by Cait London
“A neighbor drove it to my ranch. I knew when you said Jonah had picked you up and that you were staying at his place, that you’d do this to yourself,” Pax said quietly as he drove toward his ranch.
“Mmm,” she murmured, too drained to nap. Jonah’s wounding was deeper than she believed at first. He’d hovered in the shadows too long, clinging to memories and refusing to enjoy life, blaming himself for Grace’s death. He’d cherished his daughter above himself.
“You took his pain, didn’t you, Harmony?”
“He needed sleep.”
“And you didn’t? You could have rested, or asked me to help you.”
“You wouldn’t have wanted to know Jonah’s thoughts last night,” she muttered.
“He’s on the edge. Janice and I have been trying to get him to visit, but Jonah doesn’t want to intrude.” Pax looked sharply at Harmony and asked incredulously, “Jonah Fargo caused you to lose your temper? You threw cupids on him and he looked cute in lace shorts with mistletoe tucked over his ears? He wore a big red bow?”
Harmony flicked him an irritated look, then closed her eyes. She hadn’t meant to think of Jonah like that. Pax’s abilities were still active, but then he’d always been tapped into her thoughts. When they were young, he teased her at every turn— if he wasn’t caring for her, protecting her from the cruelty of other children. “Lay off,” she ordered mildly, then blanked her mind.
“Well... well,” Pax murmured in a tone she didn’t trust. “And you think he’s sweet in a way, do you?”
Then he began to laugh loudly and tears formed in his eyes.
Harmony mentally pictured a big glass of ice water and dashed it on Pax. He shook his head, shivered and chuckled. “You just defended him. You can understand his grief and his guilt. This should be really interesting.”
Pax hadn’t lost his ability to torment her, she decided as she noted a passing coulee— a small ravine cut through the plains. Her brother had picked up one soft thought— how she could understand Jonah’s grief— and threw it at her. “Jonah has powers, Pax. They are emerging and he’s edgy. That’s the only reason he thought of me as desirable. He’s off-center right now and not thinking clearly. He’s a physical person who acts instantly and he’s uncomfortable with deep thoughts.”
“Jonah Fargo is the clearest-thinking man I know. He’s got a mind that goes from A to B to C. He acts fast in critical situations, like jumping into the Missouri River to save a life when everyone else was planning and worrying. He saved a three-year-old boy last year. He’s thorough and—”
“Toss sex-hungry and smirking in there someplace,” Harmony added too sharply. “All he could think about was some woman named June. I really didn’t appreciate being a third party to his plans for the night. The steam was almost coming out his ears. It was disgusting.”
Harmony refused to shiver one more time because of Jonah Fargo. She liked her life organized, smooth and without confrontations.
Jonah was a living confrontation if she ever saw one. She resented his thought that she was exotic and curvy and that he wanted to kiss the strawberry birthmark on her buttock and nuzzle her breasts. Mr. Little Sweetheart Fargo was a physically oriented man to her mental-contemplative personality. The equation was like that of water and oil.
His “little darlin’ remark had really stripped away her control. She gripped the bells on her wrist, staying the tiny jingles as her hand trembled. For just a moment before her cupid escapade— her first act of revenge— she’d wanted to fling herself at him.
Sensing thoughts other than her own, Harmony slammed down a mental curtain; Pax’s lesser abilities needed slower thoughts and she refused to feed them to him.
“June has been after him for years. Jonah must be weakening,” Pax stated thoughtfully.
“Not in some areas. You’d think he was half his age,” Harmony muttered, fully awake now, anger tugging at her nerves. She tossed aside Jonah’s steamy thoughts. He’d been confused, no doubt, aching for June.
What’s age got to do with it? And, sis, you sound just a touch jealous of June.
Harmony leveled a stare at him and thought serenely, Pax. Take a note. I do not want to think-chat about Jonah.
“I hope you brought lots of chamomile tea,” Pax murmured, not bothering to shield his grin. “I know you like a cup now and then to settle your nerves… and don’t threw any more ice water on me. It’s cold enough.”
~**~
Chapter Four
Two weeks later, on Christmas Eve, Jonah kicked the snow from his boots. Snow spread endlessly into the moonlight, covering the wheat fields. The walkway leading to Pax’s house had been meticulously shoveled, then swept.
