What had I just been worried about?
“All right, you two. Rowen’s mom will be here any second, and I don’t want her to walk into the place and see you two lip-locked.” Rose grabbed the fruit bowl and attempted to give us both a maternal warning look. It didn’t really work because she capped her warning with a smile. “Let’s give her a few minutes before we tell her about you two. I don’t want her thinking the only thing you’ve been doing all summer is my son.”
Jesse coughed. My eyes bugged out.
Rose inspected our reaction for one moment before it clicked. She flushed and suddenly couldn’t make eye contact with either of us. “That came out wrong. All wrong.”
“You think, Mom?” Jesse teased, his voice a couple notes high.
She swatted his arm affectionately as she headed for the table. “You know what I meant.”
“I know what you meant, but you might not want to repeat those exact words when Rowen mom’s here,” Jesse said. “You know. In case she takes it the wrong way.”
“Since you’re so eager to hang out in the kitchen, why don’t you go mash those potatoes?” Rose settled the fruit salad on the table, then stood back to inspect the table. She’d really gone all out.
She’d cut a few mini-bouquets of flowers from her garden and arranged them in mason jars. She’d set out the country rose china set passed down from her mom and she had polished up the silverware set, too. We’d spent a good half of the day making dinner. After making a dinner of cold meatloaf sandwiches and potato salad for the guys and dropping it off at the bunkhouse, we’d slaved away making pie pastry, picking green beans, and peeling, coring, and slicing apples. The menu was simple country fare, but it had been created in the Walker kitchen, so it would be delicious, too.
“I love this new dress,” Jesse said, running his eyes down my body as he wandered over to the pot of potatoes. “Like really love it.” The inflection in his voice almost made me shiver in anticipation. How many hours until bedtime?
“I might have had a little help picking it out.” I shot him a smile as I went to the fridge to pull out some milk and butter. “I love that shirt of yours, too. Like really love it.”
Jesse lifted his arms and did a spin. “I might have had a little help picking it out.”
We’d gone into “town” shopping yesterday, and instead of picking out our own outfits, we decided to pick out each other’s. Since Jesse lived in his white tees, I found a plaid button-down shirt with those pearly looking snaps. I got it one size smaller than he typically wore for the added eye candy. I didn’t bother with picking out pants because Jesse’s everyday jeans could not be improved upon. That was a fact of life I’d come to accept. Add his boots, straw hat, and belt, and BOOM! He was every girl’s dream.
Once I’d grabbed the butter and milk, I headed over to where he was mashing away.
While I poured in the milk and dropped the stick of butter into the pot, he said, “No offense, Rowen, because this is one nice shirt, but I win in the picking clothes out for each other department. That dress is . . .” When Jesse’s eyes traveled back to me, his mashing came to a stop. The corners of his mouth lifted as he skimmed my body. “Well, that dress is something else. Something. Else.”
I glanced over at Rose before sneaking a quick kiss on his cheek. “You really do know how to pick out a dress. But don’t worry. I won’t tell anyone.”
“Thanks.” He laughed as he got back to mashing. “My reputation as the strapping, manly cowboy that I am would be forever tarnished.”
Jesse’s selection had surprised me. Although maybe it shouldn’t have. Instead of wandering the racks of one of the clothing stores specializing in western wear, Jesse had wandered into a funky consignment store. He claimed he got a contact high after being in there for only a half hour. He sifted through every last rack in the place before he found my dress. The dress.
It was a burgundy, no-frills dress that didn’t scream Look at me! Look at me! It was eery how Jesse had managed to find quite possibly the only dress in the history of dresses to blend both that punk, dark style I’d shown up in Willows Springs wearing with country flair. The dress was a little bipolar in the style department, but it worked.
I was pulling the salt down from the spice cabinet when the doorbell rang. I froze.
“They’re here!” Clementine announced from the living room.
Rose pulled her apron off. “Ready?” she asked, wrapping her arm around me like she knew I needed the support.
Would it matter if I answered honestly? I just nodded my head.
Jesse grabbed a towel to wipe his hands, but Rose put the masher he’d abandoned back in his hands. “Get those potatoes on the table,” she said. “Rowen and I can manage to open the door and escort a couple of guests inside the house by ourselves, I think.”
Without another word, Rose pulled me along.
Jesse’s eyebrows came together.
I’m okay, I mouthed. Really, I added when he didn’t look convinced.
He nodded once, then started mashing like a maniac.
From the sounds coming from the foyer, Clementine was struggling to get the door opened. Lily and Hyacinth rushed down the stairs, smoothing their hair and adjusting their shirts. Neil was just finishing up in the barn, and Rose had warned him if he wasn’t washed, presentable, and at the table by the time we sat down for dinner, he would sleep in the barn until winter.
Rose was one of the sweetest people out there, but I’d learned no one wanted to mess with her. The ranch hands listened to her better than they did Neil most of the time.
