by Wright, Erin
But kisses…
She replayed their near kiss over and over again in her head. She couldn’t remember making the decision to tilt her head to the side; it had just happened. She did remember thinking how slowly he was approaching her. She’d wanted the moment to happen so badly her toes ached from desire, but the slow approach had been torturous.
If he’d moved just a bit faster, or if I’d met him halfway, we would have kissed. Of course, that would have meant that Carmelita would have pulled up in the middle of the kiss. Is a near kiss better than an interrupted kiss?
Her lips, hungry for his, seemed to shout an emphatic “no!” to that question.
Sigh.
She got very little accounting work done, and what she’d managed to accomplish would have to be rechecked later. Jennifer couldn’t stop obsessing over what had happened, or precisely, what didn’t happen, in the kitchen.
She wasn’t sure if the clothing had played a part in his changed attitude toward her, but she guessed that what she was wearing had very little to do with it. Her shoes were ineffective from the very start, and she guessed the pain from the cut knuckles was a sufficient distraction that he probably didn’t notice the skirt or tight top.
Stetson had trusted her enough to let her help. That factor by itself was causing her heart to swell. He’d only huffed and puffed a bit before he let her tend to him. She reveled in how wonderful it felt to care about another human being for the sake of being nice, rather than out of obligation.
Paul would have expected me to be completely tolerant while he fidgeted and whined about his injury. Of course, Paul never would have been working on an engine of any kind.
As much as she enjoyed the emotional fulfillment of tending to Stetson’s wounds, it was The Look he had given her during the approach for the kiss that she couldn’t get out of her mind.
He didn’t blink. His eyes were fixed on mine. What would’ve happened if Carmelita hadn’t pulled up right then??
For the first time in the two days that she’d been at the Miller farm, she had a thought about the kindly housekeeper that wasn’t filled with admiration.
Why did she have to come back right then? Two more minutes and things could’ve gone a lot farther. Or been interrupted.
Her fingers froze over the keyboard of her laptop and her head shot up.
Just how far could things have gone? How far did I want them to go? How far should I let them go with Stetson?
Allowing herself an actual break, she leaned back as far as she dared in the dilapidated chair.
I have to figure this out right now. It’s better to have a plan than stumble around blindly and make a huge mistake.
Oh, seriously. I could make a huge mistake with Stetson and not feel bad about it at all. He’s handsome, with a great voice and eyes that are a million miles deep.
However, getting involved with a client of the bank is a sure way to compromise the bank’s position, and I know Greg’ll be a jackass about it if he finds out.
I need to keep my job, but I don’t really like my job. So why do I work so hard to stay with the bank?
Because I have bills to pay.
Bills. Dammit!
I should just see what happens next. There’s no harm in that, and I can put on the breaks if it starts to get out of hand, right?
Jennifer struggled through a couple more sidetracked hours before deciding that she needed to just give up on it for the day. Five plus three did not equal nine, no matter how many times she wrote it down wrong.
Jennifer had no idea where Stetson had run off to. He’d fled from the house as if the demons of hell were nipping at his heels as soon as all of the groceries were brought in. She was in turns grateful for his escape and disappointed by his leaving. If he’d stayed, she wasn’t sure that she could have kept from throwing herself at him. At this point, she could think of a dozen places on his body that she wanted to kiss, none of which were his hand.
She really couldn’t blame him for taking off. He knew as well as she did that things would become much more complicated if…
If they had actually done what she’d wanted. Shiitttttt! She melted a little in her chair. Kissing and tongues and hands and—
She stood up. It was time to take advantage of the largest benefit of working in the field - she was, in a way, her own boss, right? It was only four o’clock, but drooling over Stetson’s hot ass was not exactly a productive use of her time, and after all, she still had to drive one town over to get real food. No torrtacos for her tonight.
She shoved her laptop into her bag and grabbed a stack of papers to work on in the hotel room. She could work on them over dinner. Cramming the receipts into the pocket of the computer bag, she lifted the strap over her shoulder just as her phone began to buzz.
The opening notes of “Working Overtime” told her it was Greg before she even looked at the screen. Remembering the bad reception from yesterday, she scurried out of the house. Looking at the screen as she ran, she realized she’d forgotten to charge her phone. Hopefully there was still enough battery left for the call. Her job probably wouldn’t survive her hanging up on her boss, low battery or not.
She swiped her finger across the screen to answer the call even before she was out on the porch.
Once outside, she lifted the phone to her ear and set the computer bag on a rocking chair.
“Hi, Greg,” she said, out of breath from her sprint through the house. The pattering of rain on the porch overhang was soothing. The mist drifted towards her and she shivered from the cold. She should put on her jacket, even if it was designed for looks, not warmth. It could only help.
“What the hell takes you so long to answer the damn phone?” Greg snarled, making no attempt to hide his mood.
“The reception is poor here,” she said, struggling into the jacket one arm at a time, trying not to drop her phone in the process. She guessed that would be almost as bad as hanging up on him. “I have to go outside to be able to hear you.”
