Wild West Fortune Page 15

  “Yeah. So?”

  She wrung the water out of the T-shirt and pulled it back on over her camisole.

  The cooling relief it brought was immediate.

  She swished her legs through the short, thick grass growing at the water’s edge as she walked along it. There were a few boulders along the pond bank that would have made a decent enough spot to sit, except her butt didn’t feel ready for contact with anything just yet. Especially a hard piece of rock. “So, nothing. I was just wondering if the Thompsons were the ones who put in the windmill, that’s all.”

  “Yeah. They were.” His thumbs came out of his pockets and he pulled down the canteen from the tree branch. “They were like grandparents to us. They both died when we were in high school. Within a year of each other.” He waved in the direction of the windmill. “There’s a small cemetery over there. That’s where they’re all buried.”

  “Do you know what happened to their daughter?”

  He took a swig of water. “Car accident is what most people say. Suicide by car was more accurate, though. Earl told me about it one night.”

  “How terrible.”

  “She was pregnant, too. Like Mom.”

  Ariana winced. “So, not just one life lost, but two.”

  “Yeah.” He tossed the canteen strap over the branch again and moved around the horses where they were chowing down on the bright, green grass to sit on one of the boulders. Apparently a couple of hours in a saddle were nothing to him. “I used to wonder if Mom would have stayed here like she did if things had been different. If Earl and Cynthia hadn’t needed us all so badly to fill the void after their daughter died.”

  She imagined him as the boy he’d described. The one who’d wanted to be anywhere other than tiny little Paseo, and her heart squeezed. She perched gingerly beside him on a slanted rock. “Did you ever ask your mom?”

  “She said the only family who mattered was the one we’d made here.”

  So many questions. Questions she couldn’t ask because she didn’t know what might or might not lead to the matter of Jerome Fortune. And more than anything, she didn’t want that ruining their time together.

  “I never knew my grandparents,” she told him. “It was always just my folks and me.”

  “No wonder you’re spoiled.”

  She gaped. “I’m not spoiled!”

  His coffee-colored eyes were lighter than usual because of the bright sun. And when they looked right into her, the world stopped.

  I love this man.

  The realization flowed through her.

  But then he was speaking again, his smile widening. “Okay. You’re not spoiled.”

  The world started up again. She managed to lightly roll her eyes, even though inside she felt like she was reeling. “Darn tootin’ I’m not. I’ve been living with one pair of underwear here. No makeup. No cell phone. No internet. Have you heard me complain?”

  He scooped up water in his hand and splashed it around his neck. “No underwear. Hadn’t thought about that.”

  She cursed her thoughtless tongue. At least her red face could be attributed to the hot day. And just because she couldn’t get the notion of loving him out of her head didn’t mean he had to know it.

  She grasped for a change of subject. “How, uh, how long do you think it will be before the Ybarras can start rebuilding their house?”

  “They’ve already started.”

  “What?” She wobbled a little on her perch and instinctively grabbed his arm to steady herself. She felt his muscle flex, and then he stood, whether needing or wanting to put some space between them, she didn’t know.

  Then she told herself she was being overly sensitive, because all he did was head over to retrieve the canteen.

  “Nathan was over there before he headed out to check the north section,” he said before taking a drink. Once he capped it again, he held it out toward her. “He told me they’d already poured a new foundation and started the framing.”

  Her fingers brushed his as she took the container. “Amazing.”

  “Even in tiny Paseo, things can get done quickly.”

  “Clearly.” Just not when it came to getting parts for her car. She had no complaints on that score, though, as it gave her a reason to still be there. She had her back to the water and she stretched out her stiff legs as she sipped the water. “So, seriously. About Graciela...” A bee buzzed by her face and she jerked back, swatting at it.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t factor in the angle of the rock on which she sat and she felt her butt sliding back. Her arms sawed and her legs went up.

  She had only enough time to see Jayden’s startled expression before she hit the water. It sloshed up over the rocks, splashing her in the face, and she had a moment’s panic before she realized just how shallow the pond really was. Her rear end was on the bottom, her face well above the surface.

  She sat in deeper water when she was in her bathtub at home.

  She swiped the water from her face and looked up at him.

  At the edge of the pond, he stood there with his hands on his hips and a broad grin on his face.

  Dry.

  “You all right?”

  She finished capping the canteen that she’d somehow managed to keep aloft the pond water and tossed it onto the grass. “Aside from busting my dignity?” She put her hands down in the water, prepared to push herself upright, but they slipped against the slick bottom and water splashed up and over her shoulders. “I don’t know what’s growing on the bottom here, but may I just say ick?”

  He laughed outright. “It’s just grass, sweetheart.”

  “Easy for you to say.” Stupidly, something sweet was jiggling around inside her chest from the sound of his laughter. She tried finding some purchase with her boots, but the heels just seemed to sink farther into the bottom of the pond. “Sure there isn’t quicksand under here?”

