He sat up, glancing down. “Sexy.” He flopped back down beside her.
She shook her head, stroking the side of his face.
His hand covered hers as he leaned down to kiss her.
“Jo...” His face turned serious, worrying her.
She covered his mouth. “Tonight, let’s leave the past and the future on the other side of that door.” She pointed at his bedroom door. “Please.” She hadn’t meant for this to happen. Okay, maybe that wasn’t entirely true. But now that it had, she didn’t know what to do about it. She loved him, she knew that. But saying those three words didn’t mean things would simply fall into place. There were complications, lots of complications. She didn’t believe in happy endings or forever love stories. And, even if she wanted to believe, she knew she’d mess it up.
And there was Eli.
He was frowning—she could feel it against her palm. “Tell me what’s happening at the school. How are the puppies? Mars?” She moved her hand.
“Getting stronger every day.” His fingers stroked along the inside of her arm. “How’s your dad?”
She closed her eyes to absorb the sensation. “Getting stronger every day.”
He chuckled. “He and Lola. You good with that?”
“I’m great with that.” She shivered as he drew a finger from the base of her throat to her belly button. “I don’t want him alone.” She glanced at him. “It’s nice to know, no matter where I am, they’ll look out for each other.”
His hand cupped her breast. “Any decision on the job?”
“Still thinking—” But his mouth on her nipple prevented her from finishing her sentence.
“When do you need to decide?” he asked, looking at her.
“Soon. The job doesn’t start till May—”
“Plenty of time to consider all your options.” His voice was low, his breath hot against her breast.
“I’ll call soon—” she managed to whisper before her nipple was sucked deep into his mouth.
He released her. “I’m hungry.”
She blinked, staring at him.
“You hungry?” he asked, smiling a little too smugly.
Food. He was teasing her? Now? Her body was already humming again, but it was a different kind of hunger.
“No?” His fingers trailed across her stomach.
“You’re playing with fire, Dr. Boone.” She rolled on top of him.
He laughed. “Am I?”
She nodded, aware of his every breath, twitch and reaction. He wasn’t as unaffected as he was acting. “You are.”
“Jo, you’re my kind of fire.” His hands came around her, tangling in her hair to pull her face to his.
But before he could kiss her, she pushed off his chest and sat up. “Actually, I could eat.” She jumped up before he could grab her.
He sat up and threw a pillow at her. “Mean.”
She stuck her tongue out at him. “You started it.”
He ran a hand over his head, smiling at her.
“What?”
“You’re naked.” He wobbled his eyebrows at her. “And damn fine to look at. I’d have to say you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen in my life, Jo Stephens.”
Her heart was thumping like crazy, but she said, “You’re just hoping you’ll get lucky again.”
He nodded. “But it’s true. Every word of it.”
She crossed her arms over her chest, shifting from one sock-covered foot to the other. “I... Th-thank you,” she stuttered. “I— Let’s eat?” He stood up then, all glorious manliness, and it was her turn to stare.
“Here.” He tossed her his undershirt.
She smiled and tugged it on. She rolled up the sleeves, hugging herself and sighing at the intoxicating scent of Hunter.
He pulled on his boxer shorts and his flannel snap-up shirt. “Stew?”
“Stew.”
They warmed up two big bowls of stew and a plate of honey corn bread, carrying it back into the living room to picnic before the fireplace.
“Yummy,” she said between bites.
“Cooking.” He held up the bowl. “One of the many skills I hadn’t planned on picking up.”
“Cooking is a good skill to have.”
“I didn’t want Eli to grow up on frozen dinners or scrambled eggs. I used my mom’s cookbook a lot, in the beginning.” He took a long drink of water. “Can’t touch her cooking, but we don’t starve.”