“What have I told you about excuses? Now is really not the time. Are you done with the audit yet?”
“Of course I’m not done yet.” She tried to keep the frustration out of her voice, but she was pretty sure she was failing. She stared out across the fields, watching the white fenceposts march endlessly into the distance. The craggy mountains opposite the farmhouse rose up in the sky, white-peaked and majestic, edging the sides of wide valley they embraced.
It truly is beautiful out in the country.
“I want this done as quickly as possible. I want options on my desk ASAP,” Greg said, pronouncing the acronym as ‘A-sap’ rather than spelling it out.
“I’m working as fast as I can,” Jennifer responded flatly.
Greg’s attitude made it so much easier to fudge the truth with her boss. Yeah, it’s true that she was actually trying to cut out early, but telling him that she was working as hard and fast as she could didn’t bother her because Greg had become such a pushy bastard.
The increased moral flexibility I’ve started feeling since taking this job should be a warning, but I have bills to pay.
The dark rainclouds hung low in the distance. There was a misty, ethereal quality to the farm, like she’d been dropped into another world. She watched as cows wandered along, giving out low, deep moooo’s to their calves who were not keeping pace.
“I don’t understand what the problem is. Why’s this taking so long?” he demanded.
“It’s only the second day I’ve been here, and I’d explain why it’s taking so long, but I’ve already heard your rant about excuses so I think I’ll skip it today,” she said blithely, knowing that she’d took a giant leap across the line, but not really giving a damn.
As her boss began another lecture about her obligations to the bank and being polite to her superiors, Jennifer heard the sound of Stetson’s truck rumbling down from the barn and Greg’s voice faded away completely.
She watched the truck come to a stop in front
of the house.
She smiled, her heart skipping a beat.
At the very edge of her awareness, she could still hear Greg droning on and on. She refocused for a second to make sure her boss was still raving and not actually talking to her, but he sounded like he was just getting warmed up so she went back to ignoring him.
Stetson slipped from the truck and, looking at her on the porch, he smiled back at her before leaning back into the cab to gather something from the console. When his head reappeared, Jennifer’s breathing quickened. The brooding storm clouds behind him threw his handsome figure into greater contrast. He was perfectly framed by the wilderness of the area. He belonged here. She had to make sure that he stayed here.
“JENNIFER!” Greg’s voice leapt to the front of her attention.
“I’m sorry,” Jennifer said, scrambling for a way to cover her inattention. “Ummm…you broke up there at the end. What was that last part?”
She watched as Stetson straightened up, his hair plastered to his head from the rain. She wanted to run her fingers through it and straighten it out.
“I saaaaiiiiiddddd…the board wants options.”
“I’m exploring that right now,” Jennifer said, dropping her head in exasperation. “I have to see what assets—”
“Let me be frank,” he cut in. “The board wants to know if foreclosure is an option.”
“Well, yes, foreclosure is always an option,” she replied at the same she heard the sound of Stetson’s boot hitting the porch step.
Her head snapped up. He was not smiling. There was no way Stetson missed hearing that last sentence.
Shit, shit, shit, shit, shittiest shit of all shits.
She was screwed. She watched him storm past her into the house, the phone call completely forgotten in that instant.
Greg was still talking but for once, she didn’t wait for him to stop.
“I got it, Greg,” she said, talking over whatever the hell he was saying. “I’ll get you and the board my recommendation as quickly as I can. I have to go.”
Jennifer hit the red button, ending the call. She turned and watched the screen door, still bouncing open and closed from being slammed by Stetson.
She had no idea how to talk her way out of this one.
Chapter 10
Okay, don’t panic. I can go in and explain the situation to him. He has to listen to me. He has to realize that foreclosure is a real possibility at this point. It doesn’t matter what I do or say, the possibility is out there and I may not be able to stop it.
She took a step towards the front door and then stopped. He wasn’t in the mood to listen to a word she said. She should give him space and deal with him in the morning. Maybe with some time to cool off, he’d be willing to hear her out.
She turned back to leave and then realized that except for the nylons, she was barefoot. No wonder she was so cold! Tiptoeing back, she eased the screen door and front door open as quietly as she could and retrieved her heels from just inside the house.
Carmelita was saying something, her voice so quiet that the words were indistinguishable.
Shoes in hand, Jennifer backed away slowly.
“I really don’t care about your rules this time,” Stetson yelled. “I am not having that woman in my house any longer. She is not a guest, she is the enemy!”
Jennifer eased the doors shut, hastily slipped her shoes on, and plunged into the rain.
Tossing her bag across the car onto the passenger seat, she slid into the car and slammed the driver’s side door closed behind her. Reaching into her bag, she rummaged around for her keys. She had to get out of there. She had to go. She had to leave. Right now.
She found the keys. Fumbling, she finally got the right key in the ignition. Starting the car, she slammed the shifter into reverse and jammed her foot down.
Tears were already blurring her vision as she felt the wet gravel give way under the tires. Blindly, she slapped the shifter into drive and rocketed out of the farmyard.
“I am NOT the ENEMY!” she screamed, pounding the steering wheel.
