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Isabella’s face fell. “I see.”
“Take one of the ranch trucks and go shopping in Austin, if you’d like. They’ve got some great shops on Congress that I’m sure you’ll love.”
He was ditching her. “I didn’t come all this way to go shopping, Mr. Redford.”
Bull steeled himself to resist her. “Miss Cortez, I didn’t even know you were coming, so you can’t expect me to drop everything to entertain you. I’ll make sure you have the information you need before you go. Dax will be glad to show you around.”
“Dax? You’d foist me off on your foreman?”
“Here.” He handed her the television remote. “Watch some TV.” Bull headed out of the room with a stack of papers in his hand. He didn’t have anywhere he needed to be, he just needed to not be around her.
“This isn’t how a good host treats a guest,” Isabella yelled down the hallway after him. Frustrated, she flopped down on the couch. Isabella had worn the tightest pair of jeans she owned and left her bra in her bag. She’d been so sure they’d shared a moment in the kitchen and she wanted to regain it, but Bull had run, leaving her by herself. “Screw this.” She tossed the remote down on the couch beside her.
How could Isabella get Bull to see her as a desirable woman, a woman as desirable as La Diosa, if she couldn’t get him to stay in the same room with her?
Dang it!
If he wasn’t going to entertain her, Isabella would entertain herself.
From the very first, she’d longed to learn everything there was to know about Benedict Redford. Since she was here in his home, this was the perfect opportunity to do so. Rising from the couch, she set out to investigate her surroundings.
The living room was like the rest of the house she’d seen so far, quaint. Large built-in cabinets adorned the walls, made of oak and stained dark brown. Isabella thought the color too dark for a house this size, but they were unmistakably masculine and suited Bull to a T. If she’d ever doubted his claims of former rodeo glory, Isabella only needed to look at the many photos and trophies that filled the shelves of those bookshelves to be convinced. There were numerous tall trophies with bucking bulls on top and the word Winner or Champion etched on the plate, right next to his name.
There were also some candid photos of him riding a bull, his arm held high in the air. Another photo showed him being carried off on a stretcher, blood clearly covering his white shirt. Her heart pounded at the sight. Yet another photo pictured him with a small boy. “Luke,” she whispered, the look of love on Bull’s face was unmistakable.
Among the trophies and personal memorabilia, there were also accolades for his generosity to several organizations. Cancer research. Rascal Rodeo. Angel House Homeless Shelter. He was certainly a valued member of his community and these awards attested to his worth.
“What’s this?” she murmured. Tucked behind a photograph of Bull riding in a rodeo parade, she found a silver frame. In her mind, placing a picture in front of another was the male equivalent to throwing it out. When she brought it into view, what she saw told her volumes.
A wedding portrait.
The groom was her Benedict, looking as happy as she’d ever seen him. Cradled in his arms was a woman with pale hair, sharp facial features, and what Isabella would call a fake smile on her face. Despite her harsh critique, the woman was undoubtedly beautiful. Fair skinned with golden hair. She knew they were no longer together, but that fact didn’t help her feelings. This was the woman Benedict had chosen to marry. Jealousy reared its ugly head and Isabella’s heart sank.
Placing the picture back where she’d found it, Isabella hoped Bull wouldn’t notice it had been moved. “I’m not doing this to myself. I came here to find out if we belong together and I’m going to do it.”
Needing something to distract her from the old wedding portrait, Isabella wandered into the kitchen to look around. The refrigerator was rather barren except for a few staples. Milk and butter. There was also some type of leftover takeout. When she pulled back the top and looked inside, she shut it quickly. “Dios!” This might not be her house, but Isabella made the executive decision to throw it out. “I may have saved his life,” she muttered.
The cupboards were a bit fuller. She found plenty of spices, some canned goods and a few more staples, but that was about it. There was a slight possibility that a meal could be made from the contents of the kitchen, but the cook would have to be very creative. Unless Bull had a stockpile of canned beans out in the barn, Isabella wasn’t sure how such a big man could survive with nothing to eat in the house.
Standing at the sink, Isabella tapped her finger on her bottom lip. “Surely a cowboy has some beef in the house.”
With a little more exploring, she found a chest type freezer in the laundry room behind the kitchen. Upon raising the lid, she found several half-full bags of green peas and a few nearly-empty ice cream containers. Apparently, Bull was a sucker for Neapolitan ice cream. Isabella couldn’t believe how many ice cream containers there were. When she opened one she noticed there was still a big chunk of pink left in it. All the others contained similar remnants. “Not a strawberry fan, I guess.” Pushing aside a bag of frozen spinach with about an inch of ice on it, she found what she was looking for. “Exito!”
Taking a large beef steak, enclosed in a Ziploc bag, Isabella placed it in a bowl of water to thaw. “He can’t just have meat for dinner. What else?” She’d seen lots of frozen vegetables in the freezer and a few cans of corn and peas in the cupboards, but if she were going to cook for this man, Isabella wanted to do something a bit more impressive then dump a can into a pot and season it with salt and pepper.
With fingers crossed, she left by the back door to do a little more exploring. Just as she suspected, Benedict kept a small vegetable garden behind a tall wire fence. The plants were scruffy and a bit unkempt, but she found tomatoes, potatoes, and green peppers aplenty.
Back in the kitchen, she stood at the sink and scrubbed the dirt off the potatoes she’d dug out of the ground with her hands. The picture of the blonde woman she’d found earlier wouldn’t leave her head. She wondered if his ex-wife ever cooked for him? With her competitive juices flowing, Isabella was determined to make a meal that would impress him if it was the last thing she did.
An hour later, Bull pulled into his driveway. He’d driven over to Canyon’s and talked the poor man’s ear off, doing what he could to calm himself and get Isabella off his mind.
“What’s all this?”
Isabella looked away from the stove. “Great. You’re just in time.”
“For what?”
“Dinner. Please sit down.”