In the light from the lamppost, Jonah’s boots still looked scuffed, though he had polished them twice.
He closed his eyes. He was scuffed all over, tough as old leather. He dreaded the holiday season, and Christmas didn’t fit into his world. Meeting Harmony hadn’t helped. Dreaming about full-bodied women wearing see-through nighties had jarred him into another realm of problems.
Sweet as honey and tempting as melted butter over fresh-baked bread kisses hadn’t helped, either. Jonah didn’t want to think about what might have happened if she’d opened her lips to him.
Harmony out-and-out scared him; around her, he danced on the edge of excitement. Jonah had wanted to get under that smooth voice, that practiced grace and rev her motor like she was starting his.
He’d acted cocky as a kid and about as starved for woman flesh. And he’d invited her into his bed without sweet talk or a bouquet of flowers. Any woman, even an off-center one like Harmony, deserved better than his crude invitation.
Invitation? That was a lacy cover for his sleazy ultimatum. Jonah inhaled the freezing air, letting it cut into his lungs. Harmony had stood her ground and threw it back at him. He reluctantly admired her for that.
He released his breath. But it was something else about Harmony, too. He had fanciful need to linger in that sweet little girl’s arms. Sweet little girl, he repeated mentally, reminded at once of how his father had lovingly called his mother, “sweet little girl.”
Harmony was more like a burr under Jonah’s saddle. Her mind-reading ideas belonged in a carnival swami’s tent.
Coincidences happened, like when he desperately needed a distraction from the crying, just a few minutes to rest: Shrimp had pushed a chair to the radio on the kitchen counter and had leapt up to push the button. Jonah’s favorite music— the upbeat rock and roll—had instantly spread through the house.
“Coincidence,” he muttered. Things just happened at a time that paralleled Jonah’s thoughts. Like wondering if Fancy Ledbetter, a seventeen-year-old neighbor, was taking good care of her barrel-racing pony. Then Fancy telephoned him about the pony’s new tricks.
He glanced up at the holly wreath and twinkling lights over Pax Davis’s door and inhaled. It was two weeks since he’d seen Harmony and he wasn’t looking forward to this encounter.
But Pax had called just after a book had turned to the page that Jonah had wanted; he hadn’t touched the pages.
Shaken by the event and blaming it on the house’s drafts, he’d jumped at Pax’s offer of spending Christmas Eve with the Davis family. After he hung up the phone, Jonah remembered Harmony and how she and her weird ideas disturbed him. He’d had a nightmare of cupids fluttering around him and peeking up his shorts while he was awake and standing on his feet.
Before the cupids bushwhacked him, he’d just gotten into the swing of tormenting her, watching her eyes glow like a tiger’s; she was bristling nicely and he’d really started to enjoy his revenge for her invading his life.
Cupids. Her cupid necklace must have set him off, triggering some lost memory of Valentine’s Day.
Jonah tightened his lips. Cupids weren’t on the menu tonight. He would enjoy a good meal and maybe cuddle Pax’s two little girls. He’d enjoy whatever “boy” treasures five-year-old Jimmy had to show him. Later, Janice
would fix him a take-home sack of good food and he’d drive into Fort Thorville and spend the night in a motel overlooking the old Missouri River. He’d even play rock and roll as Shrimp’s present. They’d share leftover turkey sandwiches and relax. He might even sing along with the music.
He’d do anything but return to his empty house.
Jonah was stretched so taut that he just thought he’d read other persons’ thoughts. This past week had been especially bad. The last-minute shoppers in the department store worried about bills and if the Christmas turkey would feed everyone. A young mother hovered near the toys, wishing she could buy a nice doll for her daughter.
Lucky Halfpenny, who pictured himself as the local ladies’ man, was thinking of ways to meet Pax’s sister. Lucky was quiet, but he seemed worried about her favorite drink. He hoped it wasn’t too expensive, but guessed that she might be worth the cost if she got really friendly. Suddenly, Lucky had stopped thinking and Jonah found that he had been glaring at him over the men’s dress shirts.
