“Are you sure?”
“Yep, we’re good. You get to work and leave us be so we can too.”
I turn my back on him, dismissing him, and begin pulling worksheets, pens, and a book out of my bag.
“I’ll be working nearby today, so just call my cell if you need me.”
“Fine.” I wave him off, not looking over at him. I sense him still standing behind me. Finally I turn and raise an eyebrow. “You’re still here.”
He’s watching me carefully, leaning against the countertop, his rough hands tucked in his pockets. My eyes are drawn to his biceps, straining against the sleeves of his tee. “You got really pushy.”
“I’m a teacher. It’s either be pushy or die a long, slow death. Now go. We have work to do today.”
“You’ll have lunch with us before you go.” Josh pushes himself away from the counter and saunters to the front door, grabs an old, faded-green baseball cap, and settles it backward on his head. “I’m pushy too.”
He grins and that dimple winks at me before he leaves the house, shutting the door behind him.
Good God, I will not be able to focus if he doesn’t leave us be while I’m here.
“You ready to get to work?” I ask Seth, thumbing through my writing worksheets until I find the one I want.
“This is a waste of time,” he grumbles.
“Why do you say that?”
He shrugs again and buries his face in his arms.
“Well, I don’t consider it a waste of time. What’s your favorite subject?”
No answer.
“Least favorite?”
No answer.
“I personally like math, but I always sucked at it.”
Seth shifts his head slightly and one eye peeks at me.
“Are you good at math?” I ask him.
“It’s easy.”
“Not for me.” I sigh.
“But you’re a teacher.” Seth finally sits up and frowns at me.
“That doesn’t mean I’m good at everything. Teachers aren’t superhuman or anything.”
“I can do math.”
“Okay, let’s start there.”
Seth eyes me for a minute and then shrugs. It seems shrugging is his favorite form of communication.
“Are you really going to stay and have lunch?”
“Does that make you uncomfortable?” I pass him the math worksheet.
“No, I don’t care.” He picks up a pencil and starts marking the sheet, digging right in, and I grin.
“Does the food suck?”
“No, Gram packs us a lunch every day.”
“Well then, I’ll stay.”
His lips twitch, but he doesn’t smile—yet somehow I think I just won a big battle.
“So, looks like fried chicken and potato salad, homemade rolls, and fruit.” Josh pulls the last of the food out of the ice chest and passes Seth a Coke.
“Your mom goes all out.”
“She’s been making lunch for ranch hands for almost forty years. It’s habit.”
We’re sitting on Josh’s back patio. It’s partially covered, with a hanging swing on one side and a picnic table on the other and looks out over a large meadow where cattle are grazing.
“Do you get a lot of deer back here?” I ask.
He nods and swallows. “Usually in the evening and very early mornings. A moose walked through last week.”
“That was cool,” Seth murmurs, and Josh looks up in surprise.
Does Seth never talk to him?
“Yeah, it was,” Josh agrees softly.
“Do you fish?” Seth asks me as he takes a big bite out of a chicken breast, sending golden pieces of fried batter down the front of his shirt. His dark hair is a bit too long and falls over one eye. I grin at him. He’s adorable.
“No. I hate fishing.”
“How can you hate to fish?!” Seth exclaims, as if I’d just admitted to hating ice cream.
“It’s dirty.” I wrinkle my nose and Josh bursts out laughing.
“Everything here is dirty, sweetheart.” Josh shakes his head and nudges me lightly with his elbow.
He’s such a flirt!
“But you live in Montana!” Seth exclaims, examining me as if I were a science project, his chicken momentarily forgotten.
“I live in town, Seth. Always have. My dad loves to fish. I just never really got into it.” I shrug and take a bite of delicious homemade potato salad.
“But you like horses, right?” He shovels a heaping forkful of potato salad into his mouth.
“I’ve never ridden one.” I chuckle and shake my head as I watch him eat. “Are they starving you here, Seth? The way you’re eating, you’d think you haven’t seen food in days.”
