Chapter 18

“So Jess and Cole live up above the spa there.” An hour later, Jasper pointed to a gorgeous log building covered with huge, westward-facing windows. “And Kyla and Decker are over that hill there in their own place. Lexi and Gunnar are on the property next door, and Lexi’s mom lives up on the hill there with another couple. Ma—whose name is Sara, but don’t call her that—lives here in the main lodge, of course. There are guest rooms in here, and the rest of the guests stay in the cabins down that pathway. Staff cabins are back in the woods beyond the barns.”

Emma sipped her wine and leaned on the railing of the huge porch, looking out over the most beautiful piece of property she’d ever seen. The storm had passed in a quick fury, and now the evening sunlight bathed everything in a golden, whispery light, and everywhere she looked, there were horses. They grazed on the hillside to her left, trotted around the paddocks by the stables, and if she squinted, she could see ten of them lined up on another ridge, heading out for an evening trail ride.

She inhaled deeply, drawing in a mixture of pine and hay and horses that she knew no candle company could ever reproduce, no matter how many experts they brought in. The whinnies and snorts of the horses close to the lodge mixed with the muted clanging of supper preparations from inside, and she found herself smiling at the coziness of it all.

“So what do you think?” Jasper nudged her elbow. “Can you picture vacationing here at the ranch?”

“Are you kidding? I want to live here.”

“It’s a common problem.” He laughed. “You didn’t believe me.”

“Well, you’re sort of crazy in love with everything here in Carefree. It’s a little hard to sort sometimes.”

“Maybe. But have I steered you wrong yet?”

“Nope.” She sipped her wine. “Wait. Yes. You told me Horace was a good cook.”

“Did not.”

“Did, too. My first day.”

Jasper smiled. “Just didn’t want you to fire the poor guy. We didn’t know you weren’t armed with pink slips.”

“I’m not firing anybody, but please. I beg you. Teach that man to cook.”

“Hey! You two out there!” A voice came from the kitchen window. “Come on in here and be useful!”

Jasper laughed. Under his breath, he muttered, “I knew standing here was a risk.”

“Who’s that?”

“Ma.” He put his arm around her shoulder and steered her toward the door, a move so natural, so without forethought, that Emma smiled to herself. “Guess we’re on kitchen duty.”

“I can’t cook.”

He opened the door for her. “Pretty sure there isn’t a woman out here who can, besides Ma. She’s familiar with the breed.”

They walked into an enormous great room, and Emma stopped dead as she saw the giant stone fireplace at one end, the cozy groupings of dark brown leather armchairs and couches, the Native American patterned rugs on the wide pine floor, and the wall of French doors that led to the porch where they’d just been standing.

“Holy cow. This place could be in Architectural Digest.”

“Nice, hm?”

“Nice doesn’t even begin to describe it. How does anyone leave here, after they’ve come?”

“I like her already.” A woman who looked to be in her seventies, despite the plaid shirt, jeans, and high ponytail, burst through the swinging doors that must lead to the kitchen, loaded down with a tray of plates and silverware.

Jasper stepped forward to take the tray. “Ma, this is Emma. She’s—”

“I know. You’re the one who’s in for Bette, right?”

“Right.” Emma reached out her hand, but Ma just shook her head and pulled her into a big hug.

“Thank you for making it so she doesn’t have to worry about her home while she’s recovering.”

“Oh! Thank you. I’m doing my best.”

“Well, you’ve got some big shoes to fill. But I’m sure you’re up to the task. Just don’t let Jasper here burn the place down before she gets back.”

Jasper looked up from the table, where he was already setting the plates. “That only happened once, and it was a defective firework, Ma. Not my fault.”

“Oh, my God, Jasper!” Emma felt her eyes go wide. “What happened?”

He continued setting, a smile on his face as he made his way around the table. “Nothing the fire department couldn’t handle. They were bored, anyway.”

Emma closed her eyes. “Please don’t make me have to call 9-1-1 while I’m here. That’s all I ask.”

“The only thing we lost that night was the old garden shed. The new one’s better, anyway.”

“You burned down a shed?”

“It was really more of an explosion sort of thing.” He shrugged like it was no big deal. “But hey. More entertaining than those stupid little sparklers Bette gave the residents, and all’s well that ends well.”

“You sound like Laura Ingalls Wilder—with firepower.”

He laughed. “It was a good night. They still talk about it, and I’ll have you know, at least five guys tried to get me to buy them fireworks last July.”

“They did not.”

Ma patted Emma’s shoulder. “They probably did. Bunch of old Neanderthals up there, looking for a good time.”

“No fireworks.” Emma pointed at Jasper. “I so mean that.”

He put up his hands, palms facing her. “I would never. And don’t do your friend’s teacher-look on me. I think that one stops working at about the third grade.”

Emma shook her head but couldn’t help smiling. “You kind of never grew up, did you?”

“Oh, I grew up just fine. I’m just figuring out how to grow back down now.”

He and Ma traded a look full of—Emma wasn’t sure what, really—and then Ma motioned her toward the kitchen.

“Come on, Emma. You come to Whisper Creek to eat, you gotta earn your dinner. It’s a rule.”

Emma cringed. “I’m not much of a coo—”

“Another one?” Ma turned around, eyes wide as she shook her head at Jasper. “Can one of you boys pick a woman who can help in the kitchen, one of these years?”

Jasper laughed. “Sorry. I’ll put it on the application.”

