The Texas Rancher's Vow

He thought he’d gotten past this. Accepted fate. Moved on.

The truth was he was still as rocked by it as his father was. No wonder Jen had been reaching out, trying to comfort Emmett. She probably felt sorry for him and wanted to protect his macho image.

Matt didn’t need her doing that for him, too.

“I don’t think so,” he said gruffly, ready to run from the scene like an emotional coward, just as his dad had.

He turned away from Jen and headed toward the door.

First, he’d had to dig his mom’s paintings out of storage and carry some up; he had no idea which ones, since they still weren’t unwrapped.

And now this… His dad all weepy over sketches and photos of his deceased wife, and Matt feeling the same.

Still, he had a duty to at least be civil to Jen. She probably knew what she was stirring up, but had to do it anyway, as part of her work here.

Swallowing, he paused in the doorway and glanced back, meeting her gaze. Somehow making his voice sound almost normal, he announced, “I came up to tell you that Scully has food over in the bunkhouse if you want to join him and the hands for dinner. That’s what Dad and I usually do when Luz is off. But if not,” Matt continued, with the requisite politeness shown to guests on the Triple B, “you’re welcome to either have some chow sent over, or cook here. Naturally, you can help yourself to whatever is in the kitchen.”

Jen held his eyes, looking as if she wanted to say something important, but didn’t dare.

She swallowed, too, then nodded with the same careful politeness he’d shown her. “Thanks for the information and the invitation, but I’m not really hungry. I think I’ll grab something later.”

Matt couldn’t say he was surprised. Sometimes solitude was the best medicine. And right now, he needed even more time on the range.

“Suit yourself.” He tipped his head at her, then walked off.

* * *

JEN ENDED UP WORKING until almost ten. By the time she hit the kitchen, the rest of the house was silent. An indication that Emmett had either gone out or gone to bed. The same with Matt.

Trying not to feel disappointed about the lack of company, she opened the stainless-steel fridge. It was filled with all sorts of goodies, and she was still trying to decide what to eat when footsteps sounded behind her.

Matt walked in, a disgruntled look on his face. He was wearing a clean pair of jeans and a plain white T-shirt. His hair was damp and he smelled of soap and shampoo. Which reminded her of their lovemaking that afternoon.

Had it only been eight hours or so since they’d been together? she wondered wistfully.

It felt like a lifetime ago.

More than a lifetime.

She studied Matt’s surly, withdrawn expression, and couldn’t help but wonder if Emmett was still feeling poorly. Or whether Matt had noticed. Even if he wouldn’t yet admit to himself that his dad was ailing.

A feeling of unease sifted through her. She had to tread carefully here so as not to let anyone down. “Everything okay?”

Matt shoved a hand through his curly black hair. “Depends on what you mean by okay.”

She drew a conciliatory breath and lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “Okay…”

Her pun did not elicit the smile she had hoped to see.

Which likely meant he was still wrangling with his residual grief.

All too aware that this was his domain, not hers, and she was simply a guest here—and at the moment, an inconvenient one—Jen shut the fridge.

Ignoring the hunger pangs in her tummy, she leveled an honest glance at Matt. “If you want me to clear out while you do whatever it is you came in here to do, I’ll return later.”

It was the least she could do, after thrusting Emmett and Matt back into the throes of grief, at least temporarily.

He rocked back on his heels. “You haven’t eaten dinner yet?”

Her stomach growled. Hoping he hadn’t heard that, she waved away his concern. “I got caught up in what I was doing.” I was also hoping to avoid running into you until I felt better able to honor Emmett’s request to keep his health issues secret.

Jen peered at Matt, noting he had shaved.

And though the clean-cut look wouldn’t last on him more than a few hours, it was nice at the moment. Made it easy to see how ruggedly handsome he was, even without the masculine stubble. Worse, it reminded her how much she still wanted to throw caution to the wind and make love with him again.

But adding to the emotional confusion simmering between them would be foolish. Jen had stopped being foolish years ago, because she knew no good ever came of it.

Aware that Matt was still studying her, an implacable expression in his intent, sky-blue eyes, she swallowed. “Surely you ate.”

He leaned against the kitchen counter, arms folded in front of him. “The storm the other night knocked down some fence. A hundred or so cattle wandered out, so they had to be rounded up and moved to another pasture until the fence could be repaired.”

So he hadn’t just been avoiding her.

“Sounds…challenging,” Jen remarked.

His expression didn’t change. “All in a day’s work.”

Was making love with her all in a day’s work, too? she wondered, then pushed the thought away. She had to stop thinking about Matt in romantic terms. Otherwise, she’d never get over their “fling.”

Never be able to finish her work here.

Keep Emmett’s secret.

Advance her career.

Keep her heart intact.

Matt might be able to handle a casual affair, but she couldn’t.

Not without losing a part of herself along the way.

Some of the tension eased. Matt moved past her, brought out a casserole of leftover chicken enchiladas, and containers of rice and refried beans. Set it all on the counter. He gestured at the fridge, which was loaded with other choices—all prepared by Luz, for weekend consumption. “Help yourself.”

“You sure?” Jen eyed what Matt had chosen. It looked awfully good, even cold. There was plenty.

“I think we can share a meal, even if we don’t ‘share’ anything else,” he said wryly.

Such as another kiss?