Page 36 of The Cowboy Takes A Bride

Marjory flung an arm around Meredith’sshoulder and side-hugged her. “You have us now. You’re a Shepard, and we Shepard’s love fiercely and loyally, laugh as much as we can, and fight just as often, too.”

“Sounds marvelous.” And it did.

At the back door Marjory stopped and stared at a dry patch of land, some unruly bushes, and frowned. Sprigs of grass were shooting up in patches, it’s haphazard care out of place on the well-maintained ranch.

“What did that used to be?” It was too close to the house to be the burned-out bunkhouse.

“My garden. Every year I planted fruits and vegetables. It was something for me. Something I enjoyed.” She shook her head sadly. “This year there has been no time.”

Meredith inspected the area, imagining it in rows of glorious produce, picturing herself helping. She needed a way to fill the day. Cooking and egg gathering weren’t going to be enough. Unsure if she was about to do the right thing but willing to try Meredith made an offer. “Can I give it a go? I know absolutely nothing, but if you tell me what to do, I think I might be able to manage it.”

Marjory beamed. “Do you really think so? If you can get them in the ground this week, we have a good shot of getting some goodies. I’ll be able to help when we move back.”

“I can’t make any promises. I know not the color of my thumbs.” For good measure, she wagged them.

Marjory laughed. “It’s better than nothing.”

They spent the afternoon in the kitchen, Meredith taking copious notes on both cooking and the garden. When Marjory left before the sun set, Meredith was overwhelmed in an exciting and invigorating way. She had something to do, and it was all of her own making. No one was forcing her and, yeah, she was helping others, like she did with the charities, only this time shewould see the impact. This time it was strictly because she wanted to help.

First order of business? The manager’s cabin. She made her way to the small log cabin to check it out. A quick inspection showed that a little hard work and elbow grease was all it needed to be comfortable and habitable. It was in remarkably good shape. She had an idea and couldn’t wait to tell Jace when he got home.

16

More heads lost. A certain percentage was expected every year, but he’d be damned if he hadn’t tried to get that number lower, and here it was higher. He and Tuck managed to move the herd from far out closer to Mr. Beasley’s land back toward the homestead. It wasn’t ideal, but action had to happen, and short of putting a man on them twenty-four seven, he had no other solution.

He’d laughed when Tuck suggested a GO-PRO to possibly capture what was happening, but in truth it wasn’t the worst idea.

On that note, he’d cut Tuck lose and had headed home himself, a new and wonderful mix of excitement and pleasure adding haste to his steps. Jace was used to working long days, because why not? What was there to do when the day ended? He'd come home, open a can of something, shower, and then fall into bed in preparation to start it all over again the following morning. Before his parents had moved into town for his dad’s therapy, he’d come home to them and an active house. He was now realizing how lonely it had been with them gone.

The porch light was on, as was the one in the front room. When he steered his horse to the barn and around the house, he could see the kitchen light was burning as well. Jace smiled. He was tempted to throw off the saddle and toss some hay to Pal, his horse, but the beast had worked hard and deserved better. Pal didn't care that Jace was having trouble delaying his own wants and needs.

Following a quick brush down and feeding, Jace made his way to the house. His Stetson off his head, bumping against his thigh, he tried to make his appearance less disheveled by raking his hair back with his hands. He and Tuck had rode hard today and, following a quick whiff of his shirt, smelled like it, too.

Once inside, he called out Meredith’s name.

“In the kitchen,” she called back.

“I need a shower. I’ll be right back.” He thundered up the stairs and took the quickest shower of his life. Apparently he was setting records with bathing these days. Soon he’d be wiping himself down with a rag and calling it good.

Downstairs, when he entered the kitchen, he found her bent over the oven taking something out and was immensely pleased he'd hurried so he hadn't missed this moment. He liked his woman a little thicker, but he found the curve of her ass very appealing.

“It smells good in here.” The island was set with two plates, a bowl of salad, and….

“Do I smell coffee?” He was pulled to the machine like a horseshoe to a magnet.

“Yes, it’s still good.” She stood, moved to the island, and slid the hot plate onto the surface. Her long hair was pulled back into a ponytail, her face pink from the oven heat. She was a knockout, looking like she belonged with her worn jeans and his flannel shirt took his breath away.

She caught him staring at her, and she looked down. “Oh, Iborrowed your shirt because I was working in your mom’s garden and got mine dirty. I hope—”

“It suits you.” He grinned.

She grinned back.

Instant hard-on. That’s how pathetic he was. It must be male DNA because he was raised by a woman who didn't tolerate gender profiling and stereotyping, but damn if he wasn’t all proud with a puffed-out chest to find a sexy woman in his kitchen, making dinner for him, wearing his shirt.

“I’m glad you're home. I have lots to share.” She gestured for him to sit.

And this woman was waiting for him. Hell, if he wasn't so hungry, he’d clear the island of its plates and take her on top of it. Her presence wielded that sort of power over him. Cripes, he needed another shower, a frigid one, or a distraction. He searched the room for something else to focus on and set his attention on the food.

---