A Love to Call Her Own by Marilyn Pappano Read Free Book Online Page B

while she slept, pretended not to know her, been rude. It was only the last time they’d been together, sharing a table at Bubba’s, that he’d behaved in a way that wouldn’t have made his mother smack him.
    With a growl from his stomach, he glanced at the dashboard clock. He’d intended to get a hamburger in town before making stops at the post office and the feed store. But he wasn’t completely out of anything vital, and the bills he was mailing could wait another day, and Jessy was silent, watching and waiting, and…
    He drew a breath, then blurted out, “My ranch is a few miles east. You want to see the animals and—” He removed his Stetson, ran his fingers through his hair, then reseated it. “And maybe have a sandwich or something?”
    It was the hardest question he’d asked in a long time.
    She was quiet a long time, then a shaky smile lifted the corners of her mouth. “Okay, um, sure,” she said, avoiding his gaze, her fingers clasping, then loosening on the camera. She actually managed to come off as shy—a trait he never would have imagined in the smoking-hot sexy redhead he’d met two months ago. “I’ll follow you.”
    As she pivoted to walk to her car, Dalton pulled into what was left of the Jefferson driveway, backed out again, and started slowly toward home.
    In four years, he’d never invited anyone to the house, and now twice in two months he’d done just that—first with Dane Clark, a soldier from Fort Murphy who had a soft spot for palominos, and now Jessy. Not only would she still have a hold on his brain, now she would be leaving memories of herself in his house, with his animals, on his property.
    Though it had worked out with Dane, the first friend Dalton had made since high school, having Jessy there could be a step forward with reclaiming his life…or two steps back.
    He kept his speed down to minimize the dust, and Jessy stayed far enough back to avoid the worst of it. When he turned into his driveway, dirt so hard-packed it took a fully loaded stock truck to raise a particle of dust, she closed the distance, parking a half beat after him under the oak.
    Inside the house, Oz barked, his face popping up at one window, then another, ears perked and yelps increasing with frustration that he couldn’t get to their visitor. “I have to let Oz meet you before he takes out the front door. You want to eat first?”
    Jessy hesitated, camera strap and purse strap over one shoulder, arms across her middle. “Yeah, sure. I skipped breakfast.”
    She walked to the house with him, but her head was constantly moving, gaze sliding over the structures, the fences, the pastures, the horses, the wood swing, the honeysuckle gone wild where the old well house had finally collapsed, taking note of everything as if she found it all deeply interesting. At least, more than him.
    Or to be fair, maybe she was more comfortable with things than with him. He sure as hell was.
    He gave Oz a firm command to sit before cautiously opening the front door. This would be his first official introduction to anyone outside the family, and its success depended more on Jessy than on the mutt. Did she like dogs, hate them, fear them, prefer cats? Was she going to shriek, maybe shove Oz away?
    Oz’s butt was hovering a few inches above the floor when Dalton stepped inside, and his entire body vibrated with excitement. His long pink tongue dangled from the side of his mouth, and he was sniffing the air so thoroughly and so fast that it was a wonder he didn’t hyperventilate.
    â€œOh, you have an Australian shepherd! He’s beautiful!” The words came from behind Dalton and from the area of his knees, because she was crouching on the floor, sending out let’s-play vibes as strongly as the dog.
    No need to worry there. With a hand gesture, he released Oz, who closed the distance with one jump, leaning his body