’s your life. You know what you want. And that’s more than most people in the world.”
“Thank you. Apology accepted.”
“Does that mean I’m invited to supper?”
“I’m not going to starve you.” He tasted the stew and her mouth watered. For him. “My mechanic said he’ll get to your car in the morning for a better diagnostic. Unless you have family or friends you want to come get you now. If the rain gets much heavier, the roads could wash out even worse.”
Leave? So soon? Apparently, he still was angry, and she couldn’t blame him. “Are you asking me to go now? I’m not sure my family could get here safely. But I can still go. There must be lodging somewhere.”
“No, that’s not what I’m saying. Like I said before, I’m sure everything’s booked anyway, given it’s the Christmas season.” His mouth kicked up into a smile. “And you’re chasing women off my property who will need a place to stay since the rain picked up again.”
He leaned to pull the corn bread out of the oven, and she couldn’t help but check out his butt. No female with a pulse would be able to deny how fine it was, denim cupping the perfect curve in a way that made her long to touch.
She squeezed her hands into fists on the kitchen island.
“Woman,” she reminded him. “I’ve only chased off one woman.”
He chuckled softly. “The week is young, Esme.”
“It would help if you weren’t so funny.” Leaning against the cool granite countertop, she shook her head, taking in the subtle pull of his muscles as he stirred the stew.
“And it would help me if you weren’t so sexy smart,” he retorted.
“What does ‘sexy smart’ mean?”