“Hey.”
“You’re back.”
He hated that every day his return surprised her, like she expected him to give up and just stop coming around. Not going to happen. Still, today, more so than any other day, she seemed happy to see him.
She eyed him up and down. One eyebrow went up with suspicion about the hand he kept hidden behind his back, but he ignored it, too taken with her bright eyes, the healthy pink color in her face, and that almost smile. Sexy as hell, standing there with her hip cocked and the V in her T-shirt dipped low to reveal the tantalizing swell of her breasts.
“You’re up. Showered and dressed and . . . alert.” He loved her bare legs and tiny bare feet. Reminded him of a summer day long ago when they’d had a picnic by the river, swam, and made love under a tree. Images like that kept him up at night in more ways than one.
“My shrink prefers me that way.”
“I do, too. Your shrink?” He didn’t want to let on that he’d looked up the doctors on her pills to see if they were just prescribing her meds or actually taking care of her.
“Dude who insists on talking to me three times a week.”
Shocked, he tilted his head and studied her. “You went out?”
Jamie shook her head. “Video conference. A picture says a thousand words.”
“Seeing you is more helpful than the few words you speak these days.”
Jamie bobbed her head to the side. “You’re probably right. What’s the verdict today?”
“This version of you is a sight for sore eyes.”
“This version isn’t high and homicidal. Right now, anyway.” Jamie ducked her head and stepped back, swinging her arm wide to welcome him into her house.
Another first. She’d been reluctant to let him in these last few nights. Always telling him to just go home, asking him why bother with her at all. He hoped all she’d needed was time to let the drugs and booze clear her system so she could think and see things for what they were and not as dark and devious as her thoughts.
Ford pulled the bouquet of flowers out from behind his back and held them up to Jamie. She instinctively jolted with shock, threw up her hands in defense, and stepped back until she focused on the flowers and saw that he hadn’t pulled a gun on her.
The not-quite-a-smile bloomed into a happy grin. Her gaze shot to him, then back to the pink peonies he’d bought her at the flower shop in town.
“You brought me flowers?”
“I hoped they’d make you happy.”
“They do.”
“Mission accomplished. And I got to see your elusive smile.”
Ford took her hand and placed it on the bundle of flowers. She sucked in a surprised gasp at his touch. He felt the electricity and heat between them, too. He wanted to slide his hand up her arm, over her shoulder to her neck, and pull her in for a kiss. Tempted, hot with the anticipation of doing it, he did the exact opposite and let her go because she’d been so surprised by the flowers and still didn’t see the real reason he came by every day.
She kept the house clean now, the drapes in the living room open, and the shade in the kitchen up. The space felt open, inviting, homey, even though it needed a new coat of paint and an upgrade to make it more modern and less retro fifties. And that was being nice. Still, the place had great bones. Hardwood floors that would gleam and show off their knots and wavy lines if refinished. The arches setting off the rooms and hallway were a nice architectural detail. The stone fireplace in the living room when lit in winter would add a cozy feel to the small space. She could put some money into renovations and make this place really nice if she wanted to stay.
Big if.
Too much of an if for his comfort. He wanted her to stay, but wondered if her leaving was the right choice for her again.
The thought clenched his heart and soured his gut.
Something like hot peppers and garlic scented the air. “You cooked?”
“Well, I can’t expect you to do it every night, now, can I?”
“I don’t mind. I gotta eat, too.”
“It’s nothing fancy. Chicken tacos.” Jamie walked past him and into the kitchen. Nervous, she couldn’t quite meet his gaze. She didn’t fully turn her back on him, even when she reached up to fetch a vase from the high shelf in the cupboard beside the sink and he got a really great view of her heart-shaped ass. He kept his distance and gave her the space she still needed but he wanted to eliminate.
What he wouldn’t give to hold her in his arms again.
She filled the vase at the sink, unwrapped the flowers, and arranged them to her liking. She set the flowers on the table and went to the stove to stir the chicken concoction she’d mixed in the pot, always keeping him in her peripheral vision.
“I never asked. What do I owe you for the groceries?”
Shocked she actually wanted to have a conversation, he stood on the other side of the table to make her more comfortable. “Nothing. I got it. Besides, I’m the one who eats most of the food.”
“I ate a couple of the brownie chunk cookies you bought me. They were really good.”
“I thought you’d like them.”
She kept eyeing him as she turned on the burner to heat the refried beans. He tried not to crowd her. Hell, if he stood any further away, he’d be in the living room.
