After the bright sunlight, Jade had to close her eyes for a moment. When she reopened them . . . well, she couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
“This is some kind of a joke, right?”
Chapter Fifteen
Tonight’s the night . . .
Tobin had that Rod Stewart song on the brain all damn day.
No. You’ve had naked, sexy time with Jade on the brain all day.
Finally they’d have uninterrupted alone time.
He’d planned everything for a perfect romantic night.
A candlelight dinner at the Chez Majestique in Casper.
A stroll through City Park.
Then spending the rest of the night fucking like animals in the suite he’d booked at the Radisson in downtown Casper.
He’d even slipped Teddy a hundred bucks to do the first cattle check, so he and Jade could have a leisurely morning together, hopefully with room service and shower sex.
But the very first thing on his agenda was scrubbing off the day’s grime. Then he’d pack a bag and try to sneak out of the house without it becoming the Inquisition.
It threw him to see Miz G sitting dejectedly on the front steps.
He slid out of his truck, his arms and legs aching. An eight-mile run coupled with his day of heavy lifting hay bales had him moving more slowly than usual.
“Why so glum, chum?” he said to Miz G.
“Do you ever wonder if your friends are laughing at you behind your back? If they tell you one thing to your face and then turn around and act a completely different way?”
“Friends . . . meaning your friends? The Mud Lilies?”
“Yep.”
“What have they done now?”
“I’m not sure. It started when they all stopped by today to meet Jade.”
The back of his neck prickled.
“I went into the kitchen to get refreshments. When I returned to the living room, everyone except Tilda had disappeared. I asked where they’d all gone and Tilda gave some vague response. Then she whipped out the new Pyramid catalog and my brain sort of went offline. I love that dadgum catalog.”
“What kind of catalog is it?”
“They specialize in fantasy knickknacks, them fancy historical clothes, signs with inspirational sayings, jewelry up the wazoo, Celtic stuff. So I started flipping through it. By the time I got to the last page, an hour had passed. An hour in which I shirked my hostess duties. The ice cubes had melted in my lemonade, and the cherry crisp I’d warmed up in the oven had become hard as a brick.”
Tobin made what he hoped passed for a sympathetic noise.
“So I’m looking around and wondering why my friends needed time alone with Jade.”
That got his attention. “What were they doin’?”
“Talking, they said. But Tilda had let it slip they’d been in the barn. What in the blue blazes were they doin’ in there?”
“Did you ask them?”
“Of course I asked. But those women are masters at deflecting. They asked me if I’d seen anything in the catalog worth buying and it was like a trained dog response.” She slapped her knee. “I tell you, from here on out I’m goin’ cold turkey. No more catalogs.”
“Did Jade tell you what they talked about?”
“Nope. She was pretty quiet afterward. She’s shy and she gets overwhelmed. They didn’t take that into account when they were talking to her.”
“How long ago did this happen?”
“They left . . . maybe two hours ago.”
“Where’s Jade now?”
“Out in the garden. She’s been out there forever.”
No wonder he couldn’t get a hold of her. “Why don’t you go inside and salvage some of that cherry crisp. I’ll try and talk to Jade about it.”
“Be nice,” Garnet warned and rolled to her feet.
“I’m always nice, Miz G.”
As soon as she shuffled into the house, Tobin removed his hat and ran his hands through his hair. After he brushed the worst of the hay dust off his clothes, he cut around the edge of the porch and headed toward the gardens.
He found her sitting on the stone bench in the corner, her forehead on her knees, her arms wrapped around her shins.
“Jade?”
She jerked at the sound of his voice and jumped up.
Tobin froze.
What the hell had happened to her today?
Bits of dried grass were dangling from her hair.
Her face was filthy, save for the tear tracks that zigzagged down from the corners of her eyes to her jawline.
Her T-shirt was streaked with dirt. As were her jeans.
He tried for a light approach. “Did you forget to tell me you’re trying out for Ladies’ Mud Wrestling Night at the Prickly Cactus?”
That’s when she burst into tears. “Don’t you ever say the word ‘mud’ around me again, Tobin Hale, or so help me, I will—”