said.
Especially with all three other Cartwright women looking over their shoulders, speculating on what was and wasn’t happening between her and Travis.
“Unfortunately,” Travis interjected with a beleaguered smile, “Liz had an emergency with another client that called her away, and we didn’t finish. So we’ll have to go back to it at some point soon.”
They would, Liz realized reluctantly. Which would mean even more time spent alone with him.
Only this time there would be no kissing. She would make certain of it.
“That won’t keep you from checking the new calves in the pastures this morning, will it, Travis?” Reba asked in alarm.
“Not at all.” He finished his coffee and stood. “I’ll get right on it. Thanks for the fine breakfast. Ladies…” He grabbed his hat and strolled out.
“My oh my,” Tillie sighed, her hand fluttering above her heart.
“I quite agree,” Reba said, sizing up his departing image the same way she sized up the procreating powers of a bull for hire. “Having a man like that for your baby’s daddy…”
“Mom!” Liz said, flushing hotly.
“I’m just saying....” Reba eyed her matter-of-factly, in that instant every bit as goal-oriented as Travis. “You’re not getting any younger and we need a new generation of Cartwrights. Travis is here. He’s hot. He’s available.”
“Why not just go ahead and say it—he’s a stud!” Liz interrupted sarcastically.
“And he’s from prime breeding stock,” Reba continued, without skipping a beat. She lifted a palm. “The two of you wouldn’t even have to marry—”
“Of course they would marry,” Tillie exclaimed, her romantic sensibilities offended by the notion of them having a baby and not living happily ever after.
“A romance with a man who’s not going to stick around for the long haul is the last thing Liz needs,” Faye Elizabeth grumbled.
Tired of having her life decided for her, by everyone but her, Liz sighed and grabbed her briefcase and her breakfast. “I’m out of here,” she told one and all grouchily.
To her consternation, by the time she reached the parking area, Travis’s pickup truck was disappearing down a dirt road that traversed the ranch.
Figuring she could talk to him later, she headed for the Laramie County sheriff’s station.
“You have to stop picking fights with people,” Liz told J.T. when they met up in the courtroom.
Disheveled and exhausted from a night spent in the holding cell, he remained defiant. “People,” he returned cantankerously, “need to stop waging battles with me.”
“This isn’t what your late wife would want for you.”
He ignored her reference to his beloved Cyndi. “I want that pool.” He peered at Liz. “And I know you can figure out a way for it to happen.”
Talk about the impossible.
She sighed.
“Meantime, if I get community service for this, make sure it’s something outside,” J.T. continued. “I hate being cooped up.”
Liz tried another approach. “You don’t have to plead guilty to the misdemeanor charges. I can get them dropped if you’ll only agree to get some grief counseling.”
J.T. scowled. “You know how I feel about that.”
“Nothing is going to make your grief go away, I know,” Liz repeated his oft-muttered sentiment.
“Exactly.”
Figuring that, under the circumstances, community service couldn’t hurt, since it would get him out of the house, Liz did as he asked.
The guilty plea was entered; he was lectured by the exasperated judge and assigned twenty hours of community service cleaning up local streets.
An hour later, she was headed back to the office.
It was noon by the time she arrived at the ranch.
Pale gray clouds were obscuring the horizon. Reba, Tillie and Faye Elizabeth were in the midst of gathering up their purses—and raincoats, just in case.
“What’s going on?” Liz asked. Given the fact it was a Saturday, they could be headed anywhere.
Tillie stuffed her notepad and