The car slipped and then caught traction on the muddy road. Jennifer didn’t notice.
That fucking asshole Greg!!! He fucking ruins everything. What the hell is his problem? Why the hell is this farm so fucking important to him?
Arrgh! Why the hell did I let him get to me like that? I should have been paying attention, but no, I had to act like I was 13 again.
“Oh look, a cute boy!” she screamed at the windshield, the wipers flashing furiously back and forth. “Time to lose your goddamn head!”
The car’s backend slid to the side just a little bit before catching and jerking the whole vehicle. The world was blurry, streaked with rain. Or was it tears?
Why can’t he believe me? Why can’t anyone goddamn motherfucking believe me? I just want to help people, but no. Never. All they ever see is me, the enemy!
“I am NOT the ENEMY!!” She pounded the steering wheel as she yelled.
She was already screaming when the front tire found a soft spot near the edge of the gravel road. The car jerked. The steering wheel twisted violently from her hands.
Terrified, Jennifer’s body pulled into itself as the car and inertia took control. Her forehead slammed into the steering wheel, pain exploding outward from the impact. She screamed again.
The tire caught in the eroded drainage channel that paralleled the roadway, directing the car forward as it quickly slowed. Finally, with a sudden jerk, the car came to a rest pointing away from the road.
Panicked, her body still curled into a defensive position, she sat there, feeling her heart hammering itself against the inside of her ribcage.
She didn’t know how much time passed before she dared to move. She gave herself a personal inventory. She extended her legs and wiggled her toes; she looked at her hands as she made fists with both hands and then stretched her fingers outward.
Finally, she reached up and readjusted the rearview mirror that had been knocked askew so that she could look at her face. She couldn’t see any blood on her forehead, which she took as a good sign.
Luckily, she hadn’t been driving that fast. Too fast for the conditions, sure, but not so fast that the crash caused serious damage. She probed the tender spot in the center of her forehead. Ouch! She should’ve been wearing her seat belt. She was usually so good at putting it on, but today…today she was just too pissed to think clearly.
Self-check complete, she looked around the car for a second. Leaning over and reaching down to the passenger floor, she grabbed her computer bag from where it had fallen and pulled it up onto her lap.
She dug around in the front pockets until she found her phone.
Thank God it isn’t broken.
Then she realized: The phone was ringing. The screen read “Paul” before it went blank.
Chapter 11
Stetson was sitting in front of the mammoth-screen TV that dominated the living room. A game was on, but he couldn’t tell who was playing. He couldn’t even say what sport it was.
Turning on the TV was his signal to the world that he was not interested in interacting with anybody.
“A lot can happen in a day,” one of the announcers said.
Damn straight a lot can happen in a day. I can cut my hand. I can fool myself into thinking that maybe this girl is something special. I can damn near kiss the woman who wants to take my farm from me and then I can find out I was right - she’s not to be trusted.
Yeah, a lot can happen in one goddamn day.
The mental grumbling felt good. Logically, Stetson knew that there were probably other people who had input on the decision to foreclose on the farm, but she was here and she was pushing that idea, dammit.
But to yell at Carmelita…
He hated being angry with Carmelita, and again, logically he knew that there was no way for her to have known what Jennifer had been saying out on the front porch.
Carmelita obviously liked the girl,
no matter who she represented or what consequences could come from her being at the farm. She was just trying to be hospitable when she’d suggested that he invite Jennifer to stay for dinner.
The timing had just been…bad, downright awful really, and that wasn’t Carmelita’s fault. Stetson knew that. He also knew he had to apologize because, after all she’d done for him, she deserved more respect than he’d shown her today.
He would apologize. Just not right now.
Stetson shifted around, trying to find a comfortable place in the leather recliner. He sank in, letting the tension go just a little bit. He was in a great position to fully enjoy a nice wallow in his funk when he heard a knocking on the front door.
Stetson didn’t immediately move. He wasn’t in the mood to be cheerful with visitors and anyway, Carmelita liked to greet people.
“It is your house, Mr. Miller. You can answer the door,” Carmelita hollered from the kitchen.
Stetson sighed as he flipped up the handle releasing the foot rest.
Padding to the door in his socks, he fully expected to find Declan or Wyatt at the door. Instead, it was a soaked Jennifer, hunched over and shivering.
Dammit, why was she here? Why wasn’t she in the next town over, eating dinner? Far, far away from him?
“What are you doing here?” he growled. He folded his arms over his chest and glared down at her.
“The better question is, why are you still standing on the front porch in the rain, shivering like a newborn cat in the middle of winter?” asked an angry Spanish-accented voice from behind him.
Double damn. He should’ve known that Carmelita wouldn’t be able to resist coming to the door even after ordering him to answer it. Nothing happened under her roof that she didn’t know about.
“I told you how I felt about this situation earlier today,” Stetson said to Carmelita through gritted teeth, “and that decision still stands.”
SMACK! Stetson’s head lurched forward at the impact. Every time Carmelita hit him on the back of the head, he wondered how a woman so short could reach so high.