She opened the fridge and pulled out a bottle of beer and held it out as far as she could reach to keep him from getting too close. He moved forward slowly and took the beer at the end of his own reach. Ridiculous, but he did it hoping one day soon she’d settle down, relax, and be at ease with him again, the way she used to be.
“Um, would you sit at the table?”
“Will that notch your anxiety down a few levels?”
Her mouth tilted in a lopsided, self-deprecating grin. “I hope so.”
He shook his head, but sat in the seat on the opposite side of the table from her spot in the kitchen. She tried to shake it off, but her hand trembled when she reached for the jar of salsa and set it on the table in front of him.
“Jamie.”
“Yeah.” She stared at her toes, embarrassed by her uncontrollable behavior.
“Relax. It’s just me. It’s just dinner. The same as we’ve had the last few nights. That’s all. You don’t want to talk, or even look at me, and keep a six foot no trespassing zone spread out in front of you, that’s fine with me.”
Her gaze darted to his, then back to her cute, bare toes. “Why are you here?” She whispered the words, but they still held a desperation to them.
“Stir the beans.” He gave her a second to turn and do just that, because she’d asked the question, but it rattled her so much he saw the fear in her eyes despite the fact she didn’t quite look at him still.
“I’m here because I want to be here. I don’t like eating alone every night. My guess is you don’t either. Whatever else happened between us, I hope that at the very least we are still friends. You look like you could use one.”
“Why are you eating alone? Did your brothers move off the ranch with their wives?”
Surprised she’d ask about him, he sat back and took a sip of his beer and relaxed himself, realizing he’d fed off her mood and stayed on guard these last few nights, too. If he settled the need to wrap her in his arms and comfort her warring with his desire to lay her out on the table and make love to her, maybe she’d settle down, too.
“Rory married Sadie a few months back. You might remember her from school. They’re expecting a baby. A little boy if the ultrasound is correct. They live in the house now with Granddad. Colt got married about a month before them to Luna.”
“I remember Sadie. She was two grades behind me. She has a younger brother, right?”
“That’s right. Sadie’s father passed several months ago. Her brother is in jail.”
Jamie’s eyebrow shot up in question.
“Long story. Rory saved her life and helped bring down a drug ring and stopped her brother from rustling all our cat
tle.”
“Wow. And I thought Montana living was boring.”
He grinned. “More steady than boring.”
Jamie bobbed her head to the side. “True. Still, I think there’s quite a story there about Rory and Sadie.”
“Let’s eat. I’ll tell you all about it.”
Jamie set the pot of shredded chicken with tomatoes, peppers, and chilies on the table next to the bowls of chopped lettuce, shredded cheese, sour cream, and flour tortillas. She took the seat across from him, grabbed a tortilla, and started stuffing it full of ingredients, more at ease with him than she’d been since they reconnected over ice cream that first night.
He followed suit and took the first bite. “Oh God, that’s good. Spicy, but not too hot.”
“You don’t like hot.”
“You do.” And he didn’t mean the food. She used to be wild for him to touch her. The more aggressive his need for her, the hotter her response. She used to love to sit across from him, her foot up on the chair, tucked between his legs, tormenting him as she playfully rubbed his throbbing cock. He’d drive her nuts, sliding his hand up her leg but never high enough to really satisfy her. Which made her torment him more. Most of the time, they didn’t finish the meal, too hungry for each other.
He resisted the urge to reach for her now, which only notched up his hunger for her.
Judging by the heat in her eyes as she stared at him across the table, her thoughts ran the same path his did down memory lane.
Neither of them made a move, the tension growing between them. To distract them both from something neither of them were ready for yet, he told her about Rory and Sadie, then about how Colt and Luna shared a kiss after Luna’s ex, who had been Colt’s best friend, punched Colt, then they spent months apart thinking they’d crossed some line.
“Turns out, they both wanted each other.” Like we do. “Now they’re inseparable.” Like I hope we will be again.
“So Colt is working for his wife on her ranch running Rambling Range, and Rory and Sadie live on the Kendrick spread. So where are you in all this?”
Did he detect a hint of jealousy in her eyes that he might have someone special, too?
He put any thoughts she had about that to rest. “Sadly, alone. Don’t get me wrong, I love seeing my brothers happy and in love with their wives, but that kind of leaves me the odd man out at the moment.”
“Do you still want to get married?”
After their long-ago plans never materialized, he guessed her question made sense, especially since he’d never found anyone else he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.
He nodded and gave her the simple truth. “I do. To the right woman.”
“I guess you haven’t found her yet.” He hated that she didn’t believe he’d wanted to marry her.
I’m looking right at her. I will make you believe in me again. “I’m working on it,” he said instead of his first thought.
