by Amber Scott
~~~
Chapter Six
Samantha opened her eyes. She looked up, focusing on the face hovering above her saying, “Miss? Miss, are you all right?” Samantha squinted, and the face came into focus. It wasn’t Carla’s face, but could have belonged to her younger sister.
Bolting upright, Samantha looked around her. The little metal and vinyl table was gone, along with the linoleum. In its place were roses on white lace and cotton, and plain oak chairs. Under her hands was dusty, grit-covered wood. Good God, what had happened?
“Where’s Carla? Who are you? Where am I?”
“Oh, no. She’s hit her head but good,” the woman said, but not to her.
Samantha looked around for who else might be listening.
“Tommy!” the woman called in a booming voice that made Samantha jump. “Tommy Echavaria, get in here. Now.”
The loud thump of footsteps neared, running. A short, burly man with brown curls and dingy suspenders burst through the door. “Ginny? What is it? Is the baby okay?”
“Yes, Tommy. Yes. The baby’s fine,” Ginny said. She gestured to Samantha. “The woman you found on the road woke up in the while you took getting Doc Vernor to come on over and see her.”
“She’s okay?” Tommy seemed unperturbed by Ginny’s tone.
“Clearly not.”
“No, I’m fine. I just fainted, I think.” Samantha tried to stand. She didn’t know where she was or who these people were, but she knew she was getting the hell out of here fast. The room spun and forced her to sit back down. Where pain stabbed mercilessly through her head, her hand covered it.
“Help me get her onto the table, Tommy. You should have put her there in the first place.” Ginny was definitely in charge.
Tommy scooped Samantha up in his arms, and Ginny cleared clattering dishes from the table. She wasn’t going to throw a fit. She wasn’t about to argue. She could tell, even from the quick, sidelong glance she’d managed, this woman might try even harder to keep her here. Plus, her body felt like Jell-o. She couldn’t stand on her own yet.
Tommy laid her down. Samantha’s calves dangled off the table’s edge.
“What’s she wearin’, Ginny?”
“Mind your eyes, mister, and don’t worry about what she is and isn’t wearing.”
She looked up at Ginny and Tommy, a cute couple, actually, perfectly sized and suited for one another with different versions of brown hair and blue eyes. Each assessed her and the table in their own ways. Tommy with his arms crossed and head tilted. Ginny with her hands on her hips and eyebrows up. Up high.
Samantha couldn’t remember what she was wearing. Hopefully, panties at least. Probably jeans and a blouse.
“Get Jesse,” Ginny commanded finally.
“I thought you wanted me to get Doc Vernor,” Tommy said, none too submissively.
Ginny shook her head. “No. Changed my mind. Get Jesse.”
Samantha blinked her eyes. Even if it was lunacy to hope for it, to even think it, nonetheless, her belly flip-flopped with expectation. Somehow, had she fallen into a new dream? Of him? Boundless delight lit up every fiber of Samantha’s dreaming body.
Jesse.
Yes, Tommy, go get Jesse.
Let him be as perfect as she remembered.
*
A whir sounded as Jesse sliced the axe into the small log, a thud as it stuck in the stump. The halves drummed to the other pieces piling up. He settled another into place. Daylight dwindled down, and the afternoon sunshine warmed his bare shoulders. A sheen of sweat formed over his body from his exertion, cooling his skin under the tease of the late summer breeze.
Work felt good, shut his mind and opened his limbs to the rhythm and press of the axe. Lift, swing, slice. Didn’t need the wood. Not for months. He needed the work.
If he didn’t keep his mind blank and closed down, she’d end up wandering into his thoughts. She’d spent far too much time there as it was. For no good purpose. For no good reason.
She had no business showing up there, in his mind. Sneaking like a ghost from the grave, stealing his sanity. He needed his sanity. Craziness had him beginning to contemplate a way to get back to Winnemucca, track her down, and make her his again and again until his body was purged of all need and want of that smooth skin, those daring eyes.
