In the ranch house, Van found her brother and Daphne canoodling in the kitchen. “Okay, you two. Get a room.”
Daphne laughed and turned in Evan’s arms. He kept those arms firmly around her, linking his hands at her waist. “This is my house,” she said, “so technically we’ve gotallthe rooms.”
Van scoffed. “A likely excuse. What happened at the horse pasture?”
“Brian wasn’t paying close attention and the mare, Prudence, decided to mess with him. What can I say about Prudence? She’s a troublemaker. But she always causes problems in a conscientious kind of way. Today, she didn’t really stomp on Brian’s foot so much as put her hoof on it and press down.”
“Yikes!”
“He’s okay, bruised but otherwise unharmed. I sent him home with instructions to keep it elevated. He’ll use an ice pack on it and take it easy for a few days.”
Evan bent and nuzzled Daphne on the side of her neck. She giggled like a giddy schoolgirl.
Sometimes Van wanted to ask Daphne what she’d done with herrealbrother. Evan used to be a lot harder to get along with. He had trouble keeping assistants at Bronco Ghost Tours, he was so tough on them. Not anymore. He got along great with Callie now and he catered to Winona, giving her whatever she wanted for her fortune-telling project, always ready to help her change this or move that.
“Clearly you two could use some alone time,” she said to the lovebirds. “I’m out of here.”
“See you tomorrow,” Daphne called after her.
Van waved without looking back.
“Your mom’s marinating tri-tips,” coaxed Jameson’s dad.
It was ten minutes of six and Jameson hoped to get rid of the old man before Vanessa drove up. “Thanks, Dad. I’ve got steaks of my own to grill.”
“They’ll keep for a day or two. Come on over, have a beer with me and the boys.”
“Not tonight.”
Randall opened his mouth to keep trying, but the sound of tires crunching gravel had him turning to see who had just driven up.
Vanessa’s silver Forester sailed toward them. Jameson half expected her to drive right on by once she spotted his dad, but she turned into the driveway, after all.
Randall said, “Why, that’s Vanessa Cruise,” as she got out of the car, circled the front of it and approached the steps. She’d traded her studded snap-front shirt and dress boots for sandals and a silky purple top. In her hand she carried the hat she’d borrowed from Charity that day.
At Jameson’s feet, Slim wagged his tail and whined in eager greeting. “Stay,” Jameson commanded. The dog dropped to his haunches with another hopeful whimper.
“Hello, Mr. John,” said Vanessa. She looked a little worried. Jameson couldn’t blame her. His dad could so easily put it together that they had something going on. And not only that—the old man had spoken out against her when she won the Miss Bronco crown.
His dad whipped off his hat. “You call me Randall, you hear?” Even Jameson blinked in surprise when his dad said that. Randall sounded downright friendly. And then he glanced at Jameson and muttered, “Shut your mouth before the flies get in, son.” He turned to Vanessa again. Fiddling nervously with his hat brim, he said, “My daughter gave me a talking-to about your win last Friday. She says you are the chosen Miss Bronco and I need to respect that. After giving it some thought, I have realized that my little girl is right. I want to apologize for my rude behavior at the pageant and to congratulate you on winning that crown. Also, since the day you won, I’ve seen you in action—at the barbecue and the rodeo—and you are doing our town proud.”
Vanessa actually looked flustered. “Your daughter is very special.”
“She is indeed.”
“And thank you, Randall.”
He donned his hat again. “Are you looking for Charity?”
“Well, yes.” She gave the old man a big smile with maybe a touch of relief in it. After all, if his dad assumed that she’d come to see Charity, then she wouldn’t have to answer any uncomfortable questions about what else she might be doing here. “Charity’s been so great, helping me out, showing me the ropes. She lent me this hat to wear for the pet contest out at Happy Hearts, and I didn’t get it back to her before she left.”
“Truth is, my little girl is growing up. She’s always out with her friends these days. I’m guessing she won’t be home till later tonight—but I will be more than happy to give her that hat.”
“Would you? Thanks.”
Randall took the hat and wiggled his thick eyebrows at Jameson. “Tri-tips?”
“Thanks, Dad. Some other time.”