Emma shot him a look as she followed Ma through the swinging doors, but his only response was a cheeky wave as he grabbed the pile of silverware.

“You know how to peel potatoes?” Ma asked.

“I can manage potatoes, yes.” Emma set down her glass and washed her hands in the sink.

“All right, then. Here’s the compost bin, here’s the cutting board, and here’s the pot. Knives are in that drawer there, and be sure you use the real butter when you mash them. And a dash of cream with the milk.”

“Okay. Got it.” Emma nodded like of course she had this. Then she looked at the ten-pound bag of potatoes Ma had set near her feet. “How many of them do you want me to peel?”

“All of ’em.”

“All of them?”

Ma laughed. “We work up some big appetites around here, and we’ve got a lot of mouths at the table tonight. You’ll be surprised how fast those disappear. How many are you accustomed to cooking for?”

“Just me, usually.”

Ma smiled like that was the right answer, though Emma couldn’t imagine why. Then she sat down at the table with a pile of carrots about six inches high.

“So tell me about yourself. Looks like we’ll be here awhile.”

Half an hour later, Emma’s fingers were almost as sore as her thighs, but the potatoes were peeled, chopped, and in the pot. Ma had spent the last thirty minutes alternating between asking Emma questions and telling her stories about the people who lived here, or had come through at one time or another, then stayed.

“Wait till you meet Hayley. She came out here not knowing how to boil water, and now she’s married to Daniel, raising three girls, and running around the county tending to cows and horses and goats and whatever else people are raising.”

“Can she cook now?”

“Not really, no.” Ma laughed. “But she’s better than Shelby, who almost burned down the honeymoon cabin two summers ago.”

“Shelby Quinn?”

“That’s the one. Might have the pipes of an angel, but that woman shouldn’t be let within twenty feet of a kitchen.”

Emma laughed. “Sounds like I’m in good company.”

“Unless the three of you get stranded in the wild with nobody to cook for you, yes. Then you’ll be terrible company.”

“Hey, Ma?” A woman came thumping down a back stairway Emma hadn’t noticed. “Have you seen my phone?” She stopped short when she spotted Emma, then smiled broadly. “Oh! Hi! I’m Kyla.”

“This is Emma,” Ma said. “Jasper brought her out for dinner. And no, I haven’t seen your phone. You leave it down at the barn again?”

“Probably.” Kyla grabbed a carrot, then leaned against the counter next to where Emma was now snapping the ends off a bottomless bowl of green beans. “Has Jasper been behaving himself up there at Shady Acres?”

“So far, yes.” Emma smiled. “But I’m not holding my breath that it will continue for long. I’m sure it’s exhausting.”

Kyla laughed. “Bette made him promise not to cause you any trouble. He is the biggest pain in her neck, but she loves him dearly.”

“It’s kind of hard not to.”

Emma’s hands froze, and in the very, very loud silence that followed her words, she delivered a silent stream of curses. Now would be a really, really good time to tune up the old think-before-you-speak mechanism in her brain.

Kyla smiled, and Emma wished she could read the looks passing between her and Ma.

“Hey, Ma? Have you offered this poor girl a drink of water?” Kyla’s eyebrows hiked, and her tone made it super-clear there was a hidden meaning to her question.

“Why, no. But I should, shouldn’t I?”

“I think so.” Kyla studied Emma for a long moment, then reached out to squeeze her shoulder. “I really think so.”

“Not thirsty?” Jasper pointed to Emma’s full water glass at the table forty-five minutes later.

“Desperately.”

He cocked his head. “Is there something wrong with it?”

“I’m not sure, and I don’t dare find out.” She darted her eyes around the table, like she feared someone was trying to poison her, and he couldn’t help but laugh.

“What are you talking about?”

“There was a significant amount of attention given to whether or not Ma and Kyla should be offering me water, and I don’t understand it, and it was weird, and now I’m scared to drink it. That is all.”

He laughed out loud at the stricken expression on her face, while at the same time, he felt his gut squeeze with nerves. He knew about the water—everyone out here knew about the water. Recent legend—namely, Kyla, Hayley, Jess, Lexi, and Shelby—had it that when women visited Whisper Creek and drank the water, they fell hopelessly in love and never wanted to leave.

Hell, Shelby and her husband, Cooper, had even written a song about it.

“Listen.” He leaned close to her ear and didn’t miss Kyla and Jess noticing him doing so. “The only thing to fear about this water is that it apparently makes women out here fall in love with the cowboys.”

“Of course.”

“It’s true! Ask half of the women at this table.” He looked around. “Actually, ask most of them. They lived elsewhere, they came here, they drank the water, and then bam! Fell in love, got married, and here they are.”

“Horrors. Except for the cowboy part, of course.”

“Naturally.”

She laughed, then picked up the glass, swishing the water like you would a fine wine. Then she took a long drink of it, and he hated that he couldn’t stop himself from watching her throat, her lips, her eyes as she watched him.

Damn, she was adorable.

He wasn’t the only one noticing, either. From the guy who’d helped tack up her horse to the one who’d been filling water buckets back at the stable, men just seemed drawn to her, and it brought out a protective instinct he’d thought was maybe—well—dead.

Even as she sat at this table full of strangers, a little bit shy, he found himself wanting to pave the way for her with his friends…wanting to make her comfortable…wanting to make her happy.

He hadn’t felt that way about a woman in a long, long time.

He took a deep breath, watching how her eyes crinkled at the corners when she laughed at something Cole said.

Maybe he hadn’t actually felt this way about a woman…ever.