Sophia Sasson - First Comes Marriage

“Any words of advice?”

He grinned. “Yeah, give ’em hell!”

She laughed. It was a pleasant, tinkling sound, and for some reason he wanted to make her do it again.

“Well, thank you for giving me a room—the cottage is just what I need for the month.” She got a faraway look in her eye. “Do you own this ranch?” she asked suddenly.

“My father does. It’s been in my family for a long time, passed down four generations now.”

“So you grew up here, then?”

He nodded. “I was born right upstairs and spent my whole life here.”

“Must be nice to have roots.” Her voice had a sad longing in it.

“It’s what makes this my home.” Jake was surprised to hear his own voice catch. Home...this ranch is so much more than home.

“Is your father still alive?”

Jake shifted on his feet; Meera was too nosy. He didn’t like answering questions about his family. “Yes.”

“Does he live here?”

“No, he’s suffering from Alzheimer’s. He’s in a nursing home.”

“What about your mother?”

He focused on the cattle grazing in the fields outside the window. His mother was a topic he didn’t discuss, not even with himself.

“She doesn’t live here,” he said sharply, then turned away from her.

Meera stepped back. “I’m sorry—I was just trying to get to know you.”

“You’re renting a room at my ranch. We don’t need to be friends.”

She muttered something under her breath.

“What’s that, now?”

“Nothing. Do you have any tea?”

He pointed to the pot. “Try coffee—packs more of a punch.”

“It’s okay, I’ll pick some up in town today.”

“Good luck with that.” Mr. Cregg owned the only store in Hell’s Bells, and he was about to lose a major bet thanks to Meera.

She leaned against the counter, pressing a hand to her head, as if massaging a headache.

He sighed. She was all alone in a new place. The least he could do was to be nice and stop giving her a hard time about everything.

“I left you a plate of bacon, sausage and eggs.” He motioned toward the heaping plate on the counter.

She swallowed, and her nose twitched.

What now?

“Do you have any toast?”

He pointed to the bread box.

“I’ll just have that.”

He bristled. “I’m a pretty decent cook, you know, and the bacon and sausage are fresh from the ranch.”

“When you say ‘from the ranch’...what exactly do you mean?”

He looked at her quizzically. “I mean we raise the animals here.”

“And then slaughter them?”

“That’s what ranchers do.”

Her lips curved downward. “Well, that’s something to think about.”

Now she was rubbing her temples with both hands. He studied her carefully. “Out with it.”

“Out with what?”

“With whatever’s making you look like someone’s drilling your brain.”

“Oh, it’s just that...I’m a vegetarian.”

“What?”

“A vegetarian. I don’t eat meat or any product that requires killing a living—”

“I know what a vegetarian is. Look at you, all bones, it’s no wonder.”

“Please tell me you don’t raise cows here, to be killed.”

He looked at her in disbelief. “It’s a cattle ranch!” He motioned at the grazing cattle outside.

She grabbed the back of a seat. Her caffe-latte skin paled. He pulled a seat out, encouraging her to sit down, and she slumped into the chair. The last thing he needed was for the doctor to require medical attention. She muttered to herself.

“What is it?”

She began to say something, then closed her mouth.

“Oh, come on.”

“Well...just that... I was raised as a Hindu. We believe the cow is a sacred animal and hurting one, or being anywhere near where one is being tortured, may bring bad karma for an entire lifetime...and possibly the next several lives.”

You’ve got to be kidding me.

“You’re a doctor, right? You went to medical school? Where they teach you about the brain and science and how the universe works?”

She glared at him. “This isn’t about science. Even if you don’t believe in reincarnation, you’re raising a living organism for the sole purpose of killing it.”

“The animal provides us with food.”

“There is plenty of plant-based food for us to eat. We don’t need to live at the expense of another being.”

“The animals only exist because I bring them into the world for food.”

“And it’s wrong to create something just to destroy it. In my culture, the cow is sacred because it gives us milk...it gives us life. We call it gai mata, mother cow. For generations she has fed us, and the karma of killing her—”

“Cows are considered sacred because your ancestors used them to plough the fields and didn’t want people to kill them for meat in times of famine. It was a practical decision, not a spiritual one.”

She raised a perfectly shaped eyebrow.

“I would ask that you not mock my beliefs. I’m not asking you to stop cattle ranching, just explaining my reservations. I’ll see about finding some other accommodations in town today.”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

She blew out a sigh of frustration and buried her head in her hands.

Jake suppressed a smile. Why am I enjoying this? He studied the small hands cradling her head. She looked so fragile.

Wait... He went to the pantry and rummaged around. He knew he’d seen this. He handed her a box, and she looked at him gratefully. She opened it and took out a tea bag, reading the label. “Fertility tea?” she asked with amusement.

He swore under his breath. No good deed goes unpunished.

He shrugged. “It probably belongs to one of the ranch hands. I don’t ask questions,” he said quickly. It was Jolene’s tea. Why was Jolene drinking fertility tea?

“Well, I’ve got to get going,” he said. “There’s work to do.”

She nodded and stood up. “May I rummage in your cupboards for a cup and kettle?”

“Yeah, good luck with that.”

He didn’t miss her pursing her lips as she turned around, moving about his kitchen, opening cabinets. He absently noted that she was wearing flat-footed sandals with a strap that went up her delicate ankle and ended in a bow in the middle of her calf. Did all women wear shoes like that?

He rubbed the back of his neck. I should talk Marty into giving her a room at the inn. I don’t need trouble.

CHAPTER TWO

IT WAS A minor miracle she made it to town without crashing the car. She’d almost forgotten which side of the road to drive on. Meera pulled down the visor and studied her reflection, checking that her makeup was perfect. She adjusted the collar of her suit dress. She’d paired it with her favorite Jimmy Choo heels and a string of pearls. Her mother always said that dressing like a princess would make her feel like she could conquer the world. And Meera already had a plan to fix her situation. She would talk to Dr. Harper about how to handle the townspeople and convince Marty to give her a room. She couldn’t stay at a cattle ranch. And I don’t need to tolerate that rude cowboy.

She stepped out of the car and took in her surroundings. There was a barbershop with the quintessential blue-and-red-striped pole, a general grocer’s displaying a table of fruits and vegetables, the silver-walled Betsy’s Diner and a post office proudly displaying the American flag. The brick sidewalks were lined with pretty trees and flowering bushes. The air was slightly dewy and smelled of fresh-cut grass. A picture-perfect small town.

Meera lifted her face to let the sun shine on it. She liked warm weather; England was always too cold and India was too hot. If one dressed properly, this weather was just perfect. Perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad to spend the month here. She would much prefer New York, but it wasn’t that far away and she still had the month to herself. She would pack a lifetime of freedom into the next four weeks. Then she could go home fully content and lead the life that had been planned for her.