Jen’s shoulders relaxed on a rush of warmth. A child’s laugh had never sounded so sweet.
After setting the muddy footwear on the porch steps, Jen put on a clean pair of boots and made her way around to the nearest guest wing. She heard the thump and creak of a truck bed being loaded as she rounded the corner. Colt’s pickup was parked in front of the open door, tailgate down.
Moments later, Colt appeared, hauling a covered bucket. He halted at the sight of her, then ducked his head and eased past her, sliding the bucket onto the truck bed between two others with more focus than necessary.
Jen tensed. “What are you doing?”
“Storing water for Diamond.” He spun and walked away, saying over his shoulder as he entered the guest room, “He didn’t take to the taste in Longview last year.”
Longview? Jen stilled. Texas. He was packing for Texas.
She followed him inside and closed the door.
Colt stood in front of the dresser, pulling out drawers, scooping up the contents and dumping them into his overnight bag.
“If we leave first thing tomorrow, we can both make the next competition without having to break our necks to get there.” He emptied another drawer. “I called Tammy. She’s booking us some rooms at that same motel we stayed in last year. Cheap but decent.”
Jen eyed the set of his shoulders and his jerky movements. She was so tempted to agree. To throw her own things in a bag and spend the next hour planning out the fastest route to Longview.
But Margaret’s mud-slicked sneakers were busy baking under the sun. And Margaret was probably at the creek right now, splashing in the water with Cissy’s girls, laughing and soothing herself with the knowledge that her shoes might regain some life tomorrow with Jen’s help.
The wave of guilt sweeping through Jen overpowered her longing to abandon the plan and return to the circuit immediately. She couldn’t break her word to Margaret or encourage Colt to do the same.
“Have you thought this through, Colt?” she asked.
His T-shirt strained over the thick muscles of his back as he lifted his overnight bag, then dropped it on top of the dresser. “We have to leave soon if we want to make the first round.”
“What about Margaret?”
He slammed the middle drawer shut with his knee. “We swing through Atlanta, drop her off, then take a shortcut to the interstate. Won’t lose but a few hours.”
“Is that all?” Jen asked softly. “I think you stand to lose a lot more than that.”
His broad hands stilled over the bag.
“I know I was against this,” she said. “No one hates leaving the circuit more than I do, and if this is really what you want then I’m all for it. But I think you were right about Margaret needing a break.”
“This was a mistake,” he said. “It’s not working.”
“We’ve barely started and we’ve never been quitters. If we were to give up now, I’d think you’d regret it before we crossed the state line.”
Colt shook his head. “I was foolish to think I could pull this off. She’s doing worse here than she was there. You saw her earlier.”
“Yeah. I did. I saw her have a healthy cry. One I suspect was long overdue. You’re not alone in this, Colt. I’m with you. Dom and Cissy are with you. We’re all ready and willing to help. But this won’t work if you don’t open up.” Jen moved close, placing a hand on his back. “I think it’d be good for you to take some time for yourself, too. Take time to grieve—”
“I don’t know what you want from me, Jen,” he bit out, yanking the zipper shut on the bag.
“Just talk to me,” she said. “Tell me what you’re feeling.”
“I don’t feel anything.” He shrugged off her touch, strode across the room and slumped on the edge of the bed.
“You just lost your father,” she whispered. “I know you feel something—”
“I don’t feel a damn thing, because I barely knew him. Is that what you want to hear?” He balled his fists on his knees, the knuckles turning white. “He was never around and the times he did show up, all he did was criticize or judge. Margaret and I were no more than possessions to him. Something to show off at parties. A way to pass himself off as a family man.” Colt refused to look at her, staring over her left shoulder. “He was a cold, heartless bastard and I hated hi—”
His voice broke, a ragged breath lifting his chest. He dropped his head into his hands and his shoulders jerked.
Jen sat at his side and pulled him close. She smoothed her fingers through his blond hair and tugged gently at the back of his neck, bringing his face to her chest and cradling him. His strong arms slipped around her waist, squeezing so hard the painful grip stole the air from her lungs. But she held on.
“I’m sorry, Colt,” she whispered, rocking him gently back and forth. “So sorry.”
He didn’t make a sound, but his body shook and he slid his face down, burying it against her belly. Her shirt grew damp under his cheek, her heart beating harder with every silent heave of his shoulders and renewed bout of moist warmth soaking into her middle. She paused every few minutes to wipe away tears of her own and held back as many as she could.
Finally, his hold on her loosened and he raised his head. He opened his mouth but hesitated, no sound emerging.
The bereft expression crossing his striking features stabbed her chest. She leaned in, dropping soft kisses over his forehead, cheeks and bearded jaw, hoping to lessen the heavy shadows hanging over him.
He looked at her then, his blue eyes welling, tears clinging to the ends of his thick lashes. She pressed gentle kisses there, too. The taste of salt touched her tongue as his eyelids fluttered shut.
His strong hand slid into her hair, palm cupping the back of her head and fingers kneading her nape. “Jen?”
The husky whisper had barely escaped when he touched his mouth to hers.
