“What makes you think she doesn’t like it?” Joe asked.
“It’s not that I know a lot of agents, but she just doesn’t seem the type. When I first met her she looked like a woman who is trying to fit in a man’s world.” He swept his hand over his clothes. “She wasn’t feminine at all. No makeup, her hair in a ponytail, and plain business suits, ugly shoes. I’m sure you get the picture.”
Joe arched an eyebrow. “But she looks feminine now.”
“Yeah,nowshe does, but not when she’s at work.”
“Maybe that’s the required uniform,” Joe reasoned.
“No. There are two other women in her unit, and they don’t dress like that. I just wondered if something happened in Whitney’s life that made her... I don’t know.” He shrugged. “It’s like she doesn’t want anyone to know how pretty she is.”
“Except you.” Joe grinned.
“I think she really wants to go back to that plain woman I met at the airport.”
Joe unhooked his canteen and sipped the water. “I think she’s the way she is because of her mother. Deborah was a beautiful woman with an ego problem. She always had to be the prettiest woman wherever we went. She had to be the one all the men looked at when she entered a room.” He screwed on the lid the canteen and hooked it back on the saddle. “When Whitney reached her tenth birthday, people were starting to notice how lovely she was. She has always had the most amazing hazel eyes I’ve ever seen.”
Zack nodded. He’d thought the same thing about her.
“Anyway,” Joe removed his hat and wiped the moisture off his forehead before placing the hat back on his head, “Deborah didn’t like that her daughter was receiving more attention. Whitney has wavy hair and sparkling eyes, and at the age of ten, she was noticed for being the adorable child.”
Zack scrunched his forehead. “Her own mother was jealous?”
Joe nodded. “Yes. After Deborah divorced me and took Whitney away from the ranch, I’d heard that Deborah dressed her daughter in plain clothes and pulled her hair back in a ponytail. Deborah did everything she could so that her daughter didn’t stand out.” He sighed. “Whitney didn’t date much, but in the last five years, the guys she’d dated have been idiots. They left her feeling worthless.”
Zack’s gut twisted, and anger built inside of him. He was ashamed of his own gender at this moment. Why did men think it was okay to treat women so badly? “That just breaks my heart. She really doesn’t know that she’s pretty.”
“But all of that is over now. She has you.” Joe leaned toward him and glowered. “Don’t you dare break her heart.”
Zack’s gut twisted even harder. How could he break her heart when he didn’t own it? He just hoped she didn’t break his. “I’ll hold onto her as tight as I can.”
The conversation ended when Joe kicked his horse into a run and headed toward a cow that wandered off in the wrong direction. Zack stayed behind, watching the rest of the herd. Of course, if something were to happen, he wouldn’t know what do to anyway. But this gave him a moment to think. Now that he knew why Whitney acted the way she did, what was he going to do about it?
* * * *
THE SCENT OF HOMEMADEbread filled the kitchen, and Whitney didn’t want to leave. Gladys had talked Whitney into helping her in the kitchen this morning, and at the moment, she realized what a great decision that had been. As she rolled the kneaded dough and set it in the loaf pans, nostalgic memories returned. There were no bad memories of living at the ranch. Between Joe and Gladys, Whitney was treated like the perfect child... a child that was loved unconditionally and completely accepted. It was the years afterward that she’d like to forget about.
Gladys wasn’t the only cook in the house, but when the ranch hands were not around, the other cooks were sent home. Today, however, there was Gladys and a middle-aged woman with blonde hair named Karen. Between the two older women being silly and cracking jokes, Whitney hadn’t laughed so much in her life. Well, at least since her mother divorced Joe.
Once the kitchen was cleaned, Gladys shooed Whitney out so that the two other women could start preparing dinner. Although she wanted to help, she decided she’d probably only get in their way.
She wandered through the house, one room at a time, recalling those wonderful years as a child. Some memories brought tears to her eyes, and others made her laugh. She finally made it upstairs to the attic. It surprised her that Joe had kept this room clean. It also surprised her that he hadn’t thrown out some of her childhood toys. Whenever her mother and Joe would get into a heated argument, Whitney would come up to the attic to stay in her make-believe world.
She moved to the dollhouse Joe had built just for her Barbies. Gingerly, she touched the roof of the house, which served as a cubby that held all the doll clothes and accessories. She glanced across the room to the corner by the window...
Whitney took a step closer and stopped. Her heart softened, and tears clouded her eyes. She’d learned to paint when she was eight years old, and by the time she was ten, she was pretty good at it. But once she and her mother left this house, her mother refused to allow Whitney to paint.
She smiled and walked to the canvas and easel. As she ran her hand over the white canvas, her mind pictured the few paintings she’d done. No wonder she’d fallen in love with the historic painters when she was in college. They shared the same love for art as she had.
The floor behind her creaked, and she jumped around. How long had Zack been here? Her heart pounded crazily, and the closer he walked toward her, the faster the rhythm accelerated.
The lighting wasn’t very good up here, but there was something in his eyes that tugged at her heart and made her throat turn dry. Why was he looking at her with so much emotion?
“Let me guess,” he said in a sweet voice that didn’t sound fake at all. “You painted when you were a little girl?”
“Yes.”
He stopped beside her and glanced at the canvas. “I think you should paint something while we’re here. It will take your mind off things.”
