Claimed by Vicki Lewis Thompson

Chapter Fifteen

Josie had counted up the hours that she’d be forced into proximity with Jack so that she could mark them off in her head and be able to see an eventual end to her agony. The rehearsal Friday afternoon, on horseback, was over, and they were already into the rehearsal dinner at Spirits and Spurs, so she might only have another hour to deal with Jack tonight. The wedding and reception were hard to figure, but she was hoping for a maximum of five hours for that.

At least the reception would be at the ranch, and not here. She could escape once her maid of honor duties were over. She loved entertaining people, which was the reason she’d wanted this career in the first place, but Jack wasn’t just people. Jack was… the sexiest, most appealing man she’d ever met, and he was all wrong for her.

The tables in the bar had been arranged in a horseshoe pattern so that all members of the wedding party could see each other. At the top section sat Gabe and Morgan, along with their co-best men and co-maids of honor. Josie was on the end, with Jack to her right.

Morgan and Gabe occupied the two middle chairs, with Nick on the far end and Tyler, Morgan’s dark-haired sister, between Nick and Gabe. Josie had considered asking Morgan to change the way the best men and maids of honor matched up so that Josie was escorted by Nick and Tyler by Jack.

But asking for that would have alerted Morgan that all was not well. Josie didn’t want to do that, so she’d accepted Jack as her escort and pretended that being linked with him for the weekend was no big deal.

Of course it was driving her crazy, especially when she was close enough to feel his body heat, like now. Every available server had been called in for the private party and Tracy had the meal running smoothly. But Josie looked for any excuse to leave the table and check on things in the kitchen and behind the bar.

She couldn’t stay away long, however, or her absence would be noted. That meant spending long minutes within touching distance of Jack. During the course of the meal they’d accidentally brushed hands or bumped knees countless times. He was unfailingly polite and insisted on standing whenever she left and helping her into her chair when she returned.

Finally she’d had enough. She leaned toward him and spoke in a low voice. “You don’t have to do that.”

“Do what?” He glanced over at her. The men had left their hats on the rack near the door in deference to the occasion, so there was no hat brim shadowing the dark intensity of his eyes.

“Help me with my chair all the time. As the owner, I’ll be up and down a lot to keep tabs on the food and beverage service. It’s not your normal social situation.”

He held her gaze. “That’s true on many levels.”

Her stomach turned a few cartwheels. “I’m just saying that—”

“I know what you’re saying.” His voice wrapped around her, captivating her the way it always did. “You don’t want me to pay so much attention to you.”

Looking into his eyes she felt caressed, teased, aroused in ways she longed to suppress and couldn’t. “Yes. Exactly.”

“I wish to God I could help it, Josie.” With that he turned away and said something to Morgan, the bride-to-be, something that made her laugh.

Although she couldn’t make out what he was saying, the timbre of his words stroked every nerve in her body. Despite knowing, knowing! that he was bad for her, she wanted him more than ever. Taking a deep breath and a sip of water, she fought for composure.

She’d just made a trip to the kitchen, so she needed to stay put. The noise level was high and she tried to take satisfaction in that — lots of noise meant everyone was having a great time.

On the left side of the horseshoe, Sarah was deep in conversation with Bianca Spinelli, Morgan’s mother. Sarah’s silvery bob and western-cut pantsuit contrasted sharply with Bianca’s dark, untamed curls and her gaily colored peasant dress, but the two seemed to be getting along like old friends.

Bianca was a hundred percent Italian and proud of her generous curves. She’d kept Wednesday night’s bachelorette party humming with her “if you’ve got it, flaunt it” attitude. She’d taught everyone some sexy dance moves and expected her pupils to show off those moves at the reception on Saturday.

Morgan’s red-headed father, Seamus O’Connor, talked with the local minister, Ed Frye, who’d been asked to conduct the ceremony. Seamus was a hundred percent Irish and proud of his gift for blarney, or so his wife said. Neither Bianca nor Seamus had wanted to give up their treasured last names, and when the children came along, all seven of them, Bianca and Seamus had rejected hyphenation in favor of a hybrid for the kids — O’Connelli.

From talking with Morgan, Josie knew that growing up with these nonconformist parents hadn’t been easy. Vagabonds and counter-culture idealists, they’d traveled the country with their brood, never staying in one place for more than a few months. All the kids had names that could be male or female to avoid gender stereotyping, but it made for a lot of confusion as Josie tried to keep everybody straight.