“New lady in town,” Lucky had explained as he prowled through the shirts. “Not that you’re interested in getting duded up for females.”
Lucky had glanced at Jonah carelessly before returning to his selection of a shirt. “Reckon you’ve worn those clothes for this century. May as well wear ‘em into the next.”
“Women like me for my charm,” Jonah had muttered in his defense.
He was just counting the number of ironed patches on his best jeans when the salesclerk glanced at him. Jonah caught the impression that the clerk had envied Harmony’s black crushed velvet dress with the low V-bodice. She’d worn it to a Christmas party the week before.
A pink shirt in hand, Lucky swooshed toward the checkout counter like a bandit ready to pounce. Jonah blinked as a storm of masculine thoughts hit him— and they weren’t his thoughts, either: Harmony’s black party dress sure was something. He’d look good in the new pink shirt; Harmony would look good in it on the morning after, while she cooked his breakfast. After she did a load or two of his laundry, maybe he’d suck her toes. He worshiped full-bodied women like Harmony who could fill out V-necklines and whose nice soft breasts—
Lucky’s leer was easily read by Jonah… though he wasn’t a mind reader.
Because of her obvious devotion to Roderegas, Shrimp was the only dog allowed in the store. She had plopped down next to Jonah’s boots and wondered dreamily what brand of dog food that Roderegas liked best…
Standing out in the cold night with the snow covered plains around him, the twinkle lights dancing up on Pax’s rooftop, Jonah gritted his back teeth.
He might be losing his mind, but he was no psychic, he thought as the door of Pax’s home opened and a woman too tall to be Janice raced toward him. She crushed something bulky to her, four thick streamers flying from the bundle. Another short thick streamer coming from her head had a ball on the end of it.
“Behave, sweetheart,” he ordered Shrimp as the collie raced past him, yipping happily as though greeting an old friend.
“Hi, and shush,” Harmony whispered urgently to the dog. Then Shrimp grinned and Harmony hurriedly continued toward Jonah.
The shape of her legs below the sweater like dress momentarily distracted Jonah. He truly did appreciate a woman with strong legs— not bulky, but not that skinny, either.
“No,” he stated firmly as something slashed into his mind. Then he backed up several steps as Harmony continued toward him. His back hit the pickup as he gathered his presents for the Davises into one arm and stuck out a protective hand with the other.
“No. I am not wearing that Santa Claus suit,” he said firmly, startling himself.
Harmony stopped in front of him and tilted her head, sending a long, untamed spill of curls over her shoulder. “So, Jonah. If you can’t read my thoughts, how did you know that I want you to wear this Santa Claus suit?” she challenged saucily with an I’ve-got-you smirk.
Jonah inhaled slowly. Just because Harmony knew how to set him off, he wasn’t admitting to imaginary powers. Living alone probably made him more sensitive to expressions and the movements of other people… like a lone wolf picking up scents and sorting through them. Everything had a reason, Jonah reminded himself firmly as he said, “You running toward me... wearing a Santa hat and carrying a pillow... and the red suit decorated in white was a real clue. Black shiny fake boots like that don’t leave room for error, lady.”
He wanted to kiss Harmony again, to pick her up and cuddle her on his lap in the pickup and steam up the windows, tasting her sweet-as-meadow-wildflower kisses. She’d look pretty as a newborn calf in her black nightie and that Santa Claus hat.
Jonah must have moved toward Harmony because she took a step backward. Then he realized he hadn’t moved.
Shrimp was watching the humans with interest; Jonah sensed the dog was plotting something about later under the mistletoe.
“No,” Harmony said firmly. “We’re not repeating that scenario. You make one move on me, Jonah, and I’ll—” She frowned and shook her head, thrusting the clothes at him. “You couldn’t have known about the boots. They were hidden by the pillow. And how do you know they’re fake anyway? They are just cover-ups, by the way. Put them over the top of yours. Don’t argue. Just get into these clothes while I go get the children’s presents from the barn.”
