Jocelyn: A Sweet Romantic Comedy (Sewing in SoCal Book 2) Page 10

  Did that sound as hackneyed to her ears as it did mine?

  “As I can’t recall the word as anything but a verb, you’ll have to enlighten me.”

  I’d have an easier time castrating a full-grown bull than looking into Jocelyn’s eyes and confessing how remarkable I found her. How impressive and striking she was.

  The swing groaned and swayed as Jocelyn and I lowered ourselves into the seat. “I, uh, wanted to ask a favor of you.”

  “I’m listening.” She rubbed at her arms.

  I hadn’t registered the chill in the night air before, but the small movements of her hands worked as a signal, kicking me into action. Leaning forward, I pulled on the sleeves of my sheepskin-lined denim jacket.

  “Oh, you don’t have to—”

  Something in my look caused her to press her lips together.

  Taking the woolly lapels in my fingers, I draped the jacket over her shoulders and then returned to my side of the bench.

  With arms crossed, she pulled the opening of the jacket closed about her, cocooning herself in the space I’d occupied only moments before.

  “This is nice. Thank you.”

  My tongue thickened in my mouth, and I swallowed hard. “You’re welcome.”

  Seconds passed, but all my thoughts stampeded away from me.

  Her full lips quirked in a small smile. “The favor?”

  Muttonhead. Was it too much to hope to one day have a conversation with this woman that wasn’t stilted and stammering? I coughed. “Right. Your friend who’s a sound engineer.”

  “Betsy.”

  “Would she… I mean, was she…”

  Jocelyn’s hand found my leg, stilling me. “Betsy would be thrilled if Nate would let her help him record a demo and send it to some people she knows.”

  Relief washed through me so strong I barely registered the heat from her palm. “Thank you.”

  She squeezed my leg then pulled her hand back into the cave she’d made with my jacket. “If it’s not imposing of me, what was that all about? With Nate and the song and disappearing, I mean.”

  I pressed my toe into the ground and sent the swing in motion. “A man in Nashville scammed him out of five thousand dollars. Now he’s disillusioned, feeling guilty, and has to sell Domino. Playing the guitar tonight—”

  Jocelyn bolted upright and the swing tipped. My arm reacted on reflex, snaking around her waist and holding her in place so she wouldn’t fall.

  Her fingers dug into my forearms, jerking my attention to her eyes, wide in an almost panicked state. Her breath warmed my face in quick exhales, stalling my own as I realized just how little distance separated us. A few inches at the most.

  “You can’t sell Domino.”

  If not for her grip, I would have eased away. As it was, the curve of her hip under my hand burned my palm like a hot iron. Branding me. “Neither Nate nor I want to, but he’s Nate’s horse and five thousand dollars right now—”

  “I’ll buy him.” She pushed away from me and snuggled deeper into my jacket, her eyes losing focus as if she were working out a complicated problem in her head.

  My mind spun. Had she just said she’d buy Domino? “A horse—”

  “Can he stay here at the ranch, though?” She hauled her gaze back to mine. “I don’t have a place to keep him in San Diego.”

  “You’re serious?”

  Her eyes gleamed. “It’s perfect. I’ve felt a connection with this place ever since I got here, and the thought of saying goodbye forever sends spasms of homesickness though me—which I know is weird since this isn’t my home. But if I buy Domino, I have a reason to come back any time I want. It’s perfect.”

  An unfamiliar feeling wove itself around my ribs like the switchbacks along the Sierra Nevada mountains.

  Jocelyn thought the Double B felt like home.

  She would come back again and again.

  My gaze traced the beautiful lines of her face, my gut sinking at a foregone loss. Even if she stayed the rest of her life, I’d never be able to form the words to tell her how deeply I was beginning to feel for her.

  15

  Jocelyn

  Pesky little problem, money. A rectangle of green paper with the power to control lives. Have enough, and every door is open to you. Have little, and those same doors are slammed in your face.

  Well, not this time.

  I could feel my inner Scarlet O’Hara rising indignantly.

  Domino would not be leaving the Double B. Not if I had anything to say about it.