Besides Tyler, two of Morgan’s siblings had made the trip to Wyoming — Tyler’s dark-haired twin brother Regan, and Cassidy, her fourteen-year-old carrot-top sister. They sat on the right side of the horseshoe with Alex, who was keeping them entertained, probably with stories about rock stars he’d met as a DJ.

“Your brother has acted pretty damned friendly toward me recently,” Jack said.

Josie turned to find him watching her. “He knows you’re not a threat to my happiness anymore.” If only she believed that. If only she’d held onto her heart when she’d told him goodbye.

His eyes glinted with an unreadable emotion. “I’m that dangerous?”

Yes. Still.She forced calmness into her voice. “Not anymore.”

He looked as if he might be about to say something, but a spoon tapping on a glass drew everyone’s attention.

Nick stood. “I want to thank everyone for being here tonight, and especially thank Bianca and Seamus for making the trip with Tyler, Regan and Cassidy. For never riding horses before, you did well at the rehearsal today.”

“Except when Tyler rode through the petunias,” said Cassidy.

Sarah waved a hand dismissively. “They’ll die with the first frost, anyway. Never mind about the flower bed, Tyler.”

“Mom’s right, Tyler,” Nick said. “You stayed on the horse. That’s all that’s important. So I just wanted to raise a glass and say, good job, everyone.”

Glasses clinked. Josie had only Jack to touch glasses with, and not doing so would look petty. She made the gesture, and their fingers brushed. Heat flashed through her.

“To you,” Jack said.

Not wanting to seem a coward, she met his gaze. “Thank you for teaching me to ride.”

“My pleasure.”

Her whole body tingled. Not good.

“The official toasts will happen tomorrow,” Nick said. “I know Josie and Tyler each have one, and Jack assures me he’s written his, so I—”

“Jack’s written a toast?” Gabe leaned around Morgan to stare at his older brother.

“Don’t get all excited, Gabe.” Jack tossed his napkin on the table. “I’m leaving all the sappy stuff to Nick.”

“That’s a relief,” his brother said with a grin. “I wouldn’t know how to act if you started getting all sentimental on us.”

Josie wanted to shout but he needs to get sentimental! She controlled the urge. The Chance family dynamics had been in place long before she came on the scene. All his life Jack had gotten away with shutting down his emotions. To expect anything different was a fool’s game, and she’d decided to stop being a fool. Now if she could stop loving Jack, she’d be aces.

Seamus O’Conner, Morgan’s father, rose to his feet. “I never write my toasts, but I’ll want to give one tomorrow.”

His wife rolled her eyes. “Now there’s a shocker.”

“In fact,” Seamus continued, “I wouldn’t mind having a word or two now.”

“Tomorrow would be so much better, Dad,” Morgan said. “Tonight we really don’t have time for—”

“Sure we do, Morgan.” Gabe, who’d had a fair share of wine, smiled at his future father-in-law. “Take it away, Seamus.”

Jack tilted his head toward Josie. “Suck up.”

“Mm-hm.” They used to have these private conversations back when they seemed to view the world in the same way.

“Five bucks says Morgan’s kicking him under the table.”

“No bet. Ten says Bianca’s kicking Seamus.”

“No bet there, either. How many minutes you give this toast?”

“Fifteen.” She wondered if he was aware that he’d slid his arm across the back of her chair.

“Five bucks on Bianca cutting him off at ten.”

“You’re on.” She shouldn’t have kept up the interchange and definitely shouldn’t have taken the bet. Old habits died hard.

As Seamus began what was obviously a rambling account of Morgan as a little girl, Josie glanced at her watch and settled back in her chair. Jack’s fingers curled ever so slightly around her upper arm. She should tell him to move his hand. But the feather touch was so heavenly, and harmless…

Maybe not so harmless. As Seamus droned on, Jack lazily rubbed his fingertips against her arm. She wore a silk blouse, so he wasn’t touching her bare skin, but the silk transmitted that caress in an increasingly erotic way.

Josie stared at her plate, where the food was mostly untouched. She gazed around the room and noticed Alex watching her. Looking away immediately, she tried to pretend that Jack’s touch was accidental, that it was something he wasn’t even aware of doing.

But she knew better. She knew him better. He was trying to get a reaction from her, and he was succeeding beautifully. Her body hummed and her panties grew moist. Visions of their naked bodies flashed with increasing frequency through her mind. Still Seamus talked.