Lift, swing, slice. The wood split with a crack, echoing, bouncing out into the emptiness that had once been a solace from the life of danger and distrust he’d been living. The life he’d be leaving.
He paused, wiped his brow. Half the pile he’d gathered over the last few weeks remained. He’d soon be done and left with more meanderings stuck in his brain like honey, about a woman who seemed too good now to be true.
He should have asked her name. He’d thought of naming her, to put the idea to rest, but figured he’d get it wrong. Then some dumb part of himself would think he could always go and find out.
Like one, big, crazy, spiraling circle.
“Damned fool,” Jesse said, tossing the axe blade into the base log.
He caught his breath, heavy from the exertion. Only then did he hear his name. Well, the name he was known by.
“Will,” Tommy called out over the meadow. “Ginny sent me.” Tommy motioned with his hands and left back the way he’d come.
Jesse didn’t bother putting on a shirt. The concern on Tommy’s face got Jesse walking fast. It wasn’t the first time Tommy had come at Jesse’s sister’s behest. Lord knew it wouldn’t be the last. This time, something was different in the way her husband had said it.
Something inside Jesse stirred to life. Not worry. Or fear. A strange sense of anticipation. That didn’t make sense, though. Tommy had looked anything but excited. Whatever had his wife sending him to get her brother had Tommy looking worried. So Jesse should be. But he wasn’t.
Jesse strode down the hill, met the dirt road, and followed it to his sister’s place, half a mile from his own. Honeysuckle scented the breeze, and the air was drier than usual. Thirst scratched at his throat. Anticipation neared an unnamable giddiness he couldn’t find any source to blame on.
He laid it at the feet of curiosity.
Tommy called him Will now. His sister, Ginny, always tried to, as well. If she slipped a time or two, so long as no one was around to hear it, Jesse let it slide by.
Tommy never slipped.
Will Edgington. Not Jesse Kincaid, infamous outlaw: Wanted Dead or Alive. Just Will.
He walked up the boarded steps to the door sitting ajar and didn’t take another step. What he saw, who he saw, arrested him.
He’d know that wheat-blonde hair anywhere, had dreamed of it for too many weeks to count. When she turned her blue eyes his way, he recognized the emotion in her face. His own expression surely mirrored it, because a thrill ran through him, the same that sparked in her eyes as she looked at him.
She sat up straighter on the table as she faced him. She moved to get down, come into his arms, or so he hoped she would, until Ginny’s shrill scold stopped her.
“No, no, no. Lay down, missy. You’ve hit your head, and if you don’t lay down, I reckon you’ll be puking all over my good, clean floor.”
Jesse resisted the smile tugging at his cheeks and eyes. His heart danced in a new rhythm. The girl from his dreams swept her gaze down his bare chest, settling at his waist, before carefully lying back down on the table that was far too short for a body as tall as hers. The men’s clothes she wore didn’t disguise her one bit.
Jesse walked into the room, turning his gaze from her. He didn’t want his sister and brother-in-law to see the raw emotion churning through him. He didn’t want them to see how important this woman being here was.
“What happened?” Jesse looked from Tommy to Ginny and back to the woman on the table.
“Tommy found her. She was laying passed out cold. He brought her in.” Ginny kept her arms crossed and her tone defensive.
They’d called for him rather than a doctor. That meant Ginny h
ad been paying attention. One night of too many whiskeys on their front porch, and he’d spilled his drunken guts to his prying little sister. She must’ve put two and three together.
“Where did you find her?”
“Near the Hendricks’ place, next to the creek.”
Jesse stepped closer but didn’t dare go all the way. He might make a fool of himself.
“Did you call the doctor?”
“I thought you’d want to decide if we should,” Ginny said, her gaze probing his eyes to verify if she was right.
Jesse nodded. It was enough. Ginny’s eyes flashed, a small, devious smile forming on her lips. “Well, then,” she said. “Perhaps you’d like a moment.”
Jesse’s cheeks warmed uncomfortably. Embarrassment. His kid sister, the one he’d looked after since they were eleven and nine, knew him too well, and was far too clever for her own good.