  Still chuckling, he leaned forward, stretching out his hand. “No quicksand,” he promised. “Maybe some frogs and water bugs. A snake or two.”

  She grimaced, tried scrambling out of the water, only to land yet again with a splash. Not even a beautiful, graceful splash. Just an unbecoming flop. Because, naturally, that’s what would happen when you realize you love a guy.

  “I was kidding about the snakes.” He was still grinning. “Come on, city girl. Give me your hand.”

  “I guess I should be glad you’re not going for your ‘in case’ rope to haul me out.” She held out her hand and he caught it, circling his long fingers around her wrist.

  She yanked.

  He snorted, easily planting one foot in the water to keep himself from being pulled down into the water beside her. “Nice try. You think it’d be that simple? Other hand now.”

  She made a face but gave him her other hand and he hauled her clean out of the water. She bumped flat against him and his hands went to her waist.

  Before her nerve endings had a chance to fire too brilliantly, he pivoted to set her on the dry grass.

  “There you go. No harm done. Except for a little pond scum.” He pulled a long, slick piece of grass away from her neck and tossed it back into the water.

  She smiled. And gave him a healthy shove.

  Healthy enough to unbalance him and watch him land on his butt with a big splash.

  She laughed as she propped her hands on her soaking hips. “Watch out for us city girls.”

  He angled his head, giving her a considering look. “I suppose you think we’re even now.”

  She nodded. “I suppose I do.” She scooped up the canteen and took another drink. Then she capped it once more and eyed him. “You just going to sit there among the water bugs and frogs?”

  “Maybe I’m enjoying the view.”

  There was no question he mean
t her.

  She resisted the urge to look down at herself, because she knew what she’d see. The human equivalent of a drowning rat. “Sure you are. Because this is a really attractive look.” She squished her way to the flattest boulder and sat on it to pull off the boots. She upended them and water poured out. “I hope I haven’t ruined your mom’s boots, too.”

  She heard him splashing and looked over to see him standing in the pond and sloshing his way to the edge.

  “Y’ought to worry more about ruining mine.” Unlike the rest of him, his voice was dry. And somewhat muffled by the shirt he was taking off. He didn’t even bother with the buttons. He just pulled it straight over his head. Then he tossed it at her and it landed with a wet slap against her chest.

  It was almost impossible not to ogle him when his body was just so impossibly perfect. “Your boots got soaked the day we met,” she reminded him. “They survived that, didn’t they?” She threw the shirt back at him.

  He caught it in midair long before it could hit him. “You do realize that we still have to ride back to the ranch, right? If you were feeling saddle sore before, it’s nothing compared to how you’ll feel after riding in wet jeans.”

  “I would’ve been riding in wet jeans whether you took a little bath in there or not.”

  “Except I could have given you my dry shirt to wear.”

  “With wet jeans.”

  “Not if you took them off.”

  She raised her eyebrows. It was all she could do to keep it light. “Riding in just my dainties? You must be joking.”

  His eyes were amused. “We are gonna have to get our jeans dried out, though. Unless you’d rather walk, we’ll both be in for a pretty uncomfortable ride.”

  Being soaked from the pond had momentarily taken her mind off her stiff legs. “So walking, we’d probably get back around midnight?”

  He chuckled. “It wouldn’t take that long.” He spread out his shirt over a tree branch, then sat on a rock and worked off his boots. Then he pulled off his socks that she could tell were nowhere near as wet as hers. Then he stood and started unfastening his jeans.

  She couldn’t help the strangled sound that emerged from her throat and flushed when he looked at her. His eyebrows rose a little. “Something wrong?”

  “Aside from you having way too much fun at my expense?” She pointed an accusing finger at him. “That’s what you’re doing.”

  He spread his hands. “Considering history, you’ve shown an aptitude for taking off your clothes.” Then his grin broke loose and his hands fell away from his pants. “Truth is, I don’t know if our jeans’ll dry faster with us wearing them or not.” He walked barefoot through the soft grass over to where the two horses were still grazing and unfastened the bag from his saddle.

  He came back and handed it to her.

  “It’s like a fanny pack,” she said, unzipping the nylon bag to find a collection of granola bars and a small first-aid kit inside.

  “Cantle bag,” he corrected her, looking like he wanted to laugh.

  “Well, you attached it to the fanny part of your saddle.” She pulled out one of the bars and tossed the bag back to him. “Thank you. Aside from the failure to pack a spare change of clothing, you’re very prepared.”

  “Thank the army.” He sat down on the grass, then took a bar for himself before lying back. He had one leg hitched over his other upraised knee. “Wet jeans or not, this is the life,” he murmured. He tore open the wrapper and bit off half the granola bar.

  He’d made himself similarly comfortable that first day in the storm cellar and she couldn’t help smiling a little at the sight. She tore open her own bar and took a bite. “Did Graciela really get her bra hung up on a saddle horn?”

  “She really did.”

  “And she really said...what you said she said about the trotting thing.”