“Jack,” she murmured.

“Six minutes and counting.” He kept his attention on Seamus. “Mark my words, Bianca’s ready to blow.”

She took a breath, then another. “What are you doing?”

“Taking advantage of a golden opportunity.” He drew lazy circles on her arm.

“Jack, please.”

His grip tightened imperceptibly. “Please, what?”

Please don’t stop. Please make love to me until all the reasons why we can’t be together are burned away. “Please stop.”

He did. When he moved his arm and sat back in his chair, she wanted to weep.

“Seamus, for God’s sake, wind it up.” Bianca said. “We have a big day tomorrow, and we all need to go home and go to bed.”

“Then I’ll end by raising a glass to this fine company.” Seamus lifted the tankard he’d brought along with him for good luck. “And to the happy couple, Morgan and Gabriel. May good luck follow you all your days.”

Everyone echoed the sentiment, and once again, Josie was forced to click glasses with Jack. She tried to regain their light mood. “Ten minutes, on the dot. You win.”

A soft smile flashed and was gone. “Depends on how you look at it.” Setting down his glass, he pushed back his chair. “You can pay me tomorrow.”

She wanted to shake him until his teeth rattled. He’d seriously hoped that his animal magnetism, which he had in spades, would make her forget that he would gladly give his body, but not his heart. He would never know that his plan had almost worked.

* * *

Jack didn’t make the decision until hours before the wedding. He wasn’t even sure why he was doing this, except it felt right and he was going with his gut. Bandit would stay in his stall for the ceremony and Jack would ride the brown and white filly his dad had been transporting the day of his death.

Bertha Mae would be up to it. He’d worked with her during the past week, and when Josie had cut out on him, he’d devoted even more time to Bertha Mae. The filly was a sweetheart and Jack thought it was high time for her to become an official part of the Last Chance. She’d been ostracized long enough.

But he decided the family members needed to know about it.

Gabe was in the barn helping Emmett weave ribbons through the manes and tails of the horses he and Morgan would ride in the ceremony. He barely looked up when Jack announced his plan to ride Bertha Mae. “That’s fine,” he said.

Emmett did look up and squinted at Jack. “I’m not sure it’s the best idea you’ve ever had.”

“Maybe not, but I want to do it, unless somebody’s going to have a fit.”

“Not me,” Gabe said. “But Emmett’s right. Ask Nick and Mom before you go doing something like that.”

“That was my plan.” Jack headed up to the house and met Nick coming out the front door. “Just the man I want to talk to. How would you feel about me riding Bertha Mae in the ceremony instead of Bandit?”

Nick blinked. “Why?”

“I’m not sure I can explain that. It’s just that her presence here has been like this sore spot that won’t heal, and so this past week I’ve been working with her. She’s a great horse, and I… I think this is the perfect time for her to become part of things.”

Nick tilted his hat back with his thumb. “Anybody else know about this?”

“Gabe said it’s fine. Emmett wanted me to check with you and Sarah.”

Nick gazed at him quietly. “It’s something you need to do, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, I think so. But I’ll reconsider if you—”

“No, I’m not going to stand in your way on this. But I have no idea what Mom will say. It might be tough on her. Or maybe not.” Nick rubbed his chin. “She’s probably thought about that horse plenty, herself. Go ask her. She’s in the kitchen with Pam and Mary Lou.”

“Thanks.” Jack started up the steps to the porch.

“For what it’s worth,” Nick called after him, “the more I think about it, the better I like the idea.”

Jack paused to glance back at Nick, who was smiling. “That’s good.”

“It’s the sort of thing Dad would have done,” Nick said, “giving that filly a chance to be useful again instead of shutting her away. The man hated waste.”

“I hope Sarah thinks so, too. I’ll let you know.” Then he turned and went into the cool interior of the house.

The kitchen wasn’t cool, though. Pam from the Bunk and Grub had pitched in to help Mary Lou with the food for the reception. The event would be held in the meadow, where a company from Jackson had erected a large wooden platform covered by a canopy. The food Mary Lou, Pam, and Sarah fixed this morning would be trucked out to the platform by some of the hands once the wedding party rode back in.

The three women bustled from counter to counter, stacking trays of food and carrying them to the walk-in cold storage that Sarah had insisted on having when the kitchen was remodeled. Jack hated to interrupt, but the whole day would be nuts, so better now than later.

“Sarah?”