  Problem was, I didn’t have five thousand dollars lying around.

  I marched back to the fire pit, my molars grinding as I tried to figure out a solution.

  “Oh no.” Molly lifted her head from Ben’s shoulder as I approached. “I know that look. Our girl is on a mission.”

  I sank into the vacant spot beside her. “Anyone want to go halfsies on a horse with me?”

  “A horse?” Amanda recoiled as if I’d suggested splitting the World Series trophy in half. “When that hunky cowboy sauntered over and asked for a private word, I thought the word would be romance not horse.”

  The phantom warmth from Malachi’s jacket enveloped me once again. A shiver of awareness had glided along my spine as the back of his fingers brushed my bare shoulder when he insisted on being a gentleman and offering me his jacket. An outdoorsy scent of fresh-cut grass and sage had clung to the sheepskin lining and distracted me as I fought to remain attentive to what he’d wanted to talk to me about.

  I blinked those memories back to the corner of my mind. I’d take them back out and examine them later, but I couldn’t let the unexpected surge of awareness I’d felt in his arms distract me from saving Domino.

  “I’m serious. They’re going to sell the horse I’ve been partnered with and…and I can’t let him go.”

  My friends’ thoughts were written clearly on their faces.

  You’ve only been here a few days. You couldn’t have become that attached already.

  Jocelyn Dormus owning a horse? She’s going to need another closet.

  Have you lost your mind?

  Betsy’s smirk left no uncertainty as to her opinion on the matter.

  “Are you suggesting we…” Drew jumped in but then paused, his mouth pursed as he searched for the right word. “Timeshare a horse?”

  I snapped my fingers. “Timeshare. You’re brilliant.”

  “Someone finally recognizes my genius.” His gaze swung to Nicole.

  Betsy rolled her eyes. “Timeshares are for vacations. If you don’t have the lump sum to purchase a horse, you could always lease one.”

  “Isn’t leasing for cars?” Ben asked.

  “Sure.” Betsy waved a hand. “But the same principal can be applied to a horse.”

  I chewed on my lip, thinking. If I took over the loan payments as a lease, then Domino could stay at the Double B, Nate could keep his horse, and I could come and visit him whenever the city became too suffocating. Five thousand dollars was out of my reach, but maybe I could scrounge enough for the monthly payments.

  Molly reached over and squeezed my hand. “Timeshare or lease or whatever, if this horse means this much to you, you know you can count on me.”

  A chorus of me too murmured around the circle. I blinked back the emotion crowding my eyes and gave them all a smile of thanks.

  Drew looked down at his watch. “It’s getting late. We should probably start the drive back, Ben, don’t you think?”

  Molly wrapped her arms around Ben’s middle, the press of her face on his chest pushing her glasses off the center of her nose. Ben chuckled and pulled Molly up with him. “Let me say goodnight to my girl, and I’ll meet you at the car.”

  Drew nodded and pulled out a set of keys from his pocket. “Good night, everyone.”

  “Good night, Mr. Drew.” Sierra’s voice could be heard above everyone else’s.

  Was it my imagination, or had Drew’s face softened at the child’s soprano? I peeked at
Nicole, but she seemed to have suddenly found the flames of the fire mesmerizing.

  Molly emerged from the darkness a few minutes later, her hair mussed and lips a thoroughly-been-kissed shade of pink. Amanda woof whistled, and I elbowed her in the side.

  She grinned at me. “That girl’s just spent seven minutes in heaven. Nothing I do is going to bring her down off that cloud.”

  Nicole shot a look at Amanda before tipping her head toward Sierra.

  “What’s seven minutes in heaven?” Sierra asked, her face scrunched.

  Nicole widened her eyes at Amanda, and Amanda had the good sense to at least appear chagrined.

  Molly returned to her seat. “Seven minutes in heaven is—”

  “Praying!” Nicole interrupted with a burst, her hands outstretched as if holding back a tsunami that would drown her child. “Amanda meant Molly had been praying.” She turned to Molly and mouthed seriously?