“Come on, Tommy. Let’s go check for eggs.”
Tommy followed with a polite nod of his chin and tip of his hat to each person. He didn’t seem at all wondrous or affected by the new direction his life was taking. He seemed simply able to enjoy the journey.
They closed the door after them, and she sat up. Jesse stepped in. His hands itched to touch her, just to be sure she was real and here. Instead, he put them under his armpits, arms crossed, and while she scrutinized him, teetered on his boot heels.
It appeared she wasn’t sure what was real, either, because she kept shaking her head, touching her forehead with the back of her palm, and laughing in short huffs.
“Where am I?” she finally said.
Jesse’s brow furrowed. “You don’t know where you are?”
“No. I don’t know where I am, but I know who you are.”
Jesse grinned, despite trying not to. He didn’t want to act foolish, like a schoolboy sweet on the teacher, even if his current state keenly resembled it.
“And who am I?”
“You’re ... you never told me your name.”
His grin grew broader. “I never did. Neither did you.”
She smiled, too. She tipped her head a little, and her hair shimmered gold in the sunlight. Her eyes shone bright with happiness. “Samantha,” she said.
“Samantha.” He should take his hand out from under his underarm and greet her proper, but he couldn’t. Samantha. It fit her. Bold, feminine, soft, and strong. Better than the few he’d allowed himself to imagine.
Silence hummed between them. She giggled. “Aren’t you going to tell me yours?” Her eyebrows drew up and in. She shrugged a shoulder forward, like it was a place she could hide her shyness.
It was a good question. Should he tell her the truth? Would she want to run from here, for help? Some were terrified of Jesse Kincaid, others enamored. Those who wanted him wanted only the name, the image of what it represented, already firmly, unshakably rooted in their heads.
He didn’t want that from her. He wanted her to know him. Not a name, not a reputation, bad or good. But he didn’t want to lie, either.
“Kincaid.”
She lifted her chin and assessed him like she would a sculpture. “Kincaid.” Her voice trembled a bit, lowered and breathy.
God, but his name sounded sweet on her lips. Those very lips parted and wet, and his mind drew directly to the last time he’d felt them. Samantha. She moved from the table, not entirely steady, and he rushed forward.
He held each elbow to support her weight, and she let him. Her gaze stayed on his face, moving from eyes to mouth to his hair and back.
“You are the best dream I ever had,” she said, leaning her head back. Her eyes half-closed.
He didn’t know what she could have meant, and he really didn’t care. He cared only that she was here, in his arms. Warm and real and here. He pressed his mouth to her chin and placed a small, tender kiss there. His heart beat up his neck and pounded in his ears, but the blood rushed below.
Jesse breathed her in. Lavender and roses. She might as well have been food.
She slowly moved her arms up his and entwined them around his neck. “I don’t want to wake up. Not for a long, long time. Okay?”
One eyebrow cocked. He considered her for a moment, unsure what to say to that. “I won’t if you won’t.”
A low, soft moan, near a whimper, escaped her lips, and the wall of control inside Jesse cracked. He kissed her. He pressed his mouth to hers, delved his tongue to explore her, reveling in the spark shooting through him at the contact. He needed her. Already, he needed her. His sister’s kitchen was no place to seduce any woman.
Jesse pushed Samantha away to arm’s length. His breathing labored, and the hurt look on her face almost did him in. Nevertheless, he could not have her here.
He took her hand and asked with his look. She nodded. They stepped out the front door to an empty porch and a blazing sunset dripping up the sky’s horizon.
Jesse exchanged a glance with her. Samantha smiled again, shyly.
He almost swung her into his arms and ran home. Instead, he walked fast, and she followed up the hill.
As his own porch neared, she said, “Do you take off your shirt for all the girls?”
He paused, quirked an eyebrow at her, unsure what to think of her seductive tone.
Her gaze settled on his. “Or just for me?”
~~~
Chapter Seven
Maybe Carla was really a genie and had granted Samantha’s one wish—that she could see this man again and finish what they’d started. Unfortunately, that man eyed her a bit warily when she tossed that last little statement his way. He shook his head as though to clear it and took the porch steps two at a time.