She turned, a spoon in one hand. “Hi, Jack. Are you hungry? There are some—”

“No, I’m fine, thanks. But could I talk to you for a minute?”

She gave him a puzzled glance and put the spoon back in the bowl of chicken salad she’d been mixing. “Sure.”

Jack realized he didn’t often ask to speak privately with her. Not hardly at all. And lately, never. Nick and Gabe both talked with her, but not him. No wonder she’d looked at him funny.

“Let’s go out on the back porch.” Sarah dried her hands on a towel and led the way out the back door of the kitchen to a little porch with two rattan chairs on it. Mary Lou liked to sit there in nice weather when she took a break, and sometimes she and Sarah would have morning coffee out there.

Mary Lou kept a small kitchen garden out here, along with a little flower bed the bees loved. In summer the back porch always smelled terrific between the flowers and the food cooking.

But it had been fall, and too cold to enjoy the porch, the last time Jack had been out here. Only a couple of weeks after his dad had been killed, he’d been looking for Sarah to ask her about some detail in the ranch ledgers. He’d found her out here, crying.

And he’d done a piss-poor job of comforting her, too. He should have crouched down and wrapped her in his arms, but instead he’d stood by her chair and patted her shoulder. She stopped crying pretty quickly, and now he wondered if she’d done that for his sake, knowing he was uncomfortable with her tears.

“Have a seat.” His stepmother took the far chair and gestured to the one nearest the door. “Mm, it’s nice to sit down for a minute. Thanks for the excuse.”

“Maybe we should have hired a caterer.”

“Nah.” She smiled. “Pam was dying to get in here and help with the food. Gives her an excuse to hang around the ranch and bump into Emmett. Plus I think Mary Lou would have been highly insulted if we’d brought someone else into her kitchen.” She gazed at him. “So what’s up?”

“I’ve checked with Nick and Gabe about this, and they seem to think it’s okay, but the final decision is up to you.”

“Jack, you are not pulling any pranks on Gabe and Morgan. I don’t want you painting stuff on his truck or tying things to the bumper, and that’s final.”

Jack had been so preoccupied with Josie that he’d forgotten that weddings were prime time for all kinds of pranks. “Okay, no painting and no stuff tied to the bumper.” He wondered what else he could reasonably expect to get away with.

“I mean it, Jack.” She tried to look stern, but her blue eyes sparkled with laughter. “If that’s what you came to ask about, the answer is no.”

“That isn’t what I wanted to ask you. I wondered if you would have a problem with me riding Bertha Mae in the ceremony today.”

The sparkle faded from her eyes and they grew soft, then watery. A single tear escaped, but Sarah whisked it away at once. “Sure. Why not?” She sniffed.

Jack was dismayed. “I’m sorry. Forget it. I’m a complete bonehead. I should have realized that you—”

“No, no. I want you to. I think it’s a great idea.” She dug in her apron pocket and pulled out a tissue. “Don’t mind me.” She blew her nose.

“It’s not a great idea if it upsets you. This is supposed to be a happy day for you, and I don’t want to cause you pain.” Josie’s words ran through his mind. Josie thought he was causing Sarah pain every time he used her first name instead of calling her Mom. Was he?

She looked at him, her expression resolute. “It is a great idea, exactly the way your father would have handled the situation. Make a grand gesture, lance that wound and move on. I’ve… I’ve gone down to see her quite a bit, you know.”

“Bertha Mae?” Jack was astounded. “You never said anything. I never saw you.”

“Oh, I made sure nobody ever saw me. Sometimes I’d go before dawn, or late at night. I’ve told her how hard it is for me, knowing that she’s alive and Jonathan is dead. She’s… she’s a good listener.” Sarah smiled weakly.

“Maybe so, but she’s not going to be in the ceremony. It’s too much.”

Sarah shook her head. “It’s exactly right. I’ve been wishing we could have some symbol of your father at the wedding. I thought Nick riding your dad’s horse Gold Rush would do the trick, but if you show up on Bertha Mae, that’s even better…” She drew a shaky breath. “And besides, I think it would do you a world of good.”

His chest tightened. “This isn’t about me.”

“Oh, it is. It’s about you, me, Gabe, and Nick.” She reached over and put her hand on his arm. “Do this, Jack. I’d be grateful.”

He took her hand and closed both of his around it. “I don’t want to make you cry.”

“Crying isn’t always a bad thing. Besides, all mothers cry at weddings. Nobody will think anything of it.”