Seth just blinks at me. He slowly smiles, but I cut him off before he can voice the idea I can see forming in that sharp brain of his.
“I’m not getting on a horse.”
“Why not?” Josh asks with a broad smile.
“Well . . .” I look back and forth between the two guys and then sigh when I can’t come up with a good reason not to. “I’m not dressed for riding.”
Josh’s gaze falls to my red sundress before his brown eyes find mine again. “Wear jeans tomorrow.”
“I’m not here to learn how to ride a horse, I’m here to teach Seth.”
“No reason that you can’t do both,” Josh replies with a grin, and winks at me, his dimple creasing his cheek, waking those butterflies in my stomach.
“Am I keeping you from work?” I change the subject and pop a piece of watermelon in my mouth, doing my best not to squirm in my chair.
“I have to go paint the fence,” Seth mutters, and swigs down the last of his Coke, making me laugh.
“What?” he asks.
“When I drove up to the house and saw the white fence, I thought to myself, ‘I don’t envy the person who has to paint this every couple of years.’ ”
“It was either paint the fence or shovel the horse shit,” Seth replies matter-of-factly.
“Mouth!” Josh scowls, pinning Seth with a look, and Seth rolls his eyes.
“Horse crap.”
“I think I’d take the fence too,” I agree, but Seth just shrugs his thin shoulders and frowns. “You look so much like your dad.” I shake my head and reach for another piece of watermelon before I realize that both Seth and Josh have gone still.
“I do not,” Seth whispers.
“Well, you look just like your uncle Josh, and Josh and Zack are twins, so . . .” I tilt my head to one side and watch Seth’s face tighten.
“I’m nothing like my dad,” he insists.
“Okay, I’m sorry.”
Seth pins me with a scowl, then grabs his trash and lets himself into the house to dump it, stalks through the house, and slams the front door behind him.
“I’m sorry,” I whisper again.
“It’s okay. He’s pissed at my brother. Won’t talk about it, just won’t have anything at all to do with him.” Josh purses his lips and sighs, still watching the path Seth took through the house. My eyes are glued to his lips and I’m mortified to realize that I want him to kiss me.
And not just a sweet thank-you-for-teaching-my-nephew kiss, but a long, slow kiss that lasts forever and makes me forget how to breathe. I want to sink my fingers into his thick, dark hair and feel his large, callused hands glide down my back as he pulls me against him.
I want him to touch me.
Josh begins to pack up the remains of our lunch and I take a deep breath and join him.
“When he smiled at you earlier? That’s the first time I’ve seen him smile since he’s been here.”
“Josh, I’m so sorry. He’s a great kid, and he’s really smart. I think we’ll have him back on track with his grades without a problem.”
“Thank you.” Josh replaces the lid on the fruit and throws it in the cooler. “You know, Kyle didn’t tell me who he was sending out here. I was surprised when I saw it was you.”
<
br /> “Why?”
“I don’t know, but I’m glad you’re here. I wasn’t kidding before—you look fantastic.”
I blush and concentrate on rewrapping the chicken and placing it in the cooler.
“I’m not a hermit, Josh. Like I said before, you’ve seen me around.”
“In passing. Not like this. I like it.”
I stand up and cross my arms over my chest, then frown when he stands too and is more than a foot taller than me.
I’ve always been so damn short.
“Are you flirting with me?” I ask.
“Maybe.” He pushes the lid down on the ice chest, then moves around the table to stand right next to me, and I have to tilt my head way back to see his eyes. “You always were a little thing.”
“Little?! Oh my God.” I giggle and throw a hand over my mouth. “I’m just short. Hell, in high school I was f—”
“If you say fat, I will take you over my knee, Carolina. You were not fat then, you’re not fat now, and next to me, you are tiny.” He sets his mouth in a disapproving line and pulls on a lock of my hair. “Your pretty blond hair is soft.”
