Read Online Perfect Touch by Elizabeth Lowell - Free Book Online Page B

tanked,” Barton began.
    â€œVermilion Ranch money paid for all your bad bookkeeping, failed businesses, and back taxes,” Jay said. “You want more money, earn it the way Vermilions have for six generations. Work on the ranch.”
    â€œCow shit isn’t my style,” Barton said.
    Finally, Sara thought. Something we agree on.
    Liza stood. “Come, Barty. We have lawyers to talk to.”
    â€œBeck recommended some Boston attorneys who specialize in just our problem,” Barton said, following her.
    â€œYou’ll be paying them, not the ranch,” Jay said. “Judge made that real clear, too.”
    â€œThere are other judges,” Liza said.
    The front door slammed behind her and Barton, a loud period to the argument.
    â€œI apologize for my relatives, ex and otherwise,” Jay said.
    Sara shrugged. “They’re not the first ill-behaved adults I’ve ever dealt with. Won’t be the last.”
    He just shook his head.
    Impulsively she touched his shoulder. The heat and power of him through the cotton shirt startled her. “Don’t let either of them manipulate you with guilt. Families are way too good at that. You’re a good man. Don’t let them drag you down.”
    Jay shuddered lightly at the feel of her hand’s warmth sinking into his skin. “If you knew what I was thinking right now, you wouldn’t call me a good man.”
    His voice dropped in tone, and the heat in his eyes was unmistakable.
    â€œI didn’t say you were a saint,” she said, slowly lifting her hand away from his shoulder.
    For a long moment he watched her watching him.
    â€œThey gone yet?” Henry called from the kitchen.
    â€œYeah,” Jay said without looking away from Sara. “It’s safe for you to slide off to your cabin.”
    â€œYou cooking tonight?”
    â€œDid you bring fresh stuff back from town?” Jay asked.
    â€œSure did.”
    â€œThen I’m cooking.”
    â€œSee you in a few.”
    The door shut smartly after the foreman.
    Jay stood up, pulling Sara lightly after him. “Let’s get your luggage out of the truck. Do you have something you can wear on a horse? If not, I’ll find something. Mother’s clothes are still packed away. She was about your height and build. I want to leave for Fish Camp around dawn. We’ll overnight there with the caretakers—Ivar and Inge Solvang—then push on to the summer pasture the next morning.”
    â€œI always pack something I can hike or ride or relax in. You said dawn?”
    â€œCrack of. The calves are just old enough to be stubborn. The mamas are better, except when they aren’t. It will take us some time to convince all of them to stay on the trail. It could be a long day. Cows like staying in one place.”
    â€œStubborn beasts,” she said, remembering. “At least my horse will be doing the work rather than my own feet.”
    â€œYou sure you’re used to riding?” he asked.
    â€œI’m sure.”
    â€œWestern saddle?”
    â€œI didn’t grow up in the East.”
    His half smile said they would find out for sure in the morning.

CHAPTER 7
    H ENRY DRIED THE last dinner plate and stacked it in the cupboard. “Since you’re not paying lawyers anymore,” he said, “you should have cash for a dishwasher that works.”
    Jay said, “It’s on my list.”
    â€œHow high?”
    â€œBottom of the top half.”
    Sara laughed softly. “I’ve heard that one before, only it was usually bottom of the bottom half. I made a religion out of ‘gently used’ whatever and grew a skin thick enough to ignore the snark at school when I wore some rich girl’s castoffs.”
    â€œIt would have done Barton good to be raised that way,” Jay said.
    â€œMaybe,” Henry said. “But he still would have had the Wicked Bitch of the West as his mother. Everything