“How did you end up at St. Anselm’s?”
He shrugged, though his heart still hurt from the loss, even after all these years. “My mother died.”
“What about your father?” Once again, sympathy flashed in her eyes, turning them more gray than blue. “Could he not have raised you?”
“I never knew him. He wasn’t part of my life.”
“I am sorry, Jake.”
“As I said, there’s no need to be sorry. I had a decent life.”
She couldn’t imagine not having a family. Even though her father had disowned her for leaving home to raise Regina’s children and run Montaña del Trueno, she still had the memories of her mother’s love. Victoria Miller had been a wonderful mother, full of wisdom and fun, though her life ended much too soon trying to give her husband the son he wanted. Neither she nor the baby boy survived childbirth.
“Are you all right?”
Evie blinked, startled, and forced her attention back to Jake. “Yes, I’m fine.”
“For a minute there, you looked like you were far away.”
There was concern in his voice and in his expression, and she smiled a little. “I was. Lost in memories, I suppose.”
“Good ones, I hope.”
“Some.”
He went back to brushing Spitfire, his slow movements mimicking hers.
His shirt was unbuttoned, allowing her to see the dark hair glistening on his chest. She stared at it, until she caught herself.What is wrong with me? I go from thinking about my mother to staring at his chest.She struggled to get control of her thoughts. “What did you do after you left St. Anselm’s? How did you support yourself?”
“Oh, a number of odd jobs. For a little while, I worked on a steamer, delivering supplies up and down the coast. The captain was a good man, but I’m not a sailor, that much was clear. I never got used to the constant movement of the ship. Or rather, I should say, my stomach never did.”
“I worked for a tailor for a number of years.” He glanced down at his shirt and his face took on a reddish hue, as if just now noticing that his shirt was open, the edges gaping wide. He quickly buttoned a few, enough to cover up his chest. “That’s where I developed an appreciation for fine clothes.” He started brushing Spitfire again, his movements causing the buttons to strain against the fabric, and it was all she could do to try to ignore the sight. In that moment, she wanted to smooth her fingers through that mat of fine hair still exposed at the collar of his shirt. Never before had such a thought come to her, not with a man who was still a stranger in so many ways, but the urge persisted. She blamed it on Marisol, who put the idea in her head to take this man as her lover.
In her life before Mr. Jake Hannigan’s appearance on her ranch, it never would have occurred to her to invite someone to her bed, not without being in love, like she had been with Tom. Now? The notion occurred to her too often for her own comfort.
“I cooked, bused tables and washed dishes in some of the finest restaurants in San Francisco, too. And for a time, I managed a small hotel.” He smiled, showing a dimple in his cheek. “I also joined the Army, but it wasn’t a good fit for me. Father O’Malley was right. I was too much of a maverick. I spent more time being reprimanded for not following orders than anything else.”
Evie forced her attention away from hair peeking through the collar of his shirt so she could listen to his words. She could just picture him, a much younger version of the man he was now, eking a living out of odd jobs, probably making just enough to cover his rent. She doubted he owned a home. Perhaps, he didn’t need to own one. Growing up as he had, perhaps that hadn’t been a priority. He didn’t seem to regret any of it.
“You never worked on a ranch?”
He shook his head. “Horses, if you want to know the truth, always made me a bit nervous. They’re powerful beasts. We had one at St. Anselm’s, but he wasn’t very friendly. The only one Redeemer seemed to like was Father O’Malley.”
“And yet, you’re so good with them.” And he was, which surprised, yet pleased her. Like Teddy, he seemed to be a natural when it came to the horses. “They seem to like you.”
“I’ve learned, in my short time here, so many things, but mostly that horses are fine, majestic creatures, deserving of our attention and gratitude. They no longer make me nervous. Spitfire here, despite her name, is very gentle, as is Clementine. Even Horatio is gentle, though I will admit to bribing him a bit with apples. In truth, I’ve grown quite fond of all of them, even the cowboys’ horses. Respect and gentleness go a long way whenit comes to them.” He stopped speaking and glanced upward toward the ceiling, listening to the gentle patter of raindrops falling on the roof. “Ah, it’s raining. I love it when it rains.”
“I do, too. There’s something so cleansing about rain. Like a fresh start, a new beginning.”
“Exactly.” He stopped brushing and stared at her, his warm amber eyes intense. “You said you grew up in San Francisco. How did you come to be here at Montaña del Trueno?”
“Regina.”
“Your sister, correct?”
“Yes.” She willed the lump in her throat to go away. Even after all these years, it was still difficult to talk about. The pain and circumstances of Gina’s passing still had the power to hurt her heart. She missed her every day. “She was ten years older than me and as kind and loving as you can imagine. I adored her.”
“What happened to her?”