“Don’t f-flirt with me,” I stutter halfheartedly. Instead of moving away, I sway toward him, my heart racing.
“Why not?” He grins and continues to gently pull my hair between his thumb and forefinger, watching the strands as they fall out of his grasp.
“Because I’m your employee for the summer, and I like my job. It’s not like there are dozens of middle schools here in town that I can work at if I get fired.” I step away, pulling myself together, doing my best to remind myself of the blonde I saw leaving his house this morning and how I do not want to be another notch in Josh King’s bedpost. I open his sliding screen door and gather my tote bag and purse and turn to find him standing right behind me again. “I have to go.”
He sighs, props his hands on his hips, and looks as if he wants to say more, so I turn on my heel and walk briskly to the door.
“I’ll walk you out,” he mutters, and walks quickly to keep up with me. He holds his front door open for me, and I feel his hand on my lower back as he guides me to my little blue car.
He opens the door for me and settles my bags into the passenger seat.
“You’re very chivalrous,” I inform him dryly.
As I move to sit in the driver’s seat, he runs his hand down my bare arm, very much as he did with Blondie this morning, and smiles.
“Thanks for doing this, Cara. Don’t forget to wear jeans tomorrow.” With that he winks and shuts my door, stepping back to watch me drive away.
Looks like I’ll be wearing shorts tomorrow.
It’s Lauren’s turn for Love Under the Big Sky!
Keep reading for a peek at New York Times bestselling author Kristen Proby’s second installment in the Love Under the Big Sky series,
Seducing Lauren
On sale now!
CHAPTER
One
LAUREN
“Hey, Lauren.”
“Hi, Jacob, what can I do for you?” I ask with a smile, and open my front door wider for the friendly county sheriff’s deputy.
“Well, I’m serving you.” He offers me an embarrassed smile and hands me a large envelope, then backs away. “Have a good day.”
I move back inside, shut the door, and stare down at the envelope in surprise.
Served?
I rip open the envelope and see bright, flaming inferno red as I read the court document. And read it again.
“The fucker is suing me?” I exclaim to an empty room, and read the letter clutched in my now trembling hands for the third time. “Hell no!”
I grab my handbag and slide my feet into flip-flops, barely managing not to fall down the porch steps as I tear out of my house to my Mercedes and pull out of the circular driveway.
I live at the edge of Cunningham Falls, Montana. The small town was named after my great-grandfather Albert Cunningham. Ours is a tourist town that boasts a five-star ski resort and a plethora of outdoor activities for any season. Thankfully, summer tourist season is over, and ski season is still a few months away, so traffic into town is light.
I zoom past the post office and into the heart of downtown, where my lawyer’s office is. Without paying any attention to the yellow curb, I park quickly and march into the old building.
The receptionist’s head jerks up in surprise as I approach her and slam the letter still clutched in my hand on her desk.
“This,” I say between clenched teeth, “isn’t going to happen.”
“Ms. Cunningham, do you have an appointment?”
“No, I don’t have an appointment, but someone had better have time to see me.” I am seething; my breath is coming in harsh pants.
“Lauren.” My head whips up at the sound of my name and I find Ty Sullivan frowning at me from his office doorway. “I can see you. Come in.”
I turn my narrowed eyes on Ty and follow him into his office, too agitated to sit while I wait for him to shut the door and walk behind his desk.
“What’s going on?”
“I need a new lawyer.”
“What’s going on?” he asks again, and calmly leans against the windowsill behind his desk. He crosses his arms over his chest. The sleeves of his white button-down are rolled, giving me a great view of the colorful tattoo on his right arm.
“This is what’s going on!” I thrust the letter at him. “Jack is trying to sue me for half of a trust fund that he has no right to.”
Ty’s handsome face frowns as he skims the letter. “You came into the trust while you were still married?”
“Yes,” I confirm warily.
“And you didn’t tell him about it?” he asks with raised brows.
