She wanted to throw something at the door, but settled for a groan. Best not to damage the door, or her belongings. Jack wasn’t worthit.
I’m tired of him acting like he owns the world.
He may own a large part of this rural world in Nowhere, Texas, but not her half of this ranch. Now, making Jack Canyon realize that fact had jumped straight to the top of her priority list—right next to pulling her life together, finding her birth parents and learning how the hell to fry a freakingegg.
The soundof freshly cracked eggs hitting the hot frying pan made Lola suck in her breath, hoping this time they wouldn’t stick. Just in case, she reached for the bottle of Italian extra virgin olive oil and added some. The eggs soon bubbled in the pan. Yes. They wouldn’t burn. She’d reach her small yet attainable goal—first the eggs, then the world. Make it the rural world.
She glanced over her shoulder, but no one had witnessed her third attempt at cooking eggs on her first morning of country living. Rays of sunshine trespassed through the closed colonial-style blinds from the kitchen window. Either Jack hadn’t returned from his foray into town or he had already jetted somewhere.
Great. Better this way. She turned her attention to the pan and increased the heat level on the stove. Hmmm…maybe they can be over easy instead of scrambled eggs. Hey, as long as they are edible, who cares, right?
“Morning.” Jack’s deep voice sent a chill through her spine—an annoying reaction she wasn’t sure she would ever get used to. She gave him a once over and found him leaning against the threshold, cool and collected. With a nod, she turned her attention back to the pan, but somehow the image of the eggs turning too brown got out of focus and gave way to an abstract remoteness. Stubborn thoughts pounded in herhead.
Did he really find someone?Was that why he wanted the divorce so badly—enough to put up with her under the sameroof?
It doesn’t matter.It would be beyond dumb tocare.
His powerful footfalls into the kitchen pulled her from her thoughts, and she blinked. The smell of burned eggs entered her nostrils—the sound of them crackling against the non-stick fryingpan.
“Trouble?”
She scraped the sticky eggs off the pan and dumped them into the trash, holding a deep breath just for a second before letting it out in small gasps. Tomorrow they won’t burn, stick, or taste like burned plastic. “Just distracted.”
“Try using butter, next time,” he said. “I have a housekeeper, Consuelo, who comes over a few times aweek.”
She faced him. The thread of sweat moistening his forehead hinted he hadn’t just returned from a night out. He’d been working. Warm relief consumed her chest, and she almost picked up the pan and knocked her own head with it. Get real, Lola.
She leaned against the counter. “Good for you. Since we aren’t together anymore, and I can’t afford her yet, I don’t see how your housekeeper benefitsme.”
He studied her for a couple of seconds, and flickers of a darker blue surrounded his light-blue irises. “Whatever.” With a shrug, he reached toward the piled-high fruit bowl and grabbed a red, juicy apple. “Go get ready. Earl and I will show you around.” Jack crunched into the apple.
“Earl?” She dropped her arms to her sides.
“The foreman. You met him yesterday. He suggested we show you the farm since you and I co-own it so you’ll know what you’re getting yourself into. Since you wanna be the big bad ass cowgirl,” he said and took anotherbite.
“Sounds good to me. Be back in asec.”
“Be quick, it ain’t no Malibu cocktail party.”
Jerk. She sauntered out of the kitchen, swaying her hips lazily from one side to the other as if his request had gone over her head. But when he marched from view, she raced to the staircase and scurried to herroom.
Of course, he expected her to spend a good hour choosing what to wear, like when they’d been together. But she had to prove to him and herself she could do this. Fake it until you makeit.
Only fifteen minutes later, she followed the voices coming from the living room and went down the stairs, her black Alexander McQueen peep-toe booties thumping out each step. Jack and the man he talked to, the same one she’d met yesterday during the bull incident, both stopped talking and stared at her in a lingering silence.
She smoothed her hands over the black tank top and shorts, happy she’d kept her most practical clothes from her lavish LA wardrobe. “I’m ready,” she said when she reached the floor level.
Earl greeted her with a curious smile. “Ma’am, are you sure you’re goingto—”
Jack waved his employee off. “She’ll be fine, Earl. Let’sgo.”
“Have you worked for Jack long?” she asked Earl as he gestured for her to go outside.
“Too long.” Earl chortled. “But, ma’am, I can’t complain.”
Three big, muscular brown horses with shiny manes awaited them outside. Oh shit. Long reins tied them to the porch. Invisible droplets of fear trickled inside her, with each drop turning bigger and thicker. She struggled to push past the lump in her dry throat. “What’s goingon?”
“We thought horseback riding would help to give you the authentic country feel you want to offer your guests.” Jack helped Earl untie the animals and mounted one of them. “Plus, there are some areas harder to get to with big trucks.”