She grinned, imagining Hunter poring over cookbooks and meticulously following each recipe. He was a scientist, methodical and calculating. She had no doubt he’d spent hours making sure he’d done his mom’s recipes proud. Unlike Josie’s mother, Mags Boone was one of those women who excelled at motherhood. She had died in a car accident a year after Josie had gone to New Mexico. Josie had come back for the funeral—she’d had to. Seeing Hunter so sad, the Boone family so uncertain, had been a nightmare. So was seeing Amy with Hunter’s tiny son. She’d given each of them her sincere condolences and headed back to the safety of school. But she’d often thought about Hunter and the family, written countless letters and emails she never sent. Nothing she could say would ease the ache of Mags passing.
“I bet she would’ve loved that you cook her food for Eli.” Josie beamed at him, loving his answering smile. “What’s another skill you never thought you’d learn?”
Hunter sat back against the couch, his long legs stretched out in front of him. He stared into the fire. “Well...potty training.” He laughed. “I mean, I was planning on helping out. I just thought it’d be a team effort.”
Josie sat her bowl on the floor at her side. “When did Amy leave?”
Hunter looked at her. “We lived under the same roof for a little over a year. Then she went back on the rodeo circuit, stopping in now and then.”
“B-but Eli was a baby.” She couldn’t imagine leaving something so little and helpless. “You... How... Wow.” She took his hand in hers. “So, you were in school with a baby, on your own.”
He shook his head. “I was never on my own, Jo. My father, my brothers, Renata, hell, my aunts came down to help out whenever they could.”
She nodded. “I know. It’s just—”
“He never had a mother.” He squeezed her hand. “You know all about that.”
She scooted across the floor to snuggle against his chest. “Oh, I have a mother. She’s on husband number seven. But this is the second time she’s married this one, so maybe he’ll be a keeper.”
Hunter’s laugh was low. “You like him?”
“I don’t know him, really. They came up when I had a show in Montesano last year. He seemed nice enough. He’s younger, of course, but he loves her.” She shrugged. “I think.”
“What about you?” he asked. “Learned any skills you never thought you’d learn?”
“Where do I start?” She sighed. “Changing a tire and my oil—it’s cheaper than having everything serviced. Once a mechanic finds out you’re a single woman, they see dollar signs. Minor plumbing repairs and electrical repairs.”
“Cooking, too?”
She smiled up at him. “Cooking for one is boring.”
He frowned. “Why one?”
She swallowed. “I was almost engaged. But I just couldn’t do it.”
“What did he do?” His voice was gruff, angry.
“He didn’t do a thing. He was a really nice guy. He still is a really nice guy.”
“You’re still involved?”
“If I was, this wouldn’t have happened.” She shot him a look. “He’d like to be, but nothing’s changed.”
“Then what happened?”
She sat up, reaching for her glass of water. She didn’t know what to say, exactly. “It’s me. I’m not wired that way. The marrying way, I mean. If I was, Wes would be a good husband. He’s this sweet, supportive, funny guy who loves me. But I didn’t love him that way.” She swirled her water glass, staring into the fire. She didn’t really want to talk about Wes... She didn�
��t know how long they’d have time like this together. She glanced at Hunter to find him watching her.
Hunter took the glass from her. “You’re too hard on yourself, Jo.”
She frowned. She wasn’t hard on herself—she just accepted her limitations. Not that looking at Hunter, all ruffled and manly, didn’t make her wish she was another kind of woman. A true-blue veterinarian cowboy’s wife type of woman...
He lowered his head, his mouth latching on to hers with a passion that startled her. His hand slipped under the edge of her shirt, gripping her hip. When his tongue traced the seam of her lips, she inched closer. Not close enough. She loved his soft groan, the hitch in his breath, as she straddled him.
“Still hungry?” she asked, nipping his bottom lip.
“Yes, ma’am,” he rasped. “For dessert.”
Chapter Eleven
Morning sunlight spilled into the bedroom, waking Josie with a start. She lay there, staring at the aged wood beams running across the ceiling. She was here, really here. And Hunter was snoring softly beside her. She grinned, turning her head on the down-filled pillow. His features were peaceful when he slept. She stared at him, torn. She wanted to stay. She wanted to run her fingers over the stubble on his chin. She wanted to wake him up and make love to him again. She wanted to talk about possibilities. And that terrified her.