  Molly shrugged. She had a truth-only policy that extended to children and had gotten her fired from her last job at a preschool. Which was, consequently, how she’d met Ben. We’d all learned long ago never to ask her a question if we weren’t prepared to hear her brutal answer.

  Betsy stood. “I’m going to bed before you all make me hurl.”

  Nicole ushered Sierra over. “Bedtime for us as well, little lady.”

  “Might as well hit the hay myself.” I paused halfway to standing when I realized everyone was staring at me. “What?”

  Molly’s mouth twitched. “I’ve just never heard you use that expression before.”

  “Don’t go making more out of it than it is.”

  Her eyes twinkled. “Like a mountain out of a molehill?”

  “You’re hilarious,” I deadpanned.

  Molly linked her arm with my left. “And you, my friend, have changed. Subtly, but it’s there.” She leaned in and whispered. “And I like it.”

  Was she right? Had I really changed in a matter of half a week? The prospect that I had frightened me a little. I’d spent years constructing boundaries for my life. Ones that would keep me and my family stable. Where we wouldn’t have to worry about inconstancies and fluctuations. If I changed—if pushed those boundaries—then the foundation beneath my feet could crumble and fall apart like the destruction after an earthquake.

  I wasn’t sure I was strong enough to pick up the pieces again and rebuild if I let a changeable variable into my life that had the power to disrupt everything.

  16

  Malachi

  Calving season came with a special case of nerves. Maybe not the same variety that drenched the halls of a maternity ward at a hospital, but the livelihood of many small ranches rode on the backs of newborn cattle, the Black Buffalo included. Which was why every birth was pivotal. The eighty pounds of a newborn could tilt the scale of success one way or the other.

  The Red Angus heifer bellowed, her neck restrained in the head gate.

  “Got her ready?” Doc Reynolds asked.

  I ran my hand over the expectant mother’s side. The ridges of her ribs gave way to the large patch of prickly quarter-inch hair I’d shaved between her last rib and the hook of her pelvis. I squirted a good amount of pre-iodine scrub across the area and cleaned the dirt and dried feces from her hide.

  “Here.” Doc handed me a bottle of alcohol, and I washed the area to complete the disinfecting process. He stepped beside me with a long needle that he inserted into the cow’s spinal column. In a few seconds, she wouldn’t be able to feel anything.

  Boots crunching on the ground behind me caused my head to whip around. Jocelyn stood a few feet away, her eyes as round as an owl’s as she stared at Doc with his impressive needle, the heifer with her bulging belly, and then me.

  “What are you doing here?” I cringed as soon as the words left my mouth. My tone hadn’t sounded accusatory, nor had I meant it to, but how else could she take the question? And really, what was she doing there? Miriam had agreed to take the women staying in the Conestoga on a trail ride, and Nate was supposed to keep the Whalen group occupied with fence repairs on the other side of the property.

  “I wanted to talk to you about Domino, but I can see that now isn’t a good time.” She pointed to the cow. “Is she all right?”

  “Her baby is too large. Doc here is about to do a C-section on her.”

  “You can do that on livestock?”

  Doc picked up a sharp medical instrument. “Want to stay and watch?”

  No! My mind had been like a bumble bee, buzzing between the two flowers of whether Jocelyn fit at the ranch or not. Whichever was true, she did not belong here, among the mess and possible disappointment if the result of the procedure turned out to be other than what Doc Reynolds and I hoped for.

  “If not, then you better leave now.” Doc’s forehead wrinkled in concentration as he brought his sharp instrument to the cow’s side and cut a foot-long incision.

  A small gasp rent the air behind me, but the sound wasn’t followed by the retreat of feet.

  Doc reached his hand into the abdominal cavity. “I can feel the calf.” He gently pulled the uterus partway through the opening, then made a cut across the uterine wall. A second later, his hands red and wet, he pulled a hind foot into the world.

  Scrambling, I handed Doc the calving chain, and he attached the birthing device to the calf’s exposed leg while holding the uterus in position against the outer incision. Reaching in, he found the second leg and attached another calving chain to it, which I held up. With controlled strength, Doc and I muscled against the baby, which would weigh in at almost a hundred pounds.

