A Promise to Keep Page 7

  He hopped off the stool, looking as tall and urbane as he always did in a perfectly fitted sport coat over his studiously casual striped shirt and narrow trousers. He clasped her hands in his. “Sweetheart.” Before she could evade it, he was pressing a kiss on her lips.

  His kiss wasn’t unpleasant. Nothing about Kenneth had ever been unpleasant, except his unexpected seriousness. But neither did a simple brush of his hand send heat whipping through her veins.

  She wasn’t inclined to make a scene, but she was glad when he finally lifted his head, saving her the trouble of digging her heel into his foot.

  She pulled back as far as his hands allowed her. “What are you doing here, Kenneth?”

  “You had to know I’d come after you, sweetheart.”

  She shook her head. “No. We broke up weeks ago.”

  He slid his hand along her cheek. “Absence makes the heart fonder and all that. Doesn’t every girl want a man to chase after her?”

  Piper was watching the exchange with interest. April gave her a sideways look and her friend just lifted her shoulders.

  Big help she was.

  April looked up at Kenneth’s face. Classically handsome. Impossibly neat, well-trimmed beard. The man even smelled good. On paper, that should have made him a perfect match. “How did you even know I was here?”

  “Your office, of course.” He rubbed his hands up and down her arms.

  Interesting that her office couldn’t share Gage’s whereabouts with her, yet they felt free to share hers with a former boyfriend.

  “And here tonight?”

  “Your grandma.” He smiled easily, either far more obtuse than she’d ever known or he was being deliberately oblivious. “Why don’t we go somewhere quieter?”

  “To do what? Kenneth, I thought I was clear. I’m sorry you’ve come, but—” A glimpse in the mirror on the wall above the bar caught her attention and she broke off.

  She turned to see the source of that reflection and her eyes collided with Jed’s where he stood just a few feet away. In contrast to Kenneth’s fashion sense, Jed wore ancient blue jeans and worn-down cowboy boots. His T-shirt was faded from washings rather than design. She knew, because she was pretty sure she’d folded the one he wore when she’d pulled it from Otis Lambert’s dryer. His hair was short and tousled and the only scent he carried was soap and mountain air.

  She knew that, too, because she hadn’t been able to get it out of her head.

  “But there’s, well, you see, there’s—”

  “Someone else?” Kenneth’s voice was incredulous.

  She pulled away from him, latching onto the excuse and nodding quickly. “Yes.”

  Without stopping to consider the wisdom of her actions, she went to Jed and slipped her arm through his, stretching up to brush her lips against his hard cheek. Even prepared for it, the sensation that rippled through her was more quake than ripple. “You’re late,” she said loud enough for Kenneth.

  Thankfully, Jed didn’t jerk back from her, which he could well have done. But the slow hand that traveled up the small of her back was wholly unexpected. The rough knit of her turtleneck provided no protection at all from the sensation. And the way he lifted his eyebrow slightly, it was as if he knew it.

  “Sorry,” he murmured, and then his mouth grazed over hers.

  Half a kiss.

  Less than that.

  It still felt like the earth shifted under her feet.

  Maybe he knew that, too, because his arm came around her shoulders, holding her close. Close enough to feel the heat that radiated from him. The man was like a furnace and for a woman who was often chilly, it was a cherry on the sundae.

  “Going to introduce me to your friends?” His voice was deep. Tone intimate.

  She moistened her lips, tearing her gaze from his with difficulty before looking toward Piper.

  Her friend’s eyes were wide.

  Her heart felt like it was ready to explode out of her chest. “Jed, this is Piper Madison. Friends forever. Past, present, future. And this is, ah—”

  “The old boyfriend,” Jed finished. “Kenneth, I assume.” He stuck out his big, calloused, square hand. “No hard feelings, man.”

  Kenneth looked considerably more bewildered than Piper. Obviously reluctant, he finally shook Jed’s hand. “You know about me. But I don’t know about you.”

  Jed’s lips lifted in a semblance of a smile that made the hairs on the back of April’s neck stand up like they’d done the first time she’d seen Samson on her first trip up the mountain. “Kind of how it goes, Ken,” he said casually.

  He looked past them and garnered the elusive attention of the busy bartender with a single lift of his finger. “Another round for the ladies,” he said. “What about you, Ken? You look like a scotch and soda kind of guy.”

  Kenneth pushed his hand in his pocket. He could have been posing for a catalog. “I’ll have a merlot.”

  Jed’s half smile stayed put, but April sensed he was laughing on the inside. As if he knew that Ken never drank anything harder than beer or wine.

  “You heard the man, Christian.”

  “And for you?”

  “I’m designated driver tonight. Coffee’ll do.”

  “You bet. Soda and coffee are free for DDs,” Christian said.

  “Even better.” Jed’s fingers were cupped around April’s shoulder and the way he slowly rubbed his thumb back and forth over the point of it was entirely distracting. “So, Ken. What brings you to this neck of the woods?”

  Kenneth looked from April’s face to that hand on her shoulder, then back to Jed’s. “Guess I took a wrong turn somewhere along the way.”