“I didn’t even know the damn thing existed until after my parents died, Ty. Until after I kicked Jack out.” I turn and pace away, breathing deeply, trying to calm down. “He doesn’t deserve a dime of my inheritance. This isn’t about money, it’s about principle.”
“I agree.” Ty shrugs. “Have you talked with Cary?”
“I was just served with the letter,” I mumble, and sink into a leather chair in defeat. “Cary’s a nice guy, but I just don’t think he’s the right lawyer for this job.” I glance up at Ty and my heart skips a beat as I take him in now that I’m calming down. He’s tall, much taller than me—which is saying something, given that I stand higher than five foot eight. He has broad shoulders and lean hips, and holy hell, the things this man does to a suit should be illegal in all fifty states.
But more than that, he’s kind and funny and has a bit of a bad-boy side to him too, hence the tattoos.
He’s been front and center in many of my fantasies for most of my life.
I bite my lips and glance down as his eyes narrow on my face.
“Why do you say that?” he asks calmly.
“It took two freaking years for the divorce to be final, Ty. I don’t want Cary to drag this out too.”
“It wasn’t necessarily Cary’s fault that the divorce took so long, Lauren. Jack had a good lawyer and your divorce was a mess.”
That’s the fucking understatement of the year. “Will you take my case?”
“No,” he replies quickly.
“What?” My dazed eyes return to his. “Why?”
He shakes his head and sighs as he takes a seat behind his desk. “I have a full load as it is, Lo.”
“You’re more aggressive than Cary,” I begin, but halt when he scowls.
“I really don’t think I can help you.”
I sit back and stare at him, stunned. “You mean you won’t.” I hate the hurt I hear in my voice, but I can’t hide it. I know Ty and I aren’t super close, but I’ve considered him a friend. I can’t believe he’s shooting me down.
He folds the letter and hands it back to me, his mouth set in a firm line and blue-gray eyes sober. “No, I won’t. Make an appointment with Cary and talk it over with him.”
My hand
automatically reaches out and takes the letter from Ty, and I’m just deeply embarrassed.
“Of course,” I whisper, and rise quickly, ready to escape this office. “I’m sorry for intruding.”
“Lo . . .”
“No, you’re right. It was unprofessional for me to just show up like this. I apologize.” I clear my throat and offer him a bright, fake smile, then beeline it for the door. “Thanks anyway.”
“Did you want to make an appointment, Lauren?” Sylvia, the receptionist, asks as I hurry past her desk.
“No, I’ll call. Thanks.”
I can’t get to my car fast enough. Why did I think Ty would help me? No one will help me.
All the connections I have in this town, all the money I have, and that asshole is still making my life a living hell.
I drive home in a daze, and when I pull up behind a shiny black Jaguar, my heart sinks further.
Today fucking sucks.
I pull my cell phone out of my bag, prepared to call for help if need be, and climb out of my car. I walk briskly past him and up the steps to the front door.
“Hey, gorgeous.”
“I told you not to come here, Jack. I don’t want to see you.” How can he still make me so damn nervous?
“Aww, don’t be like that, baby. You’re making this so much harder than it needs to be.”
I round on him, shocked and pissed all over again. “I’m the one making this hard?” I shake my head and laugh at the lunacy of this situation. “I don’t want you here. The divorce has been final for weeks now, and you have no business being here. And now you’re going to fucking sue me?”
He loses his smug smile and his mouth tightens as his brown eyes narrow. “No, I’ll tell you what will make it easy, Lauren. You paying me what’s rightfully mine is what will make it easy. You hid that money from me, and I’m entitled to half.”
“I’ll never pay you off, you son of a bitch.” I’m panting and glaring, so fucking angry.
“Oh, honey, I think you will.” He moves in close and drags his knuckles down my cheek. I jerk my head away, but he grabs my chin in his hand, squeezing until there’s just a bit of pain. “Or maybe I’ll just come back here and claim what’s mine. You are still mine, you know.”
Falling for Jillian Page 23
