Cowboy Summer Page 3

  Stepping out of the car, she clutched her hair as the Wyoming wind slapped her upside the head, flinging grit that stung her skin. Some people might have gotten back in the car and hightailed it for someplace more hospitable, but Jess was a Wyoming girl, accustomed to winds strong enough to overturn semis on the interstate.

  She gathered her curls in one hand and shaded her eyes with the other, sipping a long, slow drink of home. All the empty places inside her filled with peace and pleasure, as if she’d downed a whole pitcher full of blue skies garnished with wildflowers and sunshine.

  Hawaii, schmawaii. This was her favorite place in all the world.

  A friendly voice hailed her from a rusty flatbed parked by the barn. Painted letters on the driver’s door, nearly obscured by rust and flaking paint, read JEB JO SON HAY & FE D.

  “Hey, Jeb!”

  Jeb Johnson had been working with her dad since Jess was knee-high. Racing to the truck, she hopped on the running board and reached through the open window to drag his weathered face to hers and lay a smooch on his grizzled cheek.

  He reached up and touched his face with shy reverence. “Oh, girlie, it’s good you’ve come home.” His eyes, normally bright with mischief, were glossy with—could that be tears? “They need you ’round here.”

  “I need them, too. I’ve missed them. My dad, I mean. And you.” Grabbing the steering wheel for support, she popped up on tiptoe and peered inside the cab. “Got snips?”

  “Forgot ’em at the last place.” He nodded toward the barn. “He went in to grab some.”

  “Oh good. I’ll surprise him.”

  She hopped off the running board and considered the load on the flatbed. Hay bales were stacked high and wide, bulging over the edge of the bed, barely contained by baling wire.

  Since she’d been a little girl, Jeb had made a game of letting her choose which wire to cut. If she chose the right spot, the bales would tumble safely off the far side of the truck. Choose wrong, and they’d tumble all around her, bouncing to the ground like giant, hairy hailstones. But she needed snips to play.

  Heading for the barn, she hugged herself with glee. Her dad, stepping out of the dark tool room, would be blinded by the sunlight. She’d surprise him, all right.

  Jeb called after her. “Now, honey, I’m not sure…”

  Shushing him, she pressed her back to the sun-warmed barn. The paint would rub off on her shorts, but a barn-red butt was a small price to pay for scaring her dad into one of his creative cussing streaks.

  She heard the rasp of wood on wood, then bang—a drawer slammed shut. Tensing, she tightened her smile to restrain the laugh trapped high in her chest.

  Footsteps hit the hollow floor, approaching the door. She counted.

  Five, four, three, two…

  “Arooooo!”

  With a crazed coyote howl, she leapt for the shadowy form in the doorway, knowing with giddy certainty her daddy would catch her, like he always did.

  The wire cutters rattled to the ground, and a masculine grunt greeted the impact of her body.

  She was caught, all right. The only trouble was, that wasn’t her father’s grunt. It wasn’t his body, either.

  It was Cade Walker’s.

  * * *

  Cade had pictured his reunion with Jess waking, and he’d pictured it in dreams. He’d pictured it happy, and he’d pictured it hard. But he’d never pictured it quite like this.

  Momentarily blinded when he stepped out of the dim barn, he was shocked, even scared, when a howling bundle of womanhood slammed into his chest. He’d almost pushed Jess away—but then she’d kissed him.

  It was a family kind of kiss, not a romantic one, and it landed on his cheek instead of the other body parts that would have been happy to host it. But it was still a kiss from Jess, and that made it electrifying. He caught the familiar scent of her—grass and flowers, summer sun and peaches—and his heart sailed away on an ocean of happy memories.

  But the seas were choppy. She was fighting him like a cat in a bathtub.

  “Let…me…go!”

  He couldn’t. For one thing, he needed to look at her—just drink her in like a tonic that warmed his heart, plus a few places further south. Jess wasn’t a classic beauty, being taller and stronger than most movie-star types. But with her wild blond curls tumbling down her back, her blue eyes sparkling with energy, and her lithe, fit body warm and strong in his hands, she’d always been his feminine ideal.