“Give me one good reason why I should, boss lady.” Jonah resented her waving his guesses in his face and proclaiming them to be evidence of sensory powers. In his lifetime, no one pushed Jonah Fargo. Maybe it was time that Harmony learned a lesson or two—
“You look awful, Jonah. Worse than when I met you,” she said suddenly in a soft concerned tone, tilting her head to study him. Before Jonah could rap out a comeback, Harmony placed her hands along his cheeks, drew him down to her level and planted a gentle kiss on his lips. He glimpsed Christmas trees and happy children and loving families.
“Take care of yourself, Jonah,” she whispered before stepping back, her eyes luminous and huge in the dim light.
Jonah realized that little kept him from reaching out for her; he dug his fingers into the pillow. He swallowed and looked down at her, trying to find his balance and what he was going to say before she kissed him. He felt as if he were swaying in the freezing wind and Harmony was his only safety. Nettled because she caused emotions he didn’t want and thoughts he didn’t understand, Jonah drawled, “You need to control yourself, little sweetheart. A man gets ideas real quick when a woman kisses him.”
Harmony’s eyes widened momentarily, then narrowed ominously. “I don’t have time to deal with you now, Jonah. So this is how it’s going to be—”
She shook her head and closed her eyes as though she were about to leap over a cliff and should know better. Then she reached over the pillow and clothing in his arms to tug his head down to hers. With her soft mouth beneath his, Jonah went down like the proverbial ton of bricks. In his mind, he saw excited children gathered around a twinkling Christmas tree, waiting to open their presents. He saw himself in a Santa Claus suit, making Pax’s family very happy. He saw himself grinning with the sheer joy of living—
With the air of a woman who had just completed a difficult mission, Harmony stepped back from him. Jonah looked at her and knew that she’d done something contrary and suspicious to him. But he couldn’t worry about that now, though, because Pax’s family was waiting for Santa Claus.
“I didn’t want to do that, but I was desperate,” Harmony stated breathlessly. “I knew you wouldn’t go down easy. The children are counting on Santa Claus and the pants won’t fit over Pax’s cast. He’s not supposed to be on his feet anyway. The accident just happened this afternoon. He thought he could leap from the roof of one shed to another and missed. Just stuff yourself into this suit and try for a little Christmas spirit. Please,” Harmony added as an afterthought before she hurried toward the barn.
Jonah tried to focus on the rooftop’s twinkle lights and remember what he was goin
g to teach Harmony. He sniffed the cinnamony scent she’d swirled around him and wondered how she had netted and poleaxed him.
Shrimp looked anxiously up at Jonah. The beard that had dropped in the Santa Claus clothes shuffle dangled from her mouth. She was begging him to not be obnoxious and spoil her fun; they wouldn’t be asked back and she was really tired of his company. Then Jonah received a notion that Shrimp wanted him to “go with the flow.” She was asking him to make the evening a pleasant one and not disgrace her. An obscure doggie prayer slipped through Jonah’s mind. It involved catching Roderegas beneath the mistletoe and vamping him.
Jonah braced his back against the pickup and clutched the costume and gifts in his arms while he tried to surface from whatever hit him. Meanwhile, he watched Shrimp race after Harmony. His eyes locked to the fast sway of Harmony’s rounded hips.
Jonah’s fingers clutched the soft pillow. Harmony had a real nice round backside.
Minutes later, he buckled the wide Santa belt. He adjusted the pillow covering his stomach and mourned his life since he’d met Harmony Davis. Within heartbeats of seeing her again, his life was slanting at a disastrous pitch. As soon as was polite, he was leaving for the safety of his motel room and the comfort of rock and roll music. If he lived this night down, he’d hole up and decide what to do about Miss Harmony Davis, with her nice backside and her dingy ideas.
~**~
Harmony swirled her cinnamon stick in her hot apple cider and studied the two cloves in the bottom of her glass cup. The cloves didn’t match, just like Jonah and herself.
At least cider-soaked cloves weren’t combustible, she decided moodily, as she eased to sit on the arm of the sofa.
Harmony inhaled sharply, then stuck another homemade cheese stick in her mouth. Her nervous eating malady jumped into high gear when she thought of Jonah. She shifted restlessly on the arm of the couch; she didn’t like moods and she wasn’t going to be susceptible to Jonah’s deep chuckles as the children crawled over his lap and he gifted them with presents from his bag.
