“Story of my life,” I muttered. “The trial and error part. I still haven’t experienced the whole get-a-feel-for-it part yet.”
“Tomorrow’s another day,” she replied, focusing on the pancakes. “Dream big.”
I lifted my brows. Was that what I thought it was? A note of smartass in sweet Lily Walker’s vocab? I didn’t realize that characteristic ran in anyone in the family other than Jesse.
“Why don’t you pour the coffee?” Lily suggested. “Carefully.”
“No guarantees.” I made my way over to the coffee pot and hoped I didn’t spill hot coffee on some poor cowboy’s crotch.
In a minute’s time, the kitchen had filled up with more cowboys than I could count. The couple dozen pegs sticking out of the wall were almost all filled with different kinds and colors of cowboy hats. Apparently wearing your hat to Rose Walker’s table wasn’t tolerated. The guys milling about the room were as varied as their hats. Tall, short. Slim, stocky. Young, old. Light skinned, dark skinned. It was the most varied group of cowboys I’d ever seen.
Well, it was really the first group of cowboys I’d ever seen.
However, one characteristic joined them all together. They all drank coffee. And a lot of it. Before Rose and the girls had finished setting all the breakfast goods on the table, I’d gone through three full pots of coffee. I understood why Rose prepared a few gallons of it in advance.
Jesse introduced me to everyone as I milled my way around, and everyone greeted me with a tip of their head and some sort of greeting followed by ma’am. By the time everyone had full plates, I felt as comfortable as I could around a couple dozen ranch hands, and I knew that was thanks to Jesse and his easy introductions. He was a member of the club, and he saw to it I became one right off the bat.
It was nice to be included. It was nice to feel a part of something.
It was the first time I’d had that in a while.
“More coffee?” I asked, stopping behind Jesse. His cup was still half full.
He twisted in his seat, a smile already on his face. “Please,” he said, handing me his cup. My fingers grazed his when I took the cup, and if I’d ever felt a more intimate touch, I couldn’t recall it. God. One finger graze and my heart thrummed like it was about to take off.
As I poured, Jesse’s eyes shifted to mine and they didn’t look away. Mine didn’t either, or . . . they couldn’t. When Jesse Walker looked at me that way, it was all I could do to look back and stay upright.
“Coffee,” he said suddenly, glancing at his cup.
My eyebrows came together.
“Overflowing.” He smirked at the cup so I really couldn’t peel my eyes away.
A few chuckles sounded around us.
“Pooling on the floor.” When Jesse reached for his napkin, I finally caught up.
Gauging from the size of the puddle, coffee had been spilling over the side of the cup for longer than a second or two.
“Shit,” I said, righting the coffee pot immediately. Setting it on the table, I grabbed a stack of napkins before kneeling beside Jesse. “I mean . . . shoot.”
“Nah,” he said, wiping up the sea of coffee in one long sweep. “You mean shit. This is definitely a mess worthy of a shit, not a shoot.”
I smiled at the floor as I wiped up the last of the coffee. “At least it didn’t end up in your lap.”
“I’m counting my blessings as we speak.” His hair fell over his forehead, moving in ways that made me want to run my fingers through it as he continued to scrub the floor. His hair was really much too nice to stay hidden beneath a cowboy hat all day. “So . . . have you decided?”
“Decided on what?”
“If you’re going to let me take you out some time. You know, a date? Something other than kneeling on a floor and cleaning up coffee?” Jesse’s gaze stayed on the spot where the coffee had been. Almost like he was suddenly shy.
I cleared my throat and looked around. Everyone was too busy eating to pay us any attention. “Well, you didn’t really ask me,” I said. “And you haven’t really given me much time to think about what you didn’t really ask me.”
Jesse scooped up the wet napkins and tossed them into the garbage can at the end of the kitchen without standing. He inhaled a long breath before locking his eyes on mine. “Rowen Sterling,” he said, his voice strong, “can I take you on a date sometime?”
I knew I should try, but I couldn’t keep my face from lighting up. “I don’t know. Can you?” I teased.
He sighed. “May I? May I take you on a date sometime?”
“Because you don’t have a girlfriend—”
“Or a boyfriend. Or a cattlefriend,” he mumbled, giving me a look. Good. So he remembered my question.
“And because you’re kind of cute,” I continued, “and because you’re not afraid to get down and dirty,” I stared pointedly at where he kneeled beside me, “I promise I’ll think about going on a date with you. Sometime.”
If Jesse’s expression could get more relieved, I couldn’t envision it. “I’ve never been so excited for sometime.”
I heard the kitchen door open behind us, but I didn’t pay it any attention. That was, until a shiny, black pair of cowboy boots stepped right next to me.
“No need to get down on your hands and knees on my account.”
Jesse went rigid the instant he heard the guy’s voice. My eyes moved up those black boots, to his hub cap-sized silver belt buckle stamped with a man riding a bull, and ending on his black, felt hat. His skin was almost as fair as mine, and his eyes were so dark it was hard to distinguish the pupil from the iris. Lanky, dark, and sinister. That guy, minus the hick wear, was just my type.