  She managed to wrench herself away, but he kept his grip on one firm thigh. The ground sloped steeply to the rocky drive, and she’d fall if he didn’t hang on.

  Floundering for balance, she hopped madly down the slope.

  “Let go,” she snarled, slapping his arm. “I thought you were my dad. Let me go!”

  She always reminded him of some sort of wild critter. Usually, it was something sweet, like a rabbit or a deer. But there were times she was a cat—slinky, smooth, and lovely to look at, but all claws and teeth if you got too close.

  This was one of those times, and he was apparently way too close.

  Course you are, said his father’s voice. Baileys think they’re better’n us. Got all that money, all that land…

  “Wait.” Pushing the voice out of his head, Cade released her leg, but he braced his hands around her waist so she wouldn’t fall. “Calm down, okay? Listen.”

  He pulled her a little closer, knowing he risked getting hurt, but miraculously, the anger in her eyes flickered and died. The bobcat turned into a bunny, and there she was, back in his arms—the Jess he remembered.

  And oh, did he remember. The last time he’d seen her, she’d come back for Christmas after two years away. He’d already started seeing Amber Lynn by then, but he’d jumped at the chance to share Christmas Eve dinner with the Baileys.

  Jess had told story after story of her adventures in the city, her hilarious mistakes, and the friends she’d made. By dessert, he knew his chances of keeping her home were slim to none.

  They’d said a polite goodbye at the front door, and he’d gone to bed early that night. He hadn’t hit the whiskey bottle. It had gotten to be too much of a habit, and Jess wouldn’t like it. Even with her gone for good, her opinion mattered.

  He hadn’t expected the tap at his window a couple of hours later. He hadn’t expected to see her standing in the winter night with flakes dusting her hair and lashes tipped with snow. He hadn’t expected his brave, wild Jess to cross the pasture in a pair of pajamas to see him again.

  One more time, she’d said.

  He didn’t like to think of those city guys putting their hands on her, so he’d done his best to heat her up so she’d stay warm for a while. And then…

  His thoughts snapped back to the present as the scent of her fruity shampoo flooded his senses. Combined with his Christmas memories, it sparked a rush of adrenaline that collided with a hefty dose of testosterone, setting his body on high alert.

  High alert. He shifted against her, hoping she hadn’t noticed his flag was up and waving for attention.

  “You attacked me,” he murmured. “I almost knocked you down in self-defense.”

  She gave him a cockeyed smile that reminded him of those double-dog-dare summer days. “You couldn’t knock me down if you tried.”

  “You think?” He leaned forward, then leaned a little more. He was just trying to scare her, but he scared himself—and fell.

  Every cowboy knows the safest way to fall. Jerking her sideways, he made sure he’d hit the ground first, landing on one hip. Everything was fine until her body slid neatly between his legs and…

  Bam!

  The breath whooshed out of his lungs. Stars winked and danced before his eyes, and little cartoon birds sang, they really did, flitting around his head in happy circles while the world went black.

  Chapter 4

 
; The little birds twittered away as Cade opened his eyes to a blurred, watercolor world. Maybe it was heaven, because Jess’s blue eyes were fixed on his, just inches away.

  “Are you okay?”

  She was close, so close, and when he looked into those eyes, he was lost—because oh, she was right there, right where he could kiss her.

  He wanted to slip his fingers through her hair the way he used to, sweep it back from her face so he could see her, really see her, and then kiss her till she writhed against him, wanting more, always more. He knew just how it would feel—the pillowy give of her lips, the warmth of her skin. He could almost taste her—but wait.

  Wait.

  She reached out a hand to stroke his hair, then pulled back, frowning.

  He ought to say something. Something funny. That would cut the tension, and then he could kiss her.

  But he wasn’t much of a talker at the best of times, and the hard hit to his vitals must have knocked his brain off-kilter. All he could do was stare up at her, dumb as a rock, and hold out his hand.

  Miracle of miracles—she took it.