  Her conscience nipped. “Kenneth—”

  “Happens to the best of us,” Jed assured, as if they were just two guys discussing a missed golf putt.

  In record speed, Christian had set up their drinks and Jed had pushed the glass of wine into Kenneth’s neatly manicured fingers. With his own wrapped around the thick white coffee mug, he lifted it in a toast. “To safer travels.”

  Kenneth’s lips were thin. He was too polite to ignore the toast, though. “Safer travels,” he said evenly.

  Piper suddenly hopped off her barstool and grabbed Kenneth’s arm. “Come on, handsome. You look in need of a good ol’ two-step.”

  Once again, politeness ruled. With one last look toward April, he set aside his glass and followed her friend out onto the small, yet crowded dance floor.

  In their absence, awkwardness was quick to descend and April hurriedly stepped away from beneath Jed’s encircling arm. “Uh, thanks.” She rubbed her hands down her jeans and slid her fingertips into her back pockets. That was safer than taking her drink and pouring more alcohol on her swimming senses. “You were quick on the uptake.”

  He set his coffee mug next to the other drinks and she had the suspicion that he intended to escape while the escaping was good.

  Only instead of turning away, his eyes looked into hers.

  “Dance?”

  Chapter Six

  Dance?

  April stared up at Jed, feeling the world around them shrink away, leaving only him at the center of a pinpoint.

  His lips twisted a little at her failure to offer a coherent response, and his hand closed around hers.

  Without waiting for her agreement, he tugged her onto the dance floor and then swung her into his arms. “Don’t pretend you don’t know how to do this.” His deep voice was low against her ear.

  She could hardly breathe being pressed up so closely to him. For one, there was the incredible heat of him. For another, the man had rock-hard muscles. Like he’d been hewed from the granite rocks of Rambling Mountain.

  And lastly, the man could dance.

  He didn’t just stand there, arms around her, shuffling his worn cowboy boots an
inch here, an inch there. He could really dance.

  And simply keeping up with him kept her mind occupied enough that she actually forgot to feel awkward.

  She forgot most everything. Including keeping track of where Kenneth and Piper were and the fact that she was going to owe her best friend big-time for helping to ease that particular situation.

  When the music slowed, so did Jed.

  Instead of the whirls and twirls, she ended up pressed against him. Despite herself, her hand found the back of his neck. Her head the curve in his shoulder. She could feel the imprint of his spread fingers against her spine. “Who taught you to dance?” She sounded breathless even to her own ears.

  “My wife.”

  Everything inside her froze. She accidently stepped on his toe and her head hit his chin when she jerked it up to look at him. “You’re married?”

  As if she hadn’t turned to an inflexible board, he kept on moving, more than capably keeping her moving, also. “Not anymore.”

  She waited, but that was it.

  No explanation.

  No nothing.

  Which just left her with a pounding heart and every point of contact between her body and his feeling warm and tingly.

  And that’s when she realized that handling Kenneth would have been a much easier road.

  And one that would probably be a whole lot safer.

  She flexed her fingers against Jed’s. “Do you always come to Colbys on Friday nights?”

  “No.”

  “So it’s just my lucky day, then?”

  “Evidently.”

  A few more bars of music passed while she cast around for something to say. Anything to say that would adequately pave an escape without making her feel like even more of a fool. “H-how is Otis?”

  His brown eyes darkened even more. “Ever Otis. What were the two of you talking about the other day on the mountain?”

  “He didn’t tell you?”

  His hand tightened against her spine, and the space between them shrunk a little more. “Would I be asking if he had?”

  Breathing evenly was beginning to take an effort. “Afraid he made a deal with me behind your back?” Otis had said Jed had been with him for five years. Maybe Jed wanted the ranch.

  He didn’t look unduly concerned, though. “Did you?”

  “Otis’s interest in Stanton Development wasn’t because of the mountain.”

  “I could have told you that.” He turned her smoothly, avoiding another couple.

  Kenneth and Piper, she realized, feeling even more bemused when Piper gave her a sly wink.

  “Then you do know why he called?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “I’ve noticed that’s a habit of yours. Not saying much.”

  The corner of his lip quirked. “I said enough to get you out of trouble with the boyfriend. Who, by the way, is now heading off to a corner with your forever friend.”

  “Ex-boyfriend. Remember? And if Piper likes him, then more power to her. She could do a lot worse than Kenneth.”

  “Your castoff? You trying to say you don’t have a jealous streak?”

  “He’s not my castoff! I can’t help it if he wanted mo—” She shook herself. “There’s nothing to be jealous about. Not when it comes to Kenneth at least.” She didn’t want to think very hard about the way she’d felt when Jed had said those two words... My wife.

  She also didn’t care for the way he could so easily shift her right off course. She touched her fingertip boldly to that raised white line near his mouth. “How did you get the scar?”

  “Knife. Is the red real?”

  Her breath seemed to stop up somewhere in the middle of her chest. Knife? “If you ever saw my mother, you wouldn’t need to ask.” Nikki Reed’s hair was as vibrantly red now as it had been when April was a child.

