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He was so lost in thought that the loud rap on the window almost caused him to pee his Wranglers. Even Tay-Tay released a startled yowl and dove under the seat. He looked at the side window where the noise had come from, but he didn’t see anyone. He had just started to think it had been an empty soda can or a tumbleweed that had blown into the truck when a gloved hand appeared and rapped on the window again.
He leaned over and rolled it down. “Hello?”
A snappish female voice drifted in. “Well, I’m certainly not going to talk to someone I can’t see.”
He opened his door and jumped down from the truck. He came around the front to see a little old woman in a wide-brimmed hat with a basket of wildflowers hooked over her arm. She wore scuffed roper boots, jeans with mud on the knees, and a shirt with two wild-eyed WWE wrestlers on the front.
He quickly took off his hat. “Sorry, ma’am. I didn’t mean any disrespect. You just took me by surprise.”
She stared at him from beneath the big brim. “And you think it’s respectful to come on people’s property and lurk around like some kind of criminal?”
He started to say he was lost, but for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to lie to a little old grandma. He figured this must be Mimi Holiday, Hank’s mama. “No, ma’am. I’ve just heard a lot about the Holiday Ranch and I wanted to see it for myself.”
He couldn’t see her eyes in the shadow of the big hat, especially with the evening sun behind her, but he could feel her intense gaze. He knew she was trying to figure out who he was and what he was doing there. Before he could introduce himself—and, no doubt, tick her off—she figured it out on her own.
“You’re that cocky cowboy my granddaughter told me about. The one who works for Corbin Whitlock.”
He had no doubt that Liberty had painted a dismal picture of him. “Not works exactly. We’re more friends.” He hated to lie to a grandma, but he also didn’t want to be run out of town on a rail. Which is exactly what would happen if the townsfolk discovered he was not only related to Corbin, but also owned a piece of the company kicking the Holidays off their ranch. He figured it would be better for everyone if he just pretended to be a harmless friend. “I’m not here to cause any trouble. Like I said, I just wanted to see the ranch.”
She hesitated for only a moment before she spoke. “Well, you can’t see it from clear out here. Follow me back to the house and I’ll give you a tour.”
“Thank you, ma’am, but after our meeting today, I’m not sure your granddaughter will welcome me.” That was an understatement.
“It’s my name on the deed of this ranch. If I say you’re welcome, you’re welcome. Now come on.” She waved a gloved hand and then headed across the pasture with her flower basket swinging at her side.
Jesse would have stopped her and made his excuses if he hadn’t been so stunned. Mimi Holiday owned the ranch? Not Hank? Did Corbin know that? Since he thoroughly read all contracts, he would have to. There was no way Hank could have gotten a loan using the ranch as collateral if his mother hadn’t signed off on it.
Corbin was taking a sweet little ol’ grandma’s home?
Jesse had straddled the line of what some folks would think was unscrupulous business behavior a few times in his life, but he had never kicked a grandma out of her house.
Nor could Jesse ignore a grandma’s wishes.
He got back in his truck and drove toward the house.
It was even homier up close . . . and decorated like a float in a Fourth of July parade. American flags lined the walkway. Red, white, and blue bunting hung along the eaves. And a star-spangled wreath hung on the door. As soon as Jesse got down from the truck, that door flew open and a big man with a shotgun stepped out.
“If you heard about me giving away my ranch to the first man to marry one of my daughters, you heard wrong.”
Jesse might have questioned that crazy statement if the gun hadn’t been pointed at him. He held up his hands. “I’m not here for one of your daughters. In fact, I’ll just be on my—”
“Stop pointing that gun, Hank William!” Mimi yelled as she came across the pasture. “He’s a guest. I invited him.”
Hank lowered the gun and turned to his mother. “Don’t tell me you’re trying to marry off another one of our girls, Mama. I think two getting married is quite enough.”
Mimi snorted. “Did you hear him? He’s not here for the girls. He’s a friend of Corbin Whitlock.”
The shotgun pointed at him again.
Shit.
“What in the world is going on?” A woman who was a shorter and older version of Liberty stepped out to the porch. Her daughter followed right behind.
That morning, Liberty had looked like a honky-tonk angel in the flirty dress and high-heeled boots. This evening, she looked like a country sweetheart in a western shirt knotted at her waist that showed off a peek of soft stomach and a pair of cut-off jean shorts that showed off mile-long legs. She was barefoot and her raven-black hair was put up into some kind of messy bun that Jesse had the urge to take down and mess even more. Her green eyes narrowed on him and once again all the air left his lungs.
“Jesse Cates.” The way she said his name wasn’t welcoming. Her voice held disgusted annoyance. So why did his heart start thumping like a bass drum in a high school marching band after a touchdown?
“Is that all you have to say, Libby Lou?” Mimi shook her head. “Where are youngins’ manners these day? Introduce everyone properly, Liberty Holiday. You’re not too old to get swats from your granny.”
