Free Plots and Pans by Kelly Eileen Hake Page B

years later, Jess couldn’t say what surprised her more—that Tucker Carmichael hadn’t left the Bar None years ago or that he’d grown into a man strong enough and skilled enough to oversee the entire operation. Whether or not the intervening years had been kind, he wore the changes well—and Jess was woman enough to be intrigued by the differences time wrought.
    Though she couldn’t be sure, she thought he’d grown taller. Certainly, his shoulders broadened and he’d gained muscle through the chest and arms. He moved with equal parts deliberation and easy confidence. Beneath the whiskers, his jawline sharpened since she’d last seen him, his brows seemed thicker and more thoughtful. She’d never thought about how expressive eyebrows could be, but Tucker Carmichael’s transmitted his mood loud and clear.
    Especially drawn together like that, scowling at her. It made Jess wonder whether she’d earned his ire this afternoon or if he harbored a deeper grudge from seven years before. She couldn’t tell whether Tucker recognized her as more than “J,” but suspected he hadn’t fit that piece to the puzzle yet. Perhaps her position as a member of the Culpepper family would elicit respect.
    Or maybe he’ll start seeing the wayward girl I was instead of the woman who’s standing in front of him
. She bit back a sigh.
Nothing like a conversation guaranteed to feed a man’s temper
.
    For a second his attention shifted to Desta. “I’m not put out. I’m fed up, that’s all.”
    “That sounds more appropriate to a kitchen,” Jess pointed out agreeably, unable to resist.
    “I’ve been busy tracking down a stranger wandering on Bar None grounds,” he snapped back. “So you’ll have to forgive me if I’m less concerned with what’s appropriate in a kitchen.”
    Stranger?
Jess wondered if he referred to “J,” the mysterious grub-line rider, or if he still included her now. It sounded like Tucker Carmichael pegged her as the rider from this afternoon, but didn’t recognize her as Jessalyn Culpepper. And why should he? She hadn’t recognized him either.
    “And I turned out to be even stranger than you expected,” Jess hazarded, unwilling to apologize but feeling it was only fair to acknowledge the upset she’d caused. It didn’t take much to see that he’d rushed over to the big house to keep her aunt protected from the missing “stranger.”
    “That’s not the—” her aunt broke in, obviously intending to protest Jess’s characterization.
    “Well,” Jess headed her off. “It’s pretty clear Mr. Carmichael didn’t expect to find me.”
    “Oh, now, wait a minute, ma’am.” His quaint manners caught her for a moment, and Jess fought a smile at the novelty of being addressed as ma’am. As he continued, her amusement faded.
    “Granted, I was on the lookout for the grub-line rider, but I still ran you to ground. Whether you’re wearing a waterlogged duster or some fussy party dress doesn’t make a lick of difference.”
    His disdain made it all too clear how much he would’ve preferred finding a fellow cowboy to discovering her as a woman. Some small corner of Jess’s feminine heart sputtered with indignation.
    First he thinks I’m a man
. She’d wanted him to make that mistake at the time, but now it seemed a smidge more insulting.
And now he acts as though I can’t wear a dress properly either!
    Jess knew an evening gown when she saw one, and she knew she’d do better to find something more serviceable. But tonight she hadn’t been able to resist the fanciful notion that wearing Mama’s favorite dress would be like wearing a hug. She’d craved that closeness.
    Besides, it buttoned. None of the others fit across Jess’s chest. And even though the man standing in front of her didn’t know any of that, she couldn’t help but stew over his remarks.
    “If it makes no difference, then there’s no need to insult me,” she gritted out, suddenly reminded that the past weeks had