  With that touch, the world he’d lost came rushing back in glorious technicolor. His heart stirred like a hibernating beast, sensing the promise of spring, stretching in the sun after a long, cold winter.

  For the first time in forever, it felt good to be alive.

  * * *

  Jess pulled Cade to his feet—and boy, was that a mistake.

  While she’d been in the city among the desk jockeys, Cade had been busy working the ranch, building muscle as only a cowboy can. He’d earned the powerful shoulders, sinewy biceps, and bulging, muscular forearms of a Men’s Health model, but he was no Hollywood wannabe. His muscles were real, and so were his sun-touched hair and tanned skin—testaments to long, hard cowboy days in the western sun.

  The thought of long, hard cowboys set off a wild clamor of bells in her head. It sounded like a celebration, and her body was ready to join in. Intimate moments, some sexy, some sweet, rose up and drifted through her mind, spinning out in warm detail, wrapping around her thoughts, reaching for her heart as it softened and yearned.

  This is wrong. He isn’t yours.

  When he stood, she dropped his hand like it was hot. Her Cade wouldn’t have looked twice at a woman like Amber Lynn Lyle. Either he’d fallen for a human Barbie doll, or he’d married a woman he didn’t love, and that wasn’t the Cade she’d known—the Cade she’d loved.

  “Here.” He held up the wire cutters, reminding her this was about the hay. About the ranch. How had she gotten caught up in memories so fast? Memories, fantasies—she needed to get a grip.

  He tossed her the snips. As she snatched them from the air, he caught her gaze and held it. His eyes were pale gray, almost silver, like ice on a frozen pond, but there was something broken there, like shattered glass.

  Dang. Had he looked like this when she left? How—and why—had she ever walked away? Maybe it had been a mistake, but today, she’d have to walk away again before she screwed up both their lives even worse.

  She practically ran for the truck, where Jeb was grinning like a squirrel at a nut party.

  “You two done?” he asked.

  She flashed him a smile she didn’t feel. “Show’s over.”

  “You ’member how to do this?”

  “I sure do.”

  She strolled around the truck, considering the puzzle, wielding the wire cutters like a weapon as she searched for the perfect snipping spot.

  Cade pointed to the back of the load. “Here,” he said. “This one.”

  Dang it. Now she remembered why she’d left the Diamond Jack. Ranching was a man’s world, and men—Cade, her father, her brother—always acted like she was the dumb kind of blond. She’d had to leave home to prove herself. Now she managed a major hotel, hosting thousands of travelers, setting up international conferences for important organizations. She didn’t need Cade Walker to tell her what to do.

  As if acting on their own, her snips flashed out, cutting the closest wire. The blades cracked like a gunshot, halting the buzz of a nearby bee as suddenly as if she’d flipped a switch. Whatever birds were singing shut their beaks and fled, leaving room for one profound thought that thundered through her mind.

  Uh-oh.

  Covering her head with her hands, she ducked, squeezing her eyes shut as bales tumbled all around her. One thudded onto her bowed back, exploding on impact and showering her with fine, fresh hay that slid down the neck of her top and into her cleavage, where it itched like live bugs. She didn’t dare move while the rest of the load thumped to the ground in her own personal hay-pocalypse.

  When it was over, she dusted herself off, doing her best to act as if she was bombed by hay bales every day of her life. Jeb, leaning out the truck window, nodded at the exploded bale lying in the dirt.

  “I’ll refund your daddy for that one. But you really shoulda listened to Cade.” He shook his head. “You been gone too long, girlie. Aren’t you a cowgirl anymore?”

  He was teasing, but the words stung. She knew she’d never been a real cowgirl—not even to her dad. She’d tried hard and been willing to work, but roping wasn’t one of her talents, and he’d always laughed at her efforts, like she was cute or something.

  She glanced at Cade, sure he’d be laughing, but he was already carrying two bales to the barn. With biceps bulging from the torn sleeves of his T-shirt and strong thighs flexing under his Wranglers, the man was one fine personification of the cowboy work ethic.