  “You still there?” Doc called over his shoulder.

  A strangled squeak answered.

  “Good. We need your help.” Doc met my eye, and I could read his concern in the fine lines around his mouth.

  “I…I…I…” Always in control, always poised, always with a ready response Jocelyn was tongue-tied.

  The cow’s body shuddered. I hadn’t wanted Jocelyn here to witness this, and by the shell-shocked quiver to her voice, I’d been right. But she hadn’t left, and now we needed her. I pressed past the constriction in my chest and forced my voice to stay calm but authoritative. “Jocelyn, I know this isn’t what you signed up for, but this mama and baby could really use your help right now.”

  “I…I…”

  I braced my elbow on my hip and steadied my hand before turning my shoulder so I could look at her. Her skin had paled, and she stared at the legs coming out of the cow’s side like it was the chestburster scene from Alien.

  “Jocelyn.” I said her name softly.

  She didn’t even blink.

  “Jocelyn!” I barked.

  Like someone coming out of a trance, she gave her head a little shake then met my gaze.

  I’d never been good with a lot of eye contact, but the wave of anxiety that normally slithered up my spine and pricked my skin didn’t stand to attention as her honey eyes focused on mine. “You can do this.”

  She looked like she wanted to protest, but then resolve slowly firmed her gaze. Her shoulders pushed back, and she took a step closer.

  With three sets of hands, we managed to pull the calf up and out. The weight sent Jocelyn stumbling backward, and before I could catch her, she landed in a heap on the ground, the wet calf coated with amniotic fluid and white birthing membranes half in her lap. Instead of pushing the thing away from her, she leaned over its body and then looked up at me with a panicked expression.

  “It’s not breathing.” Her voice wobbled.

  I fell to my knees beside her and worked my fingers into the calf’s nostrils, scooping away fluid to unblock its airways.

  Nothing. Still as death.

  C’mon. I jammed my hand into its mouth and worked my fingers around. We had thirty, maybe sixty seconds at most to get this baby breathing. A piece of straw tickling its nose to cause it to cough or sneeze did nothing.

  “Malachi.” Tears laced Jocelyn’s voice.

&n
bsp; Time for gentleness over, I pulled the calf off Jocelyn’s legs and laid him on his side, his neck stretched, chin up, head back. Covering one nostril and holding the mouth shut, I blew into the other nostril until I saw the calf’s chest rise. I let its lungs empty.

  “Breathe,” I commanded, then blew again. And again.

  “Wait.” I heard Doc past the fog that had overtaken my brain. He stood at the mother’s side, washing out the abdominal cavity.

  Jocelyn reached out and gripped my hand.

  I stared at the calf’s ribs, willing them to rise. Then, as if a biological switch had turned on, the chest cavity expanded. The calf breathed its first breath on its own.

  An exhale of relief escaped my lungs. The little guy would be all right.

  Pressure on my hand stole my attention. Jocelyn’s tapered fingers wrapped around my own. Drying fluids and blood caked our skin. A mess. A beautiful, spectacular mess.

  I forced my eyes up to meet hers. “You’re amazing,” I whispered, then stilled.

  Not what I’d meant to say. I’d wanted to tell her she had been amazing. Stepping up to help when the sight of blood and gore obviously made her uncomfortable and squeamish. But my mouth betrayed me with this woman yet again.

  The pulse in her throat drummed below her jaw line as she let go of my hand and rubbed her palms together. “I can’t believe I did that.” Her eyes rounded. “I can’t believe you did that. You saved the calf’s life.”

  Doc chuckled as he tied off the last of the sutures. “You two make a good team.” He looked back long enough to throw a wink my direction.

  Sudden heat nipped at my ears.

  Jocelyn laughed. “I think I’ll retire from my short-lived career as a cattle doula, thank you very much. While the babies are adorable, the birthing process is, uh, not.” She looked down at her hands and the front of her clothes.

  Not much I could do about her clothes, but we both could use a good scrubbing.