Nothing had been said last night because she’d told him not to say anything. Doubt reared its ugly head.
Maybe nothing had been said because neither of them wanted to go there.
Yes, they were attracted to each other. They had a history and they liked each other. But a future for them couldn’t be that easy. She and Hunter had a complicated relationship. Another thing her mother had warned her away from: complications. Complications led to distractions, which led to disinterest, and being left.
So words like possibilities and relationships shouldn’t come into play, for both their sakes. Instead, last night was...the best mistake of her life. An amazing, magical, earth-shattering, mind-blowing mistake. She needed to end this now before she let her stupid heart convince her otherwise.
They weren’t kids anymore. Other people would get hurt—like Eli. Eli, who might be home at any minute.
She lay there a second longer, memorizing everything about Hunter. She couldn’t let him in. She couldn’t love him. Her hand hovered over his cheek, itching to touch him.
The cold, hard truth was too big to ignore. It was too late. She did love him—she always had. The trick would be leaving without making things even more complicated than they already were. He could never know how she felt and she needed to get a grip on her out-of-control libido.
First step: getting out of his bed. She slipped from the bed, then spent a good ten minutes finding her clothes. No matter how hard she searched, one sock was missing. She dressed as quietly as possible, tugged her hair into a sloppy ponytail and eased from his bedroom.
She made it to the front door when his growl of a question made her jump. “Where are you going?” He was all sleep-rumpled, bleary-eyed and shirtless.
“Home,” she whispered, even though there was no reason to do so.
“You weren’t going to say goodbye?” He frowned.
“You were asleep.” As far as excuses went, she knew it was lame. From the disappointment on his face, he knew it was lame, too. “I...I didn’t want to wake you up.”
“You wanted me to wake up alone?” His long stride erased the space between them. His expression was confused and, maybe, a little sad. “Why are you running out on me?”
She blinked, shaking her head. “I’m not—”
“Stop, Jo.” His hands clasped her upper arms. “Let’s have some coffee and talk.”
“Hunter,” she said, “my dad—”
His hands slipped from her shoulders as he stepped back. “Admit you’re scared. But don’t use your dad as an excuse to avoid talking to me.”
Her first instinct was to fight. The only problem with that? He was right, that’s exactly what she was doing—and feeling. Which meant arguing with him was stupid. But talking to him, actually talking about feelings, would be bad. Especially now that she knew she loved him. What if he asked her how she felt? What if he loved her?
Joy and anticipation and pure, unfiltered panic pressed in on her, forcing the air from her lungs. Leaving was the best option, for both of them. She glanced at the door two steps away, the doorknob within easy reach.
“I don’t want another eleven years of silence, Jo.” His words were so raw, so hard, she had to look at him. Pain filled his eyes, so deep she was drowning in it. “Whatever you say can’t be as bad as saying nothing.”
She couldn’t look away, no matter how much she wanted to. It killed her, to see him hurting. “I don’t know what you want me to say.”
He sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Why are you leaving?”
She shook her head, then shrugged. “I...I’m not good at the whole one-night-stand thing.” She heard how callous her words were.
He was scowling now. “That’s not what this is.”
She couldn’t stop the words from coming. “What is it? What is this?” She pointed back and forth between the two of them. “Hunter...” Her voice broke. Damn it. She didn’t want this. Her heart might be a traitor, but she wasn’t going to give in. She wasn’t.
His hand cupped her cheek. “Would falling in love be that bad?” Why did he have to look at her like that? With tenderness and hope. Hope, which led to disappointment, disillusionment and heartbreak.
“Yes,” she rasped. “It would be a mistake. A huge mistake. Like last night...all of this.” She was spiraling out of control—she could hear it in her voice.
His gaze was relentless, searching and intense, while his thumb stroked along her cheekbone. She tried not to shudder, she did, but she failed. His posture changed, and he relaxed. His crooked smile appeared, and one brow arched as he leaned forward. “People make mistakes in life—it happens all the time.” His hand grasped her chin, tilting her head back. “Loving you isn’t one of them.”
