Betting on Texas. Amanda Renee

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      “Drive Miranda into town and pick up a mattress and box spring. I don’t want her sleeping on the hard floor. Lord knows it needs a good scrubbing. If you hurry, you can get to Mayfield’s before they close.”

      Mable bustled about the kitchen as she spoke, her feet moving as fast as her tongue. Jesse laughed. This was apparently normal to him. He seemed at home and relaxed as he watched the robust woman. Until the woman stopped in her tracks and glared at him.

      “Uh-oh.” Jesse groaned then scrambled for the door.

      “Now go on...git!”

      Mable chased them outside and down the porch stairs with a dish towel. Miranda yelped as they crossed the yard to her truck. She’d forgotten she was barefoot. Her blisters sure hadn’t.

      Her shoes were inside. She imagined the wrath she would incur if she went back in and asked for them. A few seconds later, the screen door swung wide and Mable tossed a pair of flip-flops down the stairs. Carefully, she slid her feet into them. As much as they hurt, she wasn’t about to let Jesse see her pain.

      “You didn’t have to do this.” Miranda nodded toward the kitchen. “I don’t know what to say.”

      “Forget it. It was my way of apologizing for the way I treated you earlier.”

      Miranda wasn’t quite sure if she should thank him or strangle him. A stranger just chased her out of her home and took over her kitchen.

      “Who is she, anyway?”

      “Mable’s been a family friend for as long as I can recall.” Jesse leaned on the truck fender. “She worked for the Carters before the accident. Lived in that cottage over there. Figured she could work here again since you’re going to need all the help you can get.”

      “Work for me? Look, I don’t know how much money you think I have, but—”

      “As long as she can live on Double Trouble, she’ll be happy with whatever you can pay. Her husband passed on a few years ago. He ran the cattle end of the business before they downsized it. They shared their final years together here. This place has sentimental value to her.”

      Miranda sensed a guilt trip coming on. “I’m sorry to hear that but—”

      “Word to the wise, sugar, don’t ever let Mable hear you say you feel sorry for her. She’ll tan your hide for sure.”

      “Oh, I didn’t mean—”

      “I know what you meant. It’s Mable who won’t.”

      Miranda felt all control over her ranch slip further away with each word out of her mouth.

      “Nice rig. Must have set you back a bit,” Jesse said, as he inspected the black quad cab pickup. “Not that it would matter much to you.”

      “What’s that supposed to mean?”

      “Nothing. Nothing at all.” Jesse jumped in the driver’s seat. “Toss me the keys.”

      “Thanks for the offer, but I can drive myself, without any help from you.”

      “You have no idea where you’re going,” Jesse said. “The center of town is nowhere near the interstate, which I assume is the way you came in. You’ll get lost on these back roads.”

      “If I can manage to get here all the way from D.C., I think I can handle a little trip into town. Just point me in the right direction.”

      “Suit yourself.” Jesse pointed toward the main road. “It’s that way.”

      An endless dirt road lay before the ranch. The same dirt road she drove down when she arrived. And she didn’t recall seeing any signs for a town ahead along the way.

      “Sure you don’t want me to tag along? I can help you try out those beds.” He winked, his intentions all too clear.

      “Let me get this straight.” Miranda smiled. “You don’t even like me, yet you’re offering to sleep with me?”

      “Honey, I don’t have to like you in order to bed you for the night.”

      Miranda ignored his comment as she climbed in the truck. She headed down the dusty road, in the opposite direction she had come earlier. She had grown accustomed to her new truck over the past few days. Anything beat the broken-down cracker box she’d driven for the past six years.

      After she passed three unmarked turnoffs, she decided to try her luck on the next one. It was next to impossible to tell which led to ranches and which ones were legitimate roads. Acres upon acres of pastures and crops lined the narrow lane, but there was no sign of a town.

      A few attempts down others brought her to an intersection identical to the one she’d passed a few miles before. Now she was lost.

      An hour later, she found herself in front of Double Trouble—no closer to town than she was before she left.

      “Shoot!”

      Miranda drove down the ranch drive, watching for signs of Jesse. The noise her tires made on top of the cattle guards made an unnoticed entrance highly unlikely. There was no way she was about to admit she’d never made it to town. He would enjoy it a little too much. She parked the truck and ran up the stairs. Mable would give her directions and she would try again tomorrow.

      Miranda threw open the screen door and smacked face-first into Jesse’s chest.

      “How was town, sugar?” He raised a brow as if to challenge her.

      “I...uh.” Miranda tried to sidestep the cowboy, but he braced his arms on either side of the doorjamb.

      “What was it you were saying?”

      Jesse’s wicked grin said it all. He knew.

      “So what?” Miranda pushed him aside and stormed into the kitchen. “So, I never made it into town.”

      “What? I didn’t hear you.”

      “I said I never made it to town!” Miranda shouted. “Are you deaf or just stupid?”

      Miranda swore she felt steam rise from her skin. In a matter of hours, Jesse learned the right buttons to push. In one day, he managed to infuriate her more than most men did in a lifetime.

      “My hearing’s fine, but you appear to be the stupid one,” he said as he strolled out the door. “Couldn’t even get your sorry self to town. Guess you’ll be sleeping on the floor tonight after all.”

      The screen door slammed in his wake.

      “Oh!” Miranda stomped her feet.

      “We’ll have none of that, dear.” Mable joined Miranda as they watched Jesse’s retreat to the foreman’s house. “Pay no mind to him. His feathers are still ruffled over this place.”

      “None of which was my fault,” Miranda added. “What’s his problem, anyway? He’s so angry and bitter.”

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