Her belly fluttered at the light, coaxing movements of his lips. A gentle throb began in her belly, then moved through her blood, clouding her thoughts but heightening her senses. His masculine scent enveloped her, and each stroke of his callused fingers against her skin sent more thrills through her body.
Colt drew back with heavy breaths, his gaze lingering on her mouth and a plea lighting his eyes. Grief hung thickly around them, removing logic and obscuring good intentions.
Trembling, Jen rested her palms against the hard wall of his chest. She should say no and sidestep regret before it had a chance to edge between them. Let him go; stand up and leave him to grieve in private.
But her body ached to comfort him. And her heart strained to absorb his pain.
She moved closer, sliding her arms around his back and parting his lips with hers. “Yes.”
* * *
COLT OPENED HIS eyes and blinked, adjusting to the darkness surrounding him. A weak ray of light pierced the dark interior of the room. Gentle air whispered over his bare chest and he glanced down, breath catching at the fiery spill of red hair across his skin.
Jen. He closed his eyes. God forgive him.
His hands tightened around her, the graceful curves of her shoulder and hip filling his palms. The tips of his fingers tingled from the silky feel of her skin. Just as they had hours earlier when he’d unhooked her bra, then smoothed gentle circles over her back. When he’d unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down her legs, his mouth tracing her toned thighs.
He gritted his teeth, attempting to tamp down the enticing thoughts. Even now, his tongue drifted over his bottom lip, seeking one more sweet taste of her kiss. Wanting to hold on to her as long as possible.
His heart tripped in his chest, the jolt sending a chill through him. He shouldn’t have done it. Shouldn’t have kissed her or taken comfort in her sweet warmth. But her gentle touch had filled the dark hollow in his gut and brigh
tened his gloom. And when her body had wrapped as tightly around him as her soothing whisper, he’d surrendered completely. He’d focused solely on the pleasurable throb in his blood and her welcoming embrace.
Colt held his breath and moved carefully, easing Jen onto the pillow as he slid from beneath her. A quiet murmur escaped her and she shifted into a more comfortable position, settling back to sleep.
Colt sat up on the thick mattress and dropped his bare feet to the hardwood floor. He rubbed his palms over his thighs, savoring the last hum of sleep pulsing through him, reluctant to leave Jen’s side. But he forced himself to pad over to the window.
He pushed the curtains back and cracked opened the window to discover a chorus of croaks and chirps drifting on the warm breeze. The sun had almost set and dusk was falling. He and Jen had spent a little over an hour in bed.
He hooked his fingers on top of the window frame, dropped his head and leaned forward, stretching the muscles of his shoulders and neck. Sighing, he raised back up and surveyed the moonlit ranch outside.
Raintree’s grounds were peaceful, the riding trails, pond and wide, grassy fields empty. He could just make out the low lights escaping from the stables down the hill. The hands’ silhouettes moved in and out of it, performing the evening duties, their laughter ringing in the night air.
He smiled. Raintree was more beautiful than he remembered. Every corner of it was full of laughter and comforts, the kind of supportive and rejuvenating surroundings he’d hoped would help Meg...
Margaret. He squeezed his eyes shut, gut churning.
At the quiet rustle of sheets, he glanced over his shoulder. Jen’s knees drew up toward her chest, her red curls dancing over her back with the push of the breeze.
Colt crossed the room and reached for the blanket, tugging it up from the foot of the bed and drawing it over her. His eyes followed the trail of beard-burn marks scattered over her pale thighs, hips and breasts, her bare limbs shivering as he covered them.
That hurts.
Margaret’s words from days ago returned. Colt shook his head and rubbed a hand over his face, his palm rasping against his beard. Margaret had refused his offer of comfort so abruptly that he wondered if she’d ever been hugged.
He cringed. Knowing his cold father, she probably hadn’t. But their father had taught Margaret other things. She’d learned to remain detached and unfeeling to the point of not being able to stand anyone’s touch. Least of all Colt’s. Because in her eyes, he was an absent and uncaring son of a bitch like their father. And up to this point, he had been.
Still was, in fact. He should never have considered leaving Raintree after the first setback. And he should’ve been with Margaret for the past hour instead of lying in bed seeking comfort with Jen.
Colt sat beside Jen and brushed a strand of hair from her face. His hand stilled, a realization hitting him hard in the gut.
He’d never returned to the same bed after leaving a woman in it. Had always grabbed his things and left, never looking back or seeking anything permanent. But none of those women had been Jen, and he found himself wanting to stay. Wanting to sink right back into the mattress, gather her against his chest and cling to the comforting warmth he’d discovered in her arms a few hours ago.
Only, that would mean putting his own interests before Margaret’s. An act that would make him no better than his father—a man who had chosen his career and a succession of wives over his children.
Careful not to wake her, he brushed a kiss across Jen’s brow, then tucked the cover more securely around her shoulders. He grabbed his bag and edged into the small bathroom.
Flicking on the fluorescent light above the sink, he winced at the bright glare and studied his face in the mirror. It was so similar to John W. Mead’s. The same eyes and nose. A Mead man through and through. The kind of man who never stuck around and always took the easy way out. One who would ship Margaret off to boarding school for most of her life. One who would pack his bags, load his truck and take off, leaving Margaret behind without a second thought.