  She wanted to poke her eyes out so she’d stop looking.

  She’d dated amazing men in Denver, she reminded herself. Lawyers. Stockbrokers. Entrepreneurs. Sophisticated men with fat bank accounts and bright futures. Why hadn’t any of them made her feel this way?

  Cade was married. Married. To Amber Lynn Lyle, of all people.

  Setting his load against the barn wall, Cade headed back to the truck with a loping stride that made her want to bite his spectacular cowboy ass.

  She’d better get to work before she got herself in trouble. Clutching a single bale to her belly, she waddled along like she was ten months pregnant with a gigantic hay baby.

  “Where’s Dad?” she asked.

  “Inside, I guess.”

  “Is he sick?”

  Cade set his load in place and went back for more. “Ask him.”

  Winded, she set her bale on the growing stack and lifted her hair off the back of her neck, gathering it in her fist so the air could cool her skin. Tiny shreds of hay dropped from her fingers and drifted down the back of her shirt, adding to the itchiness.

  Cade returned, carrying two bales like they were light as throw pillows.

  “You don’t have to do that.” She followed him back to the truck, trotting to keep up. “I can get it stacked.”

  “I know.”

  “Dad said he’s selling the ranch.” Grabbing another bale, she stutter-stepped to keep up with his long stride. “It’s not true, though, is it? He’d never do that.”

  “I hope not. Things around here wouldn’t be the same without Heck and Molly.”

  “Without Heck.” The words leapt out, a fierce protective reflex. “Molly doesn’t belong here.”

  Setting two more bales in place, he paused in the cool shade of the barn, shoving his hands in his pockets and staring out a window beside the barn door.

  His silence got under her skin worse than the flecks of itchy hay. He was probably on Molly’s side. Cade needed mothering, and now that Molly didn’t have students to smother, she’d probably taken Cade under her wing. Why else was he hanging around, working for free? Couldn’t her dad stack his own hay, the way he always had?

  Maybe not. Something was wrong; she could feel it.

  If there was bad news, she’d just as soon hear it now, from Cade. He was so strong
, so stable. His scent alone had always calmed her—that soothing blend of hay and sage and saddle leather. She’d known half her life she could stand up to anything as long as he stood behind her.

  But there’d be no more holding or standing or smelling. Not anymore. Leaving had been her choice, but damn Amber Lynn Lyle for making it a permanent one.

  He finally spoke, staring through the window’s rippled glass at a funhouse version of the fields and hills.

  “I can get this done. Go talk to your dad, okay?”

  She watched him, willing him to tell her what was going on, but being Cade, he didn’t jump to fill the silence like most people would. Finally, she gave up and left the barn, but as she headed for the house, a different kind of itch started up between her shoulder blades.

  He was watching her. She’d always been able to feel his gaze, sure as if he’d touched her.

  When she spun around, he looked away—but not before she saw his eyes. The broken look remained, but there was pity there, too. It made her feel as if those hay bales were still tumbling off the truck, bouncing all around her, threatening to knock her flat in the hard, dry dirt of the Diamond Jack.

  Somehow, she’d stay standing, and she’d do it without Cade Walker’s help.

  Chapter 5

  The wind slammed the screen door so hard, it felt like the house was giving Jess a spanking—maybe for being gone so long, or maybe for having lustful thoughts about a married man. Either way, she deserved it.

  Stepping into the front hall, she took a deep breath. It smelled like childhood, like happiness, like home. If the house were a fine wine, it would be a rich, robust red, with notes of lemon Pledge and Murphy’s Oil Soap, plus undertones of saddle leather, hay, and horse.

  But the place was dead quiet. Naturally, there was no one in the front room, the one her mother had called “the parlor” and furnished with expensive Victorian antiques. Dot Bailey had declared it was “the one civilized room in the house,” but with everything upholstered in cream-colored silk, no one ever felt quite civilized enough to use it, except for Jess, who’d spent hours there after her mother left, dreaming up a future that might lure Dot Bailey home.