An Amish Match (19 page)

“Please call me Faith,” she urged, brushing her suddenly sweaty palms against the denim of her designer skinny jeans.

Acquiring new, more practical boot-cut jeans was on her priority list of things to do now that she was finally here in Serendipity. And as much as she loved her Jimmy Choos, her good pair of cowboy boots would have been much more sensible for the occasion. She was practically aerating the park grass with her three-inch spikes.

“Faith,” he repeated, his rich, lyrical voice making her name sound like a musical note. “I'm Jax McKenna, and apparently I am at your service.”

“It's nice to officially meet you, Jax.” She held out her hand and he dwarfed it in his own. Again she had the impression of hard work and calluses, a complete contrast to her own lotion-softened, office-cubicle working hands.

That will change. Soon.

She'd spent the last few years working in accounting for a non-profit organization to save up the money for her horse sanctuary. Mere months from now she hoped and prayed that her palms would likewise carry the blisters of hard country labor. She could barely wait for that day, anticipating it like a child would Christmas morning. She was a city girl with a country heart.

“Here we are,” she said, gesturing to a rather plain-looking brown wicker basket lingering next to the trunk of an oak, shaded from the glare of the sun by the old tree's branches. As she looked around at the other baskets dotting the lawn, she couldn't help but feel a little bit embarrassed. Her own meager offering looked so bare and ordinary next to the others. Many of the women had decorated their baskets with colorful plumes and ribbons. She wished she'd thought of that—especially because the man she'd be sharing a meal with looked as if he could use a few kindhearted gestures. But on the other hand, he didn't seem like the sort of man who'd really be comfortable with something dolled up and fancy. Maybe plain was best, after all.

Without speaking, Jax crouched over the basket, withdrawing a blue-checked plastic tablecloth that had been the best Faith could do under the circumstances. She'd arrived in Serendipity only two days ago and hadn't learned of the auction until the day prior.

How she'd come to bet on
this
particular tall, sturdy cowboy was a mystery even to her. It was nothing more than a gut feeling, but she'd learned over the years to follow those silent promptings.

Thankfully, the man with the rooster voice had stopped singing, but the crowd was still hooting and hollering in the background. Jax didn't seem to notice, nor, apparently, did he want to wait for the rest of the town to finish with the auction before he and Faith started on their picnic.

He spread the tablecloth across the grass and gestured for her to sit. Then he pulled out plates and silverware and popped the top of a cola can before offering it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, dropping onto the far corner of the plastic and folding her legs under her. “Although I feel like I ought to be doing the serving,” she said as he inspected the club sandwiches she'd made for the occasion. At least she'd used foot-long sub buns and loaded the sandwiches with meat, cheese and veggies. Dagwood would be proud of her creation.

Jax glanced up at her, and the unscarred side of his lips curled upward. Close to a smile, at any rate. Faith would take it.

“You paid for my time,” he reminded her. “I figured now is as good a time as any to start working off my—” He paused and bent his head as he considered how best to finish the sentence.

“Community service?” she suggested, chuckling at the double meaning.

“Yeah. That.” He wasn't laughing.

“I—uh—okay, right,” she stammered. She didn't usually stutter like a schoolgirl with her first crush. If she didn't get a hold of her tongue soon, he would think he was working for an idiot.

His gaze had returned to the basket, giving Faith a modicum of reprieve. She took a deep, calming breath. There was no reason spending time with this man should visibly shake her, and the sooner she got comfortable around him, the better. After all, if he was as good with horses as Jo claimed, she hoped she might be able to convince him to stretch out his community service and continue working with her until her project was—if not finished, then a great deal closer than it was right now.

Then again, maybe he was expecting nothing more than to provide one day's labor. No one had really set the guidelines for what happened after the auction, or at least nothing that Faith had heard.

“There are canisters of potato salad and barbecue baked beans, as well,” she added, relieved when her voice came out sounding normal. “I'm not much of a cook, but I made them myself. The beans are an old family recipe. Back home we called them Cowboy Beans.” The thought struck her as funny and she chuckled.