Was he saying he loved her? Now? Was the room spinning? And he was kissing her... Holding her in a way that told her he’d never let her go. How could she be so happy and so miserable at the same time?
“Stay, Jo,” he murmured against her lips.
“I can’t.” She pressed against his chest.
“You can. If you weren’t so stubborn, you’d see that.”
“Always have been—” She sucked in a deep breath, hoping to shake off the all-too-tempting invitation his lips were issuing as they traveled along her neck. “Stubborn,” she whispered.
His laugh was low, his breath warm on her skin. “It’s hot as hell,” he murmured, lightly biting her earlobe.
She gasped. If she didn’t push out of his hold now, she’d be pushing him back into the bedroom. Pulling away was hard, a lot harder than she wanted to admit. She was still a little breathless when she said, “You don’t play fair.”
He smoothed her hair from her face. “All’s fair in love and war. Can’t help it if I get you all hot and bothered.” He shrugged, his smile fading. “I can’t make you stay, if you’re set on going.”
“I am.” She nodded, trying to convince them both.
“Then go.” His hand rested at the base of her neck, his thumb resting in the hollow of her throat. She swallowed, his touch a brand against her flesh. He grinned, his thumb stroking her neck. “I’ll see you at my dad’s later for dinner.”
She scowled at him, then yanked the door open and stepped out onto the front porch. She ignored him, and his laughter, as she walked out. He followed her, just to poke at her, she knew. It was cold and he was wearing his boxers and not much else. She was about to point that out to him, when someone cleared their throat. A woman stood, her arm resting on the hood of a big shiny four-door pickup truck.
Not just any woman. Amy. Not that Amy even looked at her—her brown eyes were glued on Hunte
r. She stepped forward, blond hair swinging, all sass and attitude. “Are you kidding me?”
“Amy?” The look on Hunter’s face told Josie he wasn’t expecting his ex-wife any more than she was.
Amy laughed, a hard, angry sound. “Talk about a homecoming.”
Hunter’s calm was surprising. “What are you doing here?”
“Eli called and asked me to come home.” She tossed her head back, her hands resting on her hips. She’d kept in shape—her skintight jeans and plunging neckline made that clear. “So, I did. It’s Christmas and all. But I’m guessing you weren’t expecting me. Or maybe you were. Maybe you knew I was on my way.” She leveled Josie with a glare so hostile there was no mistaking her implication.
Whatever Amy was thinking, it wasn’t pretty. Josie had never been on the receiving end of such unfiltered aggression. Amy might be looking for a fight, but that was the last thing she needed. Eli disliked her now, but he would really hate her if she went toe-to-toe with his mother. “I was just leaving,” Josie muttered.
“I sure as hell hope Eli isn’t home.” Amy put her hands on her hips. “A boy his age doesn’t need to see his dad sleeping around.”
“Are you serious?” Hunter’s tone was hard.
“Hell, yes, I am. Where is he? Where’s our son?” Josie heard Amy stress our son—it was impossible not to hear it. As if she needed to be reminded that Eli was their son.
“He’s sleeping over at Greg’s,” Josie said.
Amy’s nostrils flared, her eyes narrowed. “Was I talking to you? Did I ask you where my son was?” She stepped forward, fists clenched.
“Amy, that’s enough,” Hunter said. “This is my place—”
“Where my son lives,” Amy argued. “I don’t give a shit about who you’re sleeping with. But her? I know Eli has a problem with her. You know it, too. You might not give a rat’s ass about your son’s feelings, but I sure as hell do.”
“You really want to go there?” Hunter’s voice was deceptively soft.
Amy’s eyes went round, her lips thin and pinched. She didn’t say a word, but it was hard for her, Josie could tell.
“I think you need to leave.” Hunter crossed his arms over his chest. “Now.”
A Cowboy's Christmas Reunion (Mills & Boon Cherish) (The Boones of Texas, Book 1) Page 12
