“Yes.”
She figured he found such a thing amusing if the smile curving his lips was anything to go by. The last thing a cowboy would want after being in the saddle was a cup of tea. A cold beer was probably more to his liking but was the one thing she didn’t have in her refrigerator. “I’d understand if you’d rather not,” she said.
He chuckled. “A cup of tea is fine.”
“You sure?”
He chuckled again. “Yes, I’m positive.”
“All right then.” She opened the door and he followed her inside.
BESIDES THE FACT JASON thought she looked downright beautiful, Bella Bostwick smelled good, as well. He wished there was some way he could ignore the sudden warmth that flowed through his body from her scent streaming through his nostrils.
And then there was the way she was dressed. He had to admit that although she looked downright delectable in her jeans and silk blouse she also looked out of place in them. But as she walked gracefully in front of him, Jason thought that a man could endure a lot of sleepless nights dreaming about a Southern-belle backside shaped like hers.
“If you’ll have a seat, Jason, I’ll bring the tea right out.”
He stopped walking as he realized she must have a pot already made. “All right.”
He watched her walk into the kitchen, but instead of taking the seat like she’d offered, he kept standing as he glanced around taking in the changes she’d already made to the place. There were a lot of framed art pieces on the wall, a number of vases filled with flowers, throw rugs on the wood floor and fancy curtains attached to the windows. It was evident that a woman lived here. And she was some woman.
She hadn’t hesitated to get her back up when she’d assumed his visit here was less than what he’d told her. He figured Kenneth Bostwick, in addition to no telling how many others, probably hadn’t liked her decision not to sell her land and was giving her pure grief about it. He wouldn’t be one of those against her decision.
He continued to glance around the room, noting the changes. There were a lot of things that remained the same, like Herman’s favorite recliner, but she’d added a spiffy new sofa to go with it. It was just as well. The old one had seen better days. The old man had claimed he would be getting a new one this coming Christmas, not knowing when he’d said it he wouldn’t be around.
Jason drew in a deep breath remembering the last time he’d seen Herman Bostwick alive. It had been a month before he’d died. Jason had come to check on him and to ride Hercules. Jason was one of the few people who could do so mainly because he was the one Herman had let break in the horse.
He glanced down to study the patterns on the throw rug beneath his feet, thinking how unique looking they were when he heard her reenter the room. He looked up and a part of him wished he hadn’t. The short, medium-brown curls framing her face made her mahogany colored skin appear soft to the touch and perfect for her hazel eyes and high cheekbones.
There was a refinement about her, but he had a feeling she was a force to be reckoned with if she had to be. She’d proven that earlier when she’d assumed he was there to question her sanity about moving here. Maybe he should be questioning his own sanity for not convincing her to move on and return to where she came from. No matter her best intentions, she wasn’t cut out to be a rancher, not with her soft hands and manicured nails.
He believed there had to be some inner conflict driving her to try to run the ranch. He decided then and there that he would do whatever he could to help her succeed. And as she set the tea tray down on the table he knew at that moment she was someone he wanted to get to know better in the process.