  She was vaguely aware another song had started. Laughing women were clustering all around them, stomping boots, clapping hands, sliding forward, sliding back.

  Line dancing.

  But he didn’t move.

  Nor did she.

  “Otis told me he has a will.”

  If she hadn’t been watching him closely, she would have missed the flicker deep within his dark gaze. She didn’t know if it was relief or something else.

  “He tell you what’s in it? Where he’s stashed it?”

  She shook her head and moistened her lips. “Do you have a plan for yourself? For...after?”

  “Until someone makes me stop, I’ll keep doing what Otis brought me here to do. Keeping the cattle alive and healthy to get ’em to sale.”

  “It’s always possible that Otis could leave the ranch to you.”

  He shook his head. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “We don’t agree on what he should’ve done with the land.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  He just shook his head. “The only thing Otis wants from me after he’s gone is to bury him on his mountain. That’s as far as my plans go.”

  She couldn’t bear it. She slid her arms around his neck and pressed her cheek to his. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “He’s lucky to have you.”

  “It’s the other way around.” He closed his hands around her forearms and gently pulled them down. Let her go. “The music’s stopped.”

  Chilled, she pushed her fingertips in her back pockets and looked down, letting her hair fall forward over her cheeks as they walked away from the dance area.

  The drinks were still waiting on the bar, though when she looked for Kenneth and Piper there was no sign of them. Another couple had commandeered their barstools. Music was quickly pounding again. Garth and his friends in low places rocking through the bar.

  April took one sip of her drink, but set it back down and flagged down Christian.

  He had to lean toward her over the bar top to hear her.

  “If my friend Piper comes back, would you tell her I left?” She pulled a bill out of her pocket and slid it to him.

  He nodded and slipped the bill into the glass behind the bar with a wad of others.

  She tugged her jacket free where it was still hanging on the barstool, earning an annoyed “excuse me!” look from the woman who’d taken the seat. She made sure her phone and keys were still in the pocket and started for the door.

  Jed followed. “Where are you going now?”

  “Home.” At least to the Double-C. She pushed through the door and went outside, but stopped at the sight of snowflakes floating in the light cast off by the lampposts.

  “You’ve been drinking.”

  She gave him a look. She hadn’t finished even half of her first drink. She had taken one sip of the second. “Want to give me a sobriety test?” Not waiting for an answer, she pulled the front of her jacket closer together and headed down the sidewalk toward the parking spot where she’d left her car.

  His footsteps followed her.

  She whirled on her heel. “Oh for heaven’s sake. I’m sober as a judge!”

  “Good for you.”

  “Then what are you doing? Following me?”

  “Doing the same thing as you.” He held up his hand. A key dangled from it. “Home.”

  She swiped a snowflake from her nose and started off again. Her cheeks felt hot. Redheads’ curse.

  And again, his footsteps sounded behind her.

  There were cars and trucks and SUVs slanted into the parking spots all the way down the block. It was reasonable that one of them was his.

  “How’d you meet Loverboy?”

  She flipped up her collar and quickened her step. Half a block to go. She didn’t look back at him, but raised her voice so he’d hear her. “How’d your chin get sliced by a knife?”

  “One of those online romances? Www-dot-getadat
e?”

  Despite herself, her lips twitched.

  She schooled her expression and shot him a look over her shoulder. “You talking about me, or the source of your knifer?”

  He lifted his hand. “Hey, watch—”

  Her shoulder bounced hard and she stumbled, grabbing the lamppost she’d walked into. “Oh that’s just perfect.” She righted her course, determined not to rub the pain in her shoulder.

  “You all right?”

  She rolled her shoulder, grimacing a little. “Right as rain,” she assured without looking back. She realized she was starting to walk faster, but there wasn’t any way to slow down without looking obvious. Sort of like pretending she hadn’t just plowed into a lamppost.

  Meanwhile, his footsteps behind her were steady as ever.

  She shoved her hands in her pockets. Clasped her car key in her fist. Quarter block now. Parked in front of the feed store, next to a pickup truck that was more about fancy wheels and special lights than it was about utility.

  “Bar fight.”

  She stopped walking and turned to face him.

  “In Texas. Five years ago.” He stopped walking, too. Right beside the lamppost she’d run into. The light shining down on his head made his hair look vaguely reddish. “Same night I met Otis.”

  She absorbed that. Then frowned. “Wait. He wasn’t the one who—”

  His lips stretched. He didn’t try to close the distance between them. “No.”

  She let out a breath. “Oh. That’s good, then. Is that where you come from? Texas?” He didn’t have any sort of drawl that would have given it away. In fact, when he did string more than two words together, his speech bore no hint toward any particular region at all. “Is working cattle in your blood?”

  He actually smiled outright at that. “Everything I know about working cattle came from the School of Hard Ranching according to Otis Lambert.”

  That smile was so arresting she actually started to take a step toward him.

  “He’s the one who bailed me out,” he added. “Stitched me up.”

  She froze again. “Bailed?”

  “Bar fight,” he said again. As if that were the only explanation a person needed. His hand flipped. “Your turn.”