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Even then, he’d been judgmental and condescending toward her, convinced everything she did was to make a spectacle of herself. Why would she have thought he’d changed just because he made her heart race faster now?
Thumbs flying over the screen, she typed:
Emma’s tasting for the reception is tonight at Crooked Elm. I hope you’ll join us.
And sent it before she could have time to regret it.
Seven
Standing outside the goat pen at Crooked Elm Ranch, Drake scratched the head of a floppy-eared Nubian in the hope of quieting her. The mottled brown-and-white animal had been bleating with urgency during the last half hour of the tasting Fleur had arranged for Emma. Drake had used the distracting calls as an excuse to let his sister make her selections for the reception menu.
Or maybe he’d just latched on to the first excuse he could think of to step away from the draw of their hostess.
While two other goats ambled over to greet him—both black and white—Drake felt his attention yanked back to the picnic table draped in a sunny yellow tablecloth, where Fleur reviewed wedding cake ideas on a tablet. She wore a white tank top and a pale green skirt printed with flowers that ended just above her knees. Her copper-colored hair was tied into a low ponytail with a sheer pink scarf. He’d spent half the tasting thinking about untying the fabric and teasing the ends over her skin.
But the other half of the time, he’d spent forcing himself to admit that not only had he misjudged her in the past, he’d also failed to recognize that she’d become a force to be reckoned with in her own right.
He’d been so sure she’d only rolled into town to serve her own ends by selling off the ranch to the highest bidder so she could count up her profit. Yet she’d surprised him by moving into the place for the summer and connecting with the residents of Catamount again. After seeing the effort she’d put into baking, he’d insisted Marta give her an outlet for her goods at Cowboy Kitchen. And he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed her talents. He’d heard from Emma that she’d booked small catering jobs with two of her friends—someone’s baby shower and a retirement party for a local farmer.
Yet until this evening, when he’d watched Fleur in sales mode going over the possibilities for Emma’s wedding foods, he hadn’t really acknowledged that she possessed far more drive and determination than he’d ever given her credit for. She’d achieved a lot in five years, and her skill for cooking came through in her discussion of preparation and presentation. She wasn’t catering just to make a buck. She was clearly passionate about it.
“They like you!” Fleur called over to him. She and Emma had both lifted their eyes from the tablet to watch him pet the three jostling goats. “This is the most content they’ve been since I got here.”
The remark brought to mind how long she’d been in town. What kind of job had she left behind in Dallas that she didn’t need to return yet?
“I’m not bad with animals,” he observed lightly, wishing for a moment that he possessed some of the same ease with people.
His brother, namely. But now he also wished he had a way to prove to Fleur that his sole purpose in life wasn’t just to give her a tough time. He didn’t want to be continually at odds with her. He simply found it convenient at the times when the thought of tasting her proved so all-consuming he didn’t know how else to handle it.
Before she could reply, Emma’s fiancé, Glen, arrived, jogging across the backyard in his cargoes and a polo with his ranch’s brand printed on the pocket, as if he’d only just finished up his work.
Leaving the goats to their own devices and giving time for Glen to be caught up on the wedding menu, Drake strolled the perimeter of the yard, where Fleur’s handiwork was evident. The last time he’d visited Antonia at Crooked Elm, the birdbath fountain had been caked in moss and the perennials surrounding it were a wild thicket. But the stonework had been cleaned, and the water feature restored so that it babbled softly. New plants mingled with old ones that had been thinned out and separated, a fresh layer of mulch protecting the soil.
Beyond the birdbath, a firepit had been raked clean and the rocks reset. The heavy wooden furniture surrounding it had been recently painted.
All of it made the setting for Fleur’s sales pitch that much more appealing. She’d set out tall candles surrounded by glass globes to protect them from the breeze, and as the daylight faded into early evening, the candlelight gave the yard a romantic vibe.
“Are you done working your Doctor Doolittle magic on the goats?” Fleur’s voice sounded just behind him, alerting him that she must have stepped away from the engaged couple for the moment. Perhaps she noticed him swiveling his attention back to his sister, because Fleur explained quickly, “I thought I’d give them some privacy to talk over my menu ideas. I don’t want your sister to feel obligated to accept my suggestions just because we’re friends or—for any reason.”
His gaze stuck on her silvery-gray eyes as she turned to him, and he wondered if she’d always been thoughtful, and he’d just been too stubborn to recognize it. He scraped a hand over his jaw, seized with the need to touch her again. He hadn’t forgotten how she’d felt tucked up against him in the saddle that day. How soft her skin had been when his thumb had brushed a bare patch at her waist.
“I was surprised you invited me tonight.” His voice had dipped an octave, his thoughts getting the better of him. “Especially after how we parted last time.”
He’d sniped at her to put distance between them, recognizing he was in danger of kissing her otherwise.
“I have a couple of things I hoped to discuss with you.” She peered over her shoulder to where Emma and Glen studied the tablet together, their heads close as they sat side by side at the picnic table. Then Fleur looked up at him again. “Privately. Would you be able to stay after Emma finishes up? I’m guessing Glen is already signing off on the food items she selected.”
His blood heated at the thought of being alone with Fleur, even though he knew she wouldn’t have anything remotely intimate in mind. Still, just being around her amped him up.
“That’s a safe bet.” Drake had noticed the two of them seemed like-minded in many ways. It was one of the reasons he’d given the guy his approval to ask for Emma’s hand. He took his role as head of the family seriously, and that meant ensuring his sister’s happiness. “And as long as Glen can drop Emma back at home, I’ll stay.”
Even though it was surely unwise. Even though he’d told himself it would only worsen his relationship with his brother to spend time with Colin’s former fiancée.
Fleur’s shoulders relaxed a fraction.
“Thank you.” Nodding, she seemed relieved at his quick agreement. As if she’d been worried he wouldn’t give her an audience. The idea made him feel like a heel. “I’ll just go see if they’re ready to wrap things up.”
Drake watched her walk away from him, his eyes drifting to the sway of her hips despite his best intentions.
