What’s got ya all fired up?” Charlie settled in a chair, his callused hands wrapped around a cup of Arbuckles.
Jonah sniffed the coffee appreciatively, but his mind was scattered. He stood in front of the mirror and adjusted his string tie. String tie. In England, he’d be decked out with cravat, green silk vest, and coattails. Here in New Mexico territory, he wore a ribbon around his neck and questioned his senses in even going to a ridiculous spring dance—miles away in town, no less. Was he that starved for socialization? Never. It was that Roadrunner that left him behind in a cloud of dust to hang off the arm of her own ranch hand. Celia Jo had no more sense than a court jester.
“Ain’t goin’ to answer me?” The hot coffee slurped as Charlie sucked it through his teeth to cool it as he drank.
Jonah yanked the tie and threw it onto the side table. Bloody string.
“Celia Jo.”
“CJ?” Charlie’s eyebrow raised.
Drat if the old cowboy didn’t have a twinkle in his eye. It irritated Jonah, and he had to ask again, though on the day of Charlie’s arrival, he hadn’t liked the answer. “Why?”
“Why what?” Another sip of Arbuckles.
“Why did you—you con me into hiring her?”
Charlie drew back and furrowed his graying brows. “It wharn’t no con. Ya writ me and asked if I knew someone who could be yer foreman and I told ya who. That’s all.”
“She’s a woman.”
“So, ya did notice.”
“Charlie!” Jonah didn’t mean to snap at the man, but his patience was as threadbare as Kip’s neckerchief.
“She ain’t doin’ a good job?” Charlie challenged.
“Of course she is. Far better than I expected.”
“So where’s yer problem?”
Jonah planted his fingers on the bridge of his nose and squeezed. “She’s—she’s… a she.”
“’Bout time ya put that one to rest. I tell ya, ’tween you and CJ, ya both have made a big issue outta nothin’.”
“She doesn’t belong here.” Jonah was emphatic. Regretfully so. He noticed Charlie’s eyes shadow.
“And you do?”
Touché.
“I at least didn’t try to become something I shouldn’t be.”
“Really? As I recall, you should be back in England, bein’ a hoity-toity lord.”
Touché again. The cowboy didn’t stop.
“But I’m still doing a man’s work.”
“Who said workin’ with horses can’t be somethin’ a woman does?”
“Well, it is hardly proper.”
“I don’t recall no Bible verse sayin’ a woman can’t be a foreman. Far as I’m concerned, the Bible sets what’s proper.”
Jonah frowned. But shouldn’t a woman know her place? That was what he’d always been taught. A lady. Refined.
“Lord knows the two of ya are gonna keep pitchin’ fits until you realize He gave ya both talents. You should hoot ’n holler about ’em. Git all happy for ’em.”
Jonah couldn’t argue with that. He was arguing more with his pride now. And maybe, if he were honest, his heart. Ever since the tarantula, holding CJ in his embrace, and now seeing her in the morning, fresh, pretty, with the passion and force of a desert dust storm, something inside of him saw the future. Not just the future of the ranch, but his future. Unexpected. Unwanted. CJ wasn’t… Well, she wasn’t what he had pictured when he let his mind rove toward the future and toward family. How would he ever reconcile a woman in trousers, swinging up on a horse, racing wild over the desert chasing mustangs?
“She should at least stop trying to fit into a man’s shoes, and embrace her womanhood.” It was a paltry argument, but it soothed Jonah’s pride.
Charlie’s eyes brightened. He looked beyond Jonah, and a smile tipped his mouth. His chuckle was husky and congested.
“Looks like she’s done that.”
Jonah turned, and a vision of pink femininity slammed into him. Celia Jo stood in the doorway, her hair piled in curls on her head with a few rebellious ones toying around her neck. Her sleeveless gown was lacy, with pink roses and other fluffy things that screamed anything but foreman.
For pity’s sake. No matter how he spun it, Celia Jo ran circles around him. Maybe Charlie was right. His narrow mind had diminished her talents and, in doing so, dumbed down her womanhood.
She was beautiful.
And she was going to the spring dance with Kip.
Jonah’s eyes were open wide now and locked with the most beautiful set of chocolate browns. He had been a fool.