As we approached the door, I already felt Mom. I started worrying my eyebrow ring as I felt my steel gates and concrete walls begging to be raised. I felt my arms wanting to cross and my scowl wanting to form. I felt the little girl inside of me searching for the closest hiding spot.
Rose’s arm tightened around me, and then Lily moved up beside me. She gave me a reassuring smile and, just like that, I was back at Willow Springs. Safe. Loved. Trusted.
The doorbell went off again. I heard my mom’s drawn out sigh from the other side of the door.
Rose reached for the handle and pulled the door open.
There she was. Not a platinum strand of hair out of place. Not an article of clothing or accessory that wasn’t designer. Not a hint of a smile.
“Kate,” Rose greeted, opening her arms. “It’s been too darn long, and you look too darn good after twenty years.” When Rose’s arms wrapped around her, Mom went stiff as a board and her expression twisted as though the hug was almost painful.
After a moment, Mom forced something meant to be a smile and patted Rose’s back. “It’s amazing what a good surgeon and money can do these days to erase a couple of decades,” she said, practically breaking out of Rose’s hug.
“Well, the only good surgeons we have in these parts are the ones that work on animals,” Rose chuckled. “My beauty routine consists of a multi-vitamin and avoiding mirrors under overhead lighting.”
Mom inspected Rose with that fake smile I’d grown up with. When her eyes trailed down to Rose’s boots, I could tell it took everything inside of Mom to keep from cringing. For the millionth time that summer, I wondered what had brought those totally opposite people together in the first place. Or what had kept them connected, loosely as it might have been, for all of those years.
“And who are these lovely ladies?” Mom asked, moving on to the girls staggered around the door, after giving me a quick nod of acknowledgement.
“This is Lily, Hyacinth,” Rose motioned at each girl, “and the little one here is Clementine. Jesse’s in the kitchen finishing dinner, so you can meet him in a couple minutes.”
Mom nodded her acknowledgement at each girl, keeping the plastered-on smile in place as she inspected them like they were last season’s handbag.
Since she obviously wouldn’t make the first move, I beat down the urge to cross my arms and said, “Hey, Mom.”
“Rowen,” she said, the fake smile going faker. “I barely recognized you. It’s been so long since it hasn’t been dyed black, I’d forgotten what color your hair was.” Yeah, I’m sure forgetting the color of her only child’s hair was easy. “And, my oh my,”—her eyes skimmed down my dress to the boots Jesse had gotten me—“how lovely to see you in non-freak wear for once.” One wall went up before I knew it. “I don’t know how you managed it, Rose, but I owe you for showing my daughter the error of her fashion ways.”
Rose took a step back and hung her arm around my waist again. The small comfort in that brought me close to crying with relief. “I love Rowen’s sense of style. If I was younger and braver, I might sneak a couple things out of her dresser when she wasn’t looking.” Rose grinned over at me. “However, it’s better to keep as much skin covered by no-fuss clothing when you’re working on a ranch with a bunch of single men.”
Mom gave that shrill, choppy laugh of hers. “When Rowen’s concerned, it isn’t her virtue you need to worry about.”
Another wall went up and my arms crossed. I’d felt so strong, so sure of myself, just moments before she’d whisked through that door. She had me almost reverted back to that scared and confused girl I’d been weeks earlier.
Someone slid up beside me, grabbed my hand, and angled himself ever so slightly in front of me. “That’s a joke, right?” Jesse asked, making his greeting.
Mom’s eyes darted his way, and if a woman like her could get stars in her eyes, she got them. Her gaze drifted down his body in a way that made me feel territorial and icky all at once. “You can take it however you want.” She flashed her charming smile—which was also fake—and lifted her eyebrows.
Since Jesse didn’t look in the mood to make introductions, Rose stepped in. “Kate, this is my son Jesse.”
“Wonderful to meet you, Jesse.” Hearing her say his name made my stomach turn. Or was it the tone in which she said his name? Or was it the way her eyes dropped when she was done?
When she noticed my hand clasped in Jesse’s, Mom’s approving expression morphed into shock. “Oh, dear God. Rose, I am so sorry. If I had known Rowen would go after your boy, I would have never sent her here this summer.” Mom’s hand went to her chest and she shook her head. “I would have hoped she’d show better restraint when it came to hooking up with the son of one of my oldest and dearest friends.”
I didn’t need to hear anyone else talk about why I was all wrong for Jesse. I did enough of that on my own.
“Rowen didn’t pursue me,” Jesse said, his whole back going rigid. “I pursued her. And we are not ‘hooking up.’ We’re in love.”
“Oh, dear God,” Mom said again, practically cringing. “I am so, so sorry, Rose.”
Yeah, because a guy admitting he loved me was so much worse than one admitting he was just screwing me.