You’re more like your father than you think.
Colt raked his nails through his beard, the phrase cutting through him. He’d done everything possible to rebel against his father. Had left home for the circuit, refused to take part in his father’s business and grown a beard to hide the features that looked so similar to a man he no longer respected. And by doing so, he’d become no better than his father.
Colt straightened. It was time to stop running. He may look like John W. Mead but he was a different man. A better one. A man who would live up to his responsibilities and put his family first.
He dug his shaving kit out, retrieved a razor and got started.
Ten minutes later, he tossed the dull blade in the trash and unstopped the sink, running a hand over his clean-shaven jaw as the dirty water gurgled away.
“Colt?”
He heard the bed creak, then shuffling movements and the light click on.
Heart stalling, he dressed quickly then stepped out of the bathroom.
“Colt—” Jen jerked to a stop in the middle of the room, her hesitant smile slowly melting away as she paused in the act of buttoning her jeans.
His face heated and he swept a hand over his cheek. “You don’t like it.”
She blinked and shook her head, her shiny hair spilling over her shoulders. “No. I mean, yeah. I do.” She adjusted the collar of her T-shirt and cleared her throat. “I like it. It’s just...different.”
Different. Colt blew out a rough breath. Different like the strength of the feelings coursing through him. Feelings he’d always had for Jen but ones which had intensified.
“I’m sorry, Jen.” Colt cringed at the strained sound of his voice, his hands spreading helplessly in front of him. “I didn’t mean for things to go as far as they did.”
“It’s okay,” she said quietly. “I wanted to. It was...” Her face flushed and a small smile emerged. “I enjoyed it.”
So had he. And if circumstances were different, her tender grin would be a welcome relief.
The hopeful expression on Jen’s face made his chest clench painfully at what he had to do. Colt looked away, focusing on the flutter of the curtains over the window and digging deep for the right words.
“I think you were right about staying,” he said. “I’d like to give things with Margaret another try and I could still use your help.” He sucked in a strong breath. “I want you, Jen. But I need to concentrate on rebuilding a relationship with Margaret and I think it’s best if my attention is on her right now. What we just did doesn’t have to change anything between us,” he stressed, trying to convince himself as much as her. “We can pretend it didn’t happen. Forget...”
Forget the sweet taste of her skin against his tongue. Like warm honey. The soft press of her breasts against his chest. Like—
“We can forget it happened,” he choked out, facing her. “Go back to the way things were.”
Jen’s expression dimmed and her smile vanished. “Yeah.” She ducked her head and moved toward the door, her long hair obscuring her face and muffling her words. “That’s probably for the best.”
“Red?” Colt forced himself to root his boots to the floor and ball his hands into fists to prevent himself from reaching for her. He could endure her disappointment in him but not the thought of her feeling betrayed by him. “Nothing happened between me and Autumn. I left that bar with her, but that’s as far as it went. And that’s the God’s honest truth.”
Jen’s hand stilled on the doorknob and her back stiffened. She stayed silent for a few moments, then asked, “Why tell me this now?”
“Because I know what you’re thinking.” His throat tightened and it hurt to speak. “And I won’t be that guy anymore, you know? Not with you.”
She looked over her shoulde
r, her features clouded with confusion.
“Your friendship means more to me than any fling ever could.” He shook his head. “I won’t risk losing that. I won’t treat you the way I treated other women.”
Her features cleared and her eyes turned sad. “But despite all of your good intentions, isn’t that exactly what you’re doing now? Pushing me away? Reminding me of my place?”
His lungs constricted, making it hard to drag in a breath. “No. That’s not—”
“Let’s forget about it, Colt. Just like you said.” She sighed heavily. “It’s getting late. Margaret’s probably looking for us. I told her I’d take her shopping tomorrow, and you’ve got enough to deal with right now.” Her face flushed, her tone hardening. “Besides, it’s my fault. I knew the score going in.”
Colt stood still after she left, listening as the spring chorus of night life filled the room, and waited for the familiar relief to set in. The kind he’d felt after every other sexual encounter had ended. The one he experienced when he was alone again. Free of obligation to a woman.
But it never came. And the hours he spent tossing and turning that night proved the emptiness on the other side of the bed had crept its way into his heart.
Chapter Seven
Jen bent, slipped the jeans under the dressing room door and wiggled them. “These are the last two styles in your size, Margaret. How are the shirts working out? Do you need me to grab you a few more?”
“No, thank you.” A small hand shot out and tugged the jeans into the dressing room. “I think I found some I like.”
Jen’s shoulders sagged and she smiled. Thank goodness.
It’d taken an hour to make the drive from Raintree to Trudy’s Treasures, which, according to Cissy, was the best clothing store near the ranch. It’d taken another hour for Margaret to browse the entire clothing section and the past hour for her to try on every garment within her size range. And this had all begun at nine o’clock this morning, after they’d spent the first two hours of daylight banging the mud off Margaret’s sneakers and scrubbing them with a toothbrush until they were pink again.
The Bull Rider's Cowgirl Page 9