“Well, that's fittin'.” He pulled out the plastic container of beans and scooped a heaping portion onto each of their plates. “Where's home?”

He sounded genuinely interested, putting her more at ease. She leaned back on her hands. “I was born out east. Connecticut. I attended college in Wyoming. That's where I got interested in horses.” It was also where she'd met...

She cut the thought off firmly, refusing to let her mind wander in that direction again. It still hurt to think about Keith and his son. She coughed, realizing Jax was speaking and she'd missed what he'd just said. “I'm sorry. My mind wandered for a second there. What did you say?”

His dark eyebrows lowered over stormy brown eyes. He assessed her, the working side of his lip curving into a frown. “Nothing important. Just that there's good horse country out in Wyoming. Potato salad?”

“Yes, please.” She was relieved that he didn't push her on what had caused her distraction. She wasn't ready to talk about Keith, or about his precious son.

They ate in silence for a while, each lost in thought. As the auction continued, more people moved to the green, milling around them, talking and laughing. Some even stopped to introduce themselves. Faith should have been happy to be so welcomed by her new community, but her empty chest echoed with the sounds.

Before she knew it, Jax had cleaned his plate—not once, but twice, leaving her glad she'd thought to pack extra. Jo Spencer had advised her on the eating habits of the Texas male, and Jax was no slouch in that department.

“If you don't mind me asking—why?” Jax's voice had a hard edge to it, and he didn't quite meet her gaze.

“Why?” she repeated, bracing herself. She wasn't ready for him to elaborate on his question, to have to explain why a city woman wanted to open up a mustang sanctuary in the country, but sometimes there was no way out but through.

“Yeah. Why?” He lifted his tan cowboy hat and brushed his forearm across his brow. “Why did you bid on me?”

Her heart skipped a beat. Why
had
she bid on him?

“You mean why did I bid in the auction in general, or why bid for you, specifically?”

He shrugged. “Both, I guess.”

The truth was, he'd looked miserable up on the auction block, especially when there was hesitation from the crowd on bidding for him. She couldn't imagine why that was. Despite his scar, he was quite handsome, if a woman liked her men strong and rugged. Faith would have expected the town's single ladies to be shouting over each other in order to get a chance to spend time with this guy.

And yet there had been silence. The drop-of-a-pin kind.

Maybe it was too early in the game. Jax was only the second man to be auctioned, and the first bachelor. Perhaps the ladies were waiting to see who else was offering their services. Or maybe there was something about Jax that Faith didn't yet know about, such as that he was conceited or had a bad temper.

She hoped not, but she was about to find out— because Jax was frowning again.

“Look—I don't want your pity,” he said, his voice husky.

“What? No.”

“Are you seriously going to sit there and tell me you didn't feel sorry for this scarred old monster? Because I won't believe you.”

“I was standing at the back of the crowd. I couldn't even see your scar.”

He shook his head. “That's even worse.”

Now she was the one feeling insulted. “Why? You think I'm so shallow that I would want to bow out of our agreement just because of a gash on your face?”

He scoffed. “Wouldn't be the first time.”

She heard the bitterness behind his words. Someone in his past had injured him deeply. The wound in his heart was deeper than the one on his face.

“Well, that's not me. I came here today looking for someone to help me with my ranch. I bought the Dennys' old place, and it will take a lot of labor to get it in working order. If you're going to pitch in, then I couldn't care less what you look like. Wear a paper bag over your face, if you like. It won't matter to me. I'll take all the help I can get.”

His jaw lost its tightness at the welcome change of subject. He whistled softly.

“That place is pretty run-down. What do you plan to do with it?”

“I'm going to save wild mustangs.” Her voice rose in pitch as enthusiasm for her life's dream engulfed her.

His gaze turned skeptical and his lips quirked. “Are you serious?”

