The Texas Rancher's Vow. Cathy Gillen Thacker

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СКАЧАТЬ an ivy-covered retaining wall and the rest of the U-shaped, two-story house.

      When they reached a big open room, at the rear of the home, Jen looked around in awe, trying to take it all in. There was hundreds of thousands of dollars worth of art displayed, all of it set off by perfect lighting.

      Momentarily forgetting the family drama, she moved from one piece to another, studying them avidly.

      To her annoyance, Matt followed close behind her, as taut and on guard as his father was relaxed.

      Emmett sipped his water, watching them both. “You’ll have to forgive my son. He’s become ridiculously overprotective in his middle age.”

      Matt swung back around, his irritation apparent. “Only because I’ve needed to be,” he retorted in a low voice.

      Jen sucked in a breath, drawing in the sunshine-soap-and-leather scent of him.

      Nerves deep inside her quivered.

      Oblivious of her reaction, Emmett arched a brow in reproach. “We’ve both made mistakes when it comes to matrimony, Matt.”

      Both of them?

      Matt had indicated he wasn’t divorced.

      And if he wasn’t divorced…what was he?

      “It doesn’t mean there have to be any more,” Emmett continued sternly.

      Matt pinned Jen with his gaze. “I don’t want there to be.”

      Could you make it more obvious that you think I’m a threat? Jen wondered.

      “Nor do I.” Emmett stared at his son over the rim of his glass. “So unless you’d like to discuss this further…”

      Seeing an opening, Jen stepped between them.

      “What I’d really like to discuss is the reason I’m here.” Certain she had both men’s attention, she said sincerely, “This is an amazing collection.” She walked around, inspecting the shelves holding bronze statues and figurines, as well as the paintings on the walls. She turned and smiled at Emmett. “Whoever put it together has a very good eye.”

      He beamed with the enthusiasm of a true collector. “It was started by my grandfather. He was an early supporter of Remington, and countless others, and my father and I have continued the tradition.”

      “Well, y’all have done a wonderful job.” Jen moved from one to another. Some of the artists were famous, others more obscure, but each work on display was beautiful, detailed and original. “These are all pieces I would have picked.”

      She stopped, seeing one of her own first works, and for a second was speechless with surprise. She turned back to Emmett. “I didn’t know you had any of my sculptures.” Never mind this one.

      Emmett inched closer, still sipping his water. “It’s my favorite, to date.”

      Jen heard that a lot. The bronze sculpture depicted a small girl having her first horseback-riding lesson, while her doting mother stood nearby, holding the reins.

      “There’s a wistful, loving quality about it,” he murmured.

      Matt paused beside it, too. His guarded expression slipped just a tad.

      “Did you know your subjects well?” he asked, eyeing the bronze, then her. “It seems like a very emotional piece.”

      It was, but not for reasons either Briscoe would have assumed.

      Wishing he hadn’t noticed that, Jen acknowledged the unexpected compliment with a nod. She was way too aware of Matt’s physical presence, and turned away. So what if he had the kind of hot, powerful body no woman could ignore? He didn’t trust her, certainly didn’t respect her. And without that… There was no way she would let him draw her in.

      “I conjured this from my imagination,” she murmured in response to his question. Although she wished it had been real.

      Matt studied her, as if seeing beyond what she’d said to the yearning for family she felt inside.

      And maybe he did know, at least a little bit, she conceded. Emmett had said Matt’s mother had died years ago. Jen had lost hers, too.

      Being orphaned was hard at any age.

      But although Matt and she shared that experience, it wasn’t a bond she intended to pursue.

      Emmett looked from one to the other. He, too, knew there was more going on than what Jen said, but was kind enough to move on to safer territory. “You often work from photographs, don’t you?”

      Jen nodded. “Yes, I do. Particularly with commissioned works.”

      These days, she stayed far away from memory lane. Focusing only on the present. Never the past, nor the future.

      Inching closer, Matt said, “So you don’t need to see a subject in person to be able to do justice to his or her likeness.”

      She acknowledged that fact with another brief nod. Why not just show me the door now, Matt? “Although it helps to at least hear about the personality of the person I’m depicting.”

      “Well,” Emmett boomed, “no problem there.”

      No, indeed. His personality was very distinct, his ego strong.

      “Dad,” Matt interjected, clearly still worried his father was going to be taken advantage of, “are you sure you want to do this?”

      “I have to, son.” His voice was suddenly hoarse and unsteady. “Whether you understand or not.” Emmett cleared his throat and turned to Jen, all business once more. “So…here’s the deal. I want ten bronzes to start. All commemorating my life. And I’ll pay you triple your normal rate—on the condition you set up shop here, start right away and do only my work, under my supervision, until we’re done.”

      * * *

      “YOU DON’T HAVE TO GIVE my father an answer by evening’s end,” Matt told Jen after Emmett had gone off to tend to other business. “Dad won’t make the same offer to another artist.”

      She stared at him. “Are you sure about that?” she asked.

      He let out a measured breath. The truth was, he couldn’t figure out what his father was thinking, never mind why he was doing the things he was right now. One minute he’d be ebullient—full of dreams that had to be fulfilled right away. The next, he’d disappear, sometimes for a few hours, other times, a few days.

      When Emmett did return, he usually seemed fatigued. Pale and almost shaky.

      If Matt didn’t know better, he’d think his dad was binge drinking. But that didn’t make sense. The man could hold his liquor. He just didn’t choose to drink very often.

      Instead, Emmett handled stress by spending. Land, works of art, cattle—it didn’t seem to matter what he bought as long as he enjoyed the wealth he had and purchased something.

      The big СКАЧАТЬ