  He’d finished his granola bar and he rolled onto his side, propping his head on his hand. The muscles in his arm bulged. “She really said what I said she said.”

  He was laughing at her. No question. And she was still left wondering what had really gone on between him and the beautiful older woman.

  “Did you ever sleep with her?”

  His eyebrows shot up. “You don’t hesitate to ask questions, do you?”

  “Not usually,” she admitted.

  He rolled onto his stomach, propping himself on his arms.

  There was no real reason for her mouth to run dry, but it suddenly did. “Well?”

  “Yes, I slept with her.”

  Her jaw went tight.

  “I was all of six years old and she was babysitting me and my brothers,” he added. “Why’s it bother you so much?”

  “Who says it bothers me?”

  He just looked at her.

  She focused on the faint scar above his eyebrow. “She’s very beautiful now. I can only imagine what she was like when she was younger.”

  “She didn’t hold a candle to you.”

  There were probably a hundred books written about the wisdom of trusting a handsome cuss’s flattery. She’d written a blog or two about it herself.

  But he wasn’t just any handsome cuss. Not anymore.

  “I’m not fishing for compliments.”

  “Generally speaking, truth is rarely complimentary. It’s just truth.”

  Something inside her chest squeezed.

  “Come here.”

  She hesitated. But it was a lost cause. It had been from the first time he’d smiled at her. She moved off the rock to sit on the grass growing around the base of it.

  “Closer.” He extended one arm toward her, his palm up, fingers curled slightly.

  She focused on his palm, on the ridge of calluses that were plainly visible.

  He had a working man’s hands.

  Without thinking about it, she found herself moving closer to him. “When’s the last time you slept under the stars?”

  Instead of looking surprised by the odd question, he just slowly slid his palm over her forearm, setting off a rush of heat through her veins. “About a week before I met you.”

  “Out camping or something?”

  He shook his head and drew his hand down to hers. He slowly pressed his larger palm against hers and her head swam.

  “Out, uh, checking your cattle like Nathan’s been doing?”

  He shook his head again and steadily separated her fingers with his.

  She swallowed and moistened her lips. “Then why?”

  His eyes lifted to hers. They were clear brown and so much more addictive than any amount of coffee could ever be. “Because there’s no place better than being beneath the Paseo sky.”

  “To sleep?”

  He reached out his free hand and slid it along her jaw. His thumb slowly brushed against her cheek.

  She felt herself being drawn down toward him.

  “Just to be,” he murmured.

  Then his mouth slowly brushed against hers.

  Tasting.

  Tempting.

  And no matter how smart she wanted to be where he was concerned, she couldn’t stop herself from leaning into him. From tasting him in return. From parting her lips when his kiss deepened. From winding her arms around his back when he drew her down onto the soft, fragrant grass with him.

  She couldn’t stop herself from sucking in a quick breath when his hand slid over her belly, pulling up both her soaking T-shirt and the cami beneath. Or from threading her fingers through his hair when his lips followed his hand.

  “If you’re going to stop me, say so now,” he murmured as he worked his way upward, pulling the elastic-edged shelf bra above her breasts.

  She couldn’t find words if her life depended on it. She lifted up enough to finish pulling ev
erything off over her head. And then it wasn’t his hands running over her but his gaze, and she felt weak from it.

  He leaned over and kissed her butterfly tattoo. Slowly he worked his way to one nipple, then over to the pulse pounding madly at the base of her throat.

  The grass beneath her tickled her back and the heat from the afternoon sun beat down from above, glowing even when she closed her eyes.

  She wrapped her hands around his head and pulled him up to her, pressing her lips to his. “Jayden—”

  He went still. Then he levered his chest up from hers. “You want to stop.”

  She shook her head as she opened her eyes and looked up into his face. The sun was behind his head and the aura surrounding him was nearly blinding. “I want you to never stop,” she whispered.

  He was silent, while all around them, the sound of nature seemed to get louder. The buzz of grasshoppers. The warbling and chirping of birds. The squeak of the windmill.

  Then his lips brushed against her cheek. “I’ll do my best,” he murmured against her ear, before his lips burned their way once more down her neck. Past the pulse. Beyond the butterfly. He slowly kissed his way along her breasts, down the center of her belly to her navel, not stopping until he reached the button of her jeans. He freed it with a soft pop. “Lift.”

  She raised her hips and he peeled the soaking jeans and her frivolous white panties away.

  “Don’t leave me here like this alone.” She managed to slide her fingers beneath the waistband of his jeans and he caught her fingers, dragging them away. He kissed the tips of them before letting her go long enough to work out of his own wet things.

  And then he was settling against her, and she exhaled shakily, because she had never felt anything quite so momentous in her life as the weight of him. The heat of him. The need for him. As if her entire life had simply been marking time until this very moment.

  She slid her hands over his wide shoulders, down his back, all the while hovering on the agonizing precipice of waiting as his strong fingers gripped her hips, staying her motions.