Had she not said it sexily enough?
A hot blush began creeping into her cheeks. “I mean ... that is ... where’s your shirt?”
“Jesse,” he said when her voice trailed off.
Like she didn’t already know. “I remember.”
“Just making sure,” he said and gestured for her to go inside. “I’ll grab a shirt inside if you like. Tommy just rushed me.”
She needed to remember to thank Tommy. She hesitated at the threshold, feeling shy, her heartbeat slamming in her ears.
“Nothing here to bite you, Samantha,” he said. “Promise.”
Oh, man. She actually wanted a nibble or two, so long as it came from him. Where was the part of the dream where a random celebrity showed up? Or the bad guys, like last time? She should be answering him with something sultry, like “Bite. I don’t mind.” Instead, she stood shifting her weight, waiting for some sort of kissing invitation.
“Were you hurt?” he asked, stepping closer.
Her breathing hitched. “No. Why?”
“Tommy said he found you in a heap. Much like I did.” His eyes narrowed on hers. “You got a habit of getting into heaps of trouble, it seems.”
“Uh-oh. Does that mean you’re trouble?” There it was! Her dreamlike bravado like from before.
Jesse’s eyes flashed, then focused on her mouth. “Depends on who’s asking.”
“Oh?”
He stepped closer. Close enough that only a breath of space separated them, effectively putting her against the wall. “Are you?” He grinned. “Asking for trouble?”
The last word spilled into a low chuckle and Samantha let the air woosh out of her lungs on a giggle of her own. She punched him softly in the gut. He caught her fist and as their laughter died, the question stayed in his eyes. He really did doubt her landing in a pile on the road near his doorstep?
Um, okay. So much for dream power. “I don’t know how I got there. I was having tea, or maybe dreamed that I was having tea, and then the world went fuzzy, and I woke up with Ginny in my face.”
“My grandmother would cast a circle over luck like that. No such thing as coincidences. She’d say someone sent you.”
Samantha laughed again then sobered. He was still smiling, but he was serious. “You think someone sent me? Who?”
He regarded her
a long moment. “Whoever did is pitiful at disguising your curves in tight jeans.”
The way he said it made her wonder if he had some double meaning in mind. “Yes, well, with this ass, I doubt I’ll ever pass as a boy.”
He tucked his chin and his gaze flashed again. “Who sent you, Samantha?”
“Uh...Carla?” She shrugged. The movement made her breasts brush against his bare chest. Her body responded with a tingle that had nothing to do with cold air.
“I don’t know any Carla.”
She bit down against saying Carla knew him. Something inside her warned a statement like that would break this spell between them. Instead, she shrugged as innocently as possible.
He wound a hand around her waist. “Well, whoever did send you will be sorely disappointed, because I’m taking you prisoner.”
Whoa. That sounded hot coming from his full lips. The shapes of a goatee and mustache were coming in, and black whiskers framed his too-kissable mouth. “Just no chains, please,” she said, then could have kicked herself for total lack of sex appeal.
Thankfully, Jesse didn’t seem to mind. He pulled her closer and wound a hand into her hair. “If you mean me harm, Samantha, I’ll only warn you once.”
“Harm?” Why in the world would she mean him harm? All she could think about was how to get him all the way naked. She wanted to touch that chest again, prove to herself it was real. He was real.
He’d kissed her just moments ago.
A kiss like old lovers give. Like high school sweethearts share. Where was that kiss, that pure joy all over his face? How did she get that look back? His eyes searched hers, conflict in them. The grip in her hair tightened. With a small curse, he kissed her.
Samantha gave a tiny groan and wrapped her arms around him, returning his hungry kiss in full. His hand dragged down her back, dragging heat and fever with it. His chest felt so satisfying, hard and smooth under her fingertips. As long as she didn’t wake up. He was too good to be true. She was not about to question the gods or her luck or, why, after weeks of trying, he finally came back to her dreams.