Of course she was serious. Ever since she'd heard of the plight of wild mustangs as a child, she'd had it in her heart to take action, to make a difference. That's why she'd left the East Coast and picked a college in Wyoming. For a while, life had gotten in the way and she'd set aside her dreams. But after what happened with Keith—she refused to dwell on that part of her life—she'd started making legitimate plans to fulfill her goals, and now here she was, in Serendipity, a brand-new owner of a ranch, however derelict it was.

Baby steps.

“You doubt me?”

He leaned his back against the solid trunk of the oak and stretched out his legs, crossing them at the ankles, and giving her a once-over that sent chills down her spine.

His gaze lingered on her shoes.

“Forgive me if I'm a little bit skeptical. You're clearly a city girl. What do you know about ranching?”

The only reason she didn't punch him in the arm for his sarcasm—apart from not really knowing the man and how he'd react to that kind of attack—was that his words were lined with amusement. Hopefully not at her expense.

“All right. I'll admit I was born and raised in a metropolitan area and have never lived on a ranch. However, I have spent several years volunteering at a wild-horse sanctuary. I realize I'm on a learning curve here, but I have read a lot and my bachelor's degree is in business management with a minor in conservation and environmental science. I've done a lot of studying on the subject. Wyoming isn't tolerant of wild horses.”

He snorted. “You've
read
about it? Like in a library? And you think a little piece of paper somehow makes you qualified to manage a horse farm? With wild mustangs, no less. Exactly how many wranglers do you intend to hire?”

She shook her head. She was afraid this subject might come up. “None. At least at first. I'm working to find like-minded donors to help me reach my vision, but until more funds come in, I can't afford to hire any help.”

“You're doing this alone?”

“Well, not
all
alone, obviously. I have you, don't I? At least for a little while? I don't think we've talked about the length of your—
indenture
.”

“I think most guys are going a month of weekends.”

“That'll do. You can show me how to get the ranch up to scratch. I'm a fast learner.”

“You're going to have to be, because fixing up the ranch won't be your only obstacle. Just how much experience do you have with mustangs? I've spent my whole life working with horses, and they still surprise me from time to time. Wild mustangs? That's a whole other thing.”

“Yes, but they need my help.” Her pulse quickened as adrenaline blasted through her and her spirit lifted. For a moment Jax's words and attitude had discouraged her, but then she remembered how many ways the Lord had come through for her. He'd guided her to Jax. She didn't believe in coincidences.

“You train horses, then?” She wanted specifics.

“Quarter horses for ranching and rodeo.” His eyes gleamed with pride. It appeared they shared a love of horses. She just had to convince him she was serious in her intentions.

“I'd love to see your herd.”

His gaze widened epically and Faith choked on her breath. Had she just invited herself over to his property? Heat flared to her cheeks.

To her surprise, he nodded. “Sure. Why not? If you don't have any other plans this afternoon, we can head on over there after we've finished eating. Give you the opportunity to see a working ranch in action and get up close and personal with a real, live horse.”

“Excuse me?” she huffed. “I've been around horses, thank you very much—and ranches, too. I worked at a ranch every summer while I was in college, and since I graduated, I've been volunteering weekends at Mustang Mission. I'm not the greenhorn you seem to think I am.”

“Your shoes would suggest otherwise.”

She chuckled. “Hey. I wasn't planning to go riding today. I'm new in town. I had to guess at the dress code. For all I knew this auction would be a black-tie event. Were we in a larger metropolitan area it probably would have been tuxes and cocktail dresses.”

A rich, deep laugh rumbled through his chest. “In Serendipity, honey, we have exactly two dress codes. Go-to-church clothes and everything else. If you ever have a doubt, dress casual.”

He tipped his hat and her heart purred. This was where she wanted to be. In the country, with real horses, real cowboys and a real chance to make a difference. Not back home where no one—except her friends at Mustang Mission—seemed to understand what she wanted to achieve.