Rebecca Zanetti: Against the Wall

Jake gave her a warning glance before stalking over and kissing her weathered cheek. His mother was truly a beautiful woman. Nearly a foot shorter than him, petite, and slender, she had passed on her black eyes as well as her straight, patrician bone structure, whereas he had inherited his broad frame from his father.

The braid through her gray hair deserved a tug, and Jake complied.

“Why are you picking on my granddaughter?” She smacked him on the arm.

“Because your granddaughter watched Sex and the City last week.”

“Oh my.” Loni Freeze grinned before turning to his urchin. “Why did you watch that?”

“To see the pretty clothes. And shoes. And the big city with the big stores and buildings.” Leila sighed.

Jake’s gut rolled at her words. “The city isn’t everything it’s cracked up to be, Leila.”

“Jake, all girls dream of big stores in pretty cities,” his mother chided.

“I’m well aware of that,” he replied grimly. And he was. He and Leila had lost too much due to the lure of the big city life.

His thoughts flashed to Sophie. Even her name screamed city girl. He couldn’t believe that he’d kissed her. What the hell had he been thinking? A slow grin ripped across his face. Damn it. He wanted to do it again.

“You have that look.” His mother’s eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

“What look?” he asked, all innocence.

“That look. The one you had right before riding that untamable stallion, Satan. Incidentally, does your arm still ache before a storm?”

“Hmmm.”

“The look you had when your brother dared you to jump off Smitty’s cliff into the lake.” His mother continued with a huff. “The look you had when—”

“All right. I know the look.” The grin deserted his face. “I don’t have it right now.”

His mother opened her mouth to speak, only to have Leila interrupt. “Where’s Grandpa Tom?”

“He’s mending fences in the south pasture. He’ll be back in time for lunch with you,” Loni assured her granddaughter.

“Mending fences?” Jake frowned. “Why didn’t he call?”

“Because”—Loni reached up to peck him on a cheek—“your stepfather is just like you. He doesn’t ask for help.”

“I ask for help.” Jake nodded toward his daughter.

“Humph,” Loni replied with a twinkle. “Shouldn’t you get going on your date?”

“It’s not a date.”

She shrugged. “I heard it’s a date.”

“Your father had better not be matchmaking, Mom.”

“I have no control over your grandfather .” A smile lit her pretty face. “Have you noticed that we never quite claim him?”

“I wonder why?” Jake glanced at his watch. “I have to get going—for my business meeting .” He emphasized the last two words before swooping down to kiss his daughter on the head.

His mother’s voice stopped him just as he reached the truck. “Maybe it’s time to date again.”

“Maybe,” he allowed with a cautious look at his suddenly curious daughter. “But not some city girl with Manolos. Whatever the hell those are.” His gaze narrowed at his mother, who had an arm around his child. The homestead sat strong and solid behind them. Happy whinnies cascaded out of the deep green paddocks to the south, while the scents from steers to pasture wafted around.

Dust, dirt, and nature commingled into a combination of home.

With a shake of his head, he tossed his black Stetson across the front seat and jumped into the truck to meet the woman he’d kissed. A woman who belonged on his dusty ranch as much as a stallion belonged on Park Avenue. But first, he had a stop to make.

He drove through town to the general store, dodging inside to make his purchase. Within fifteen minutes he was back in the truck heading toward the edge of town, wondering when his daughter had stopped watching cartoons. His thoughts still whirled when he wiped his black boots on the mat adorning Shiller’s B&B’s large porch, removed his hat, and knocked on the door.

Sophie opened it immediately, fresh and pretty in dark jeans, frilly white blouse, and a braid looking too similar to his mother’s.

“These are for you.” Jake handed her a large white box. Roses came in big white boxes, and he wondered belatedly if she’d be disappointed. They weren’t flowers.

Sophie stuttered in surprise as she accepted the box. She flipped open the lid and sighed out loud. “You brought me boots?” Her face wrinkled in confusion.

“Yeah. They’re not Manolos.” Jake shuffled his boots. “Plain old cowboy boots, and you’ll need them for your ride today.”

“They’re beautiful,” Sophie breathed out. Soft calfskin leather colored a creamy beige with a pointed toe. She hurried over to the wide porch swing covering one side of the wraparound porch and slipped off her tennis shoes.

“Dawnie picked them out. She had to guess at the size.” Thank goodness his sister had time between classes to help him out.

“They’re perfect,” Sophie said after yanking both boots up under her jeans. She stood, the boots giving her a couple inches in height. “But I can’t accept them.” Regret colored her words to reflect in her blue eyes.

Jake grinned. He couldn’t help it. What was it with women and shoes? Sophie looked like she was about to cry at giving up the boots.

“Montana law, ma’am.”

“Huh?”

“Montana law. A representative of the bar association, me , gives an associate boots, you , then state law dictates you have to keep them.”

“Really?” Sophie laughed and shook her head.

“Really,” Jake affirmed solemnly.

“No, Jake—”

“Please, Sophie? You’re probably used to more lavish gifts, but I really want you to have them.”

She looked in wonder at her pretty new boots. “I’m not used to gifts at all. Thank you. These are perfect.” She balanced up on her toes and back down like a graceful ballerina.

“You’re welcome,” he said thoughtfully. How odd. Why wasn’t she used to gifts? “I don’t suppose you know how to ride a horse?”

Sophie’s gaze flew to his face. Her partial-lesson the other day on his horse didn’t count. “Um, not exactly…”

Too soon, Sophie was giving it a try. “All right Mertyl, that’s right, slow and easy,” she crooned to the painted mare, her entire body tense and expecting to hit the ground. Eyes forward, Mertyl plodded ahead with a bored whinny. At least, it sounded like boredom.

Thick pine trees unfolded lush branches on either side of the dirt trail as a woodpecker beat a sharp staccato tune somewhere high up. Orange honeysuckle and thick huckleberry bushes fought for dominance throughout the trees, their sweet scents mixing with sharp pine. A cool breeze wafted through the sharp sunlight angling through branches and brought peace to the area.

They were truly alone.

Sophie fought to relax her muscles, butt, and thighs as she balanced. She couldn’t help but remember Jake’s hard thighs bracketing hers on the big black horse he rode again today. She studied his broad back as he maneuvered two tons of near-wild animal along the old trail easily, naturally.

Today he was all cowboy in faded jeans, black Stetson, and boots, his hair tied back at the nape. He was even bigger than she’d remembered. A dark gray shirt emphasized the breadth of a muscular chest that her body remembered well.

She grinned, and then her gaze softened as one of her new boots caught her eye. He’d bought her boots. Then she shook her head. He was a cowboy. A lawyer, no less. If that wasn’t bad enough, his main job was to prevent her from doing hers. She needed to remember they were opponents in a battle about to begin. A battle that could determine the rest of her career and save her uncle’s company. Boots or not.