withdraw.
Juliana walked toward the south wall, which displayed a gold-framed portrait of Granny that appeared to be fairly recent. She’d only been gone for three years, and it couldn’t have been painted too long before that.
“That’s a perfect likeness,” Juliana said. “She looks just as I remember her—the eyes, the nose, the smile.”
Jason followed her, taking note of the expression that had been caught on canvas and thinking the same thing. “It’s like looking at a photograph, yet it’s softer. And almost real.”
“Did she have it commissioned?”
“I assume she did. I don’t remember seeing it before last night.” But then again, he hadn’t been home for any notable visit in years.
“The artist is quite talented.” Juliana stepped closer and read the signature in the corner. “I used to work in a gallery, but I’ve never heard of Camilla Cruz. I don’t believe she’s local.”
That was odd. Then where had Granny met her? Jason supposed it didn’t matter, so he shrugged it off. “I’ll tell you what. Why don’t you unpack and freshen up. Afterward, you can meet me in the den—I’ve set up a temporary home office in there. It’s two doors down on the left. As soon as you’re settled, we can go over your job assignment.”
“Sounds great. I won’t be long.”
* * *
True to her word, Juliana only took a few minutes to put away the clothing and toiletries she’d brought with her. Then she met Jason in the oak-paneled room with a bay window that provided a view of the front yard and the big red barn.
He had an all-in-one laser printer, fax and scanner that took up a table near a built-in bookshelf on the far wall, as well as a laptop computer that sat next to an old-style PC with a big, bulky monitor that had been outdated years ago.
“I see you brought your own office setup.”
He glanced up from his work and smiled. “I tried to talk Granny into updating her computer system a couple of years ago, but she refused. My dad bought it for her about fifteen years ago and installed it. She’d gotten so used to that dinosaur that she couldn’t see parting with it. But I need something a lot more high-tech for what I do.”
She nodded then moved into the den. “So where would you like me to start?”
He glanced at the laptop screen and clicked the mouse, just as the printer roared to life. “I created a spreadsheet to inventory the items inside the house. If you make a note of them on paper first, we can input the data into the computer afterward. Some of the items are antiques, so we may need to research their value.”
“What about the sentimental value?”
He looked at her as if she’d uttered words in a foreign language. “Carly mentioned that. I suppose some people are more prone to form emotional attachments to things like furniture, but I don’t. And I doubt my brother does, either.”
“You’re wrong.” She bit her lip, wishing she could take it back. She hadn’t meant to be so judgmental, even if she had wanted to defend Braden. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I don’t think you know your brother very well.”
Again he paused for a beat. “You’re right about that—Braden and I haven’t been close. And if you grew up here in Brighton Valley and heard the local gossip, then you probably know why.”
Not for a fact, but she was aware of the rumors. And Braden had said enough to allow her to come to a few conclusions of her own. Their father, Charles Rayburn, had been married to Jason’s mother when he’d had an affair with Braden’s mom, during which Braden had been conceived. Jason’s mom had sued for divorce, but for some reason, Charles had never married Braden’s mother.
“Your family connection may not be one of your own choosing,” she said, “but you’re brothers just the same. I’d think that would account for something, especially after having that relationship for more than twenty-five years.”
“Believe it or not,” Jason said, “I’d like things to be different between us.”
“Have you told Braden that?”
“If we could find time to spend an hour or two together, I probably would.” He got up from his seat, crossed the den, pulled the empty spreadsheet from the printer and handed it to her. “This is pretty self-explanatory.”
Okay, so he was done discussing his feelings about his brother. That was fine. It wasn’t any of her business anyway. So she scanned the document and nodded. “When do you want me to get started on this?”
“Now, I suppose.”
“Do you plan to break for dinner?”
He glanced at the clock on the desk. “I guess we’ll have to. Sometimes I forget the time and work until my stomach growls, but that’s not fair to you.”
“Would you like me to cook something?” she asked.
“That wasn’t part of the deal, but sure. If you don’t mind. You may have to hunt and peck to find something decent to fix, though. I have some lunch meat and sandwich fixings, but I haven’t done any real grocery shopping.”
“I’ll see what I can come up with.”
“We can trade off kitchen duties,” he added. “But on my nights, we’ll probably call out for pizza. I’m not much of a cook.”
“That sounds fair to me.” She tossed him a smile, then headed for the kitchen.
Before she stepped foot into the hall, he stopped her. “I have a question for you.”
She turned and waited in the doorway.
“How do you know Braden so well?”
“We were neighbors before my grandma’s ranch went into foreclosure. He and I used to be riding buddies back then. I guess you could say we were friends and confidants.”
He merely studied her for a moment, as though he found that difficult to believe. Or maybe as if he might be a bit envious.
But of whom? Her or Braden?
From the way those meadow-green eyes were boring into her, she couldn’t be sure.
* * *
Juliana set out a delicious, mouthwatering spread of tuna rice casserole, sliced tomatoes, homemade biscuits and Granny’s canned peaches. Jason sat in awe at her domestic capabilities, especially when she didn’t look the least bit like a homebody.
She’d probably meant to keep her long, wavy red hair out of the way while she’d cooked, because now she wore it in a sexy topknot, with wisps of escaped curls dangling along her neck and cheeks. He would have guessed that she might have done it on purpose to tempt him—if she’d also changed out of that attractive gauzy blouse and put on a slinky tank top instead.
But she hadn’t. She’d also kept on that pair of knee-length shorts that revealed shapely calves. While they were modest and a far cry from a revealing pair of Daisy Dukes, there’s no way he’d ever call her Bird Legs again.
Now they stood at the sink, washing the last of the dishes, a chore he’d always done while staying on the Leaning R and seemed especially fitting this evening.
“Did I tell you how much I enjoyed dinner?” he asked.
“Yes, several times. And you’re welcome—again.” She tossed him a dazzling smile. “But I’m going to have to go shopping tomorrow to pick up something from the meat market. There wasn’t much to choose from, other than the sandwich fixings you had in the crisper, tuna, biscuit mix and your great-grandmother’s canned goods.”
“Those peaches were a real treat. And I can’t remember the last time I had tuna. To be completely honest, I might have passed if it was offered on a menu.