Jamie eyed him. To keep her from backing off again, he went back to her original question. “Rory and Colt have what they want and Sadie gave me what I always wanted.”
“Really? What’s that?”
He eyed her across the table. “You already know.”
“Your own ranch?”
“Sadie kept her family’s place, fixed it up, and moved me in to take over. I’ve spent the last few months working on the place, getting it ready to run cattle again. I’ve still got a few projects to complete, but I’ll have the business up and running soon.” He hoped.
He’d fallen behind this week taking care of Jamie. He had to have everything in order before winter set in. “Colt just delivered three horses. I’ve got two hundred head of cattle coming next week.” And more in another two months if he could get the rest of the fencing done. The schedule he’d set cut things close. He might have to rethink his plans if Jamie needed more of his time. It meant that he’d either have to put out more money he didn’t really have up front to hire help and meet his deadline, or wait to add to the herd, which might complicate the breeding program he wanted to implement in the spring.
He still needed to cut and bale enough grass and hay to get through the winter.
Didn’t matter. He’d made the mistake once of putting ranch business before Jamie. He wouldn’t make that mistake twice. Still, the stress settled between his shoulders. He’d make it work. No matter what, Jamie’s health and well-being had to come first.
“Wow. You must be so happy to finally have what you wanted.”
“I am. For the most part. I mean, I’ve got the ranch, but the dream’s not complete.”
She wasn’t there. She was the missing piece that would make it all worth it. He wanted to tell her that, but she’d shut down again and shut him out, because she wasn’t ready to hear that from him. She wasn’t ready to give him anything more than the tenuous friendship they held on to now. Though they’d spent the last several days together, they’d barely done more than exist in each other’s company. Until tonight.
He ate up more than the delicious food. He devoured every bit of her attention and interest in his life, the way she relaxed as the seconds ticked by, and the building interest in her eyes that she couldn’t hide behind her instinctive urge to pull away, because she wanted to be close. To him, he hoped, and not just anyone who made her feel less alone.
“I have no doubt you’ll get exactly what you want out of that place.”
With every fiber of his being, he hoped so. But even having a thriving business didn’t compare to what he’d feel if he got her back.
What did any of it matter if he didn’t have her beside him to share it?
Why the hell did I let her go?
If he felt this connected to her even when she kept her distance, how could he have ever thought he could live his whole life without her? He couldn’t. He didn’t want to. He wanted her back. He wanted to make her happy. He wanted the life they’d once dreamed about to be their future.
He wanted everything his brothers had found with their wives.
“You’re a hard worker, Ford. You don’t give up. You don’t quit. I always liked that about you. I wanted to be like you in that way.”
“You are like that. Look at you, Jamie, and all you’ve endured. You’re still here. You survived.”
“The Army taught me that. Looking back, I realized I needed to toughen up and fight for what I wanted. I let my mother insult me and accuse me of things I didn’t do. I let her chip away at my self-respect and self-esteem until I ran.” Her soft, imploring gaze met his. “I ran away from what I really wanted instead of standing up to her and for what I wanted.” She looked down at the table. Her fingers traced the lines in the wood. “I believed the terrible things she said about me. I still hear her in my head. Every mistake I’ve made, every time I fell short of being and doing what I thought I should, I let her win because I believed what she said about me was true.”
“It’s not, Firefly. Deep down, you always knew that. That’s why you endure and survive. It’s your voice that speaks to you and pushes you to move on.”
“Too often these days, my voice is a whisper I barely hear and hers is a shout that rings in my head.”
“But you do hear that whisper. All you have to do is believe in it, Firefly, and it will drown her out.”
“It seemed so much easier to hear when I was away and living the military life. I loved my work, the people I served with, the sense of being a part of something bigger than myself. I needed that after I left. I thrived on it.”
“What you did was courageous. Driving in the supply line with a target on your back every time you went out . . .” Ford shook his head. The same sense of dread he’d carried with him since he found out what she did for a living washed over him again. He’d lived in fear of something happening to her. It had, but she’d survived and come home. To say that he was grateful to have her alive and sitting in front of him didn’t begin to describe the depth of feelings he had for her.
“I w
orked my way up to what you’d know as a management role. I hadn’t driven in the convoy for a long time. But that day, a few of us covered for other soldiers who came up sick with food poisoning. You know, adapt and improvise when things don’t go your way.”
“That change in personnel cost you in the end.”
“It cost several soldiers. Friends.”
“I’m sorry for that. I’m sorry you got hurt and you’re still hurting.”
Jamie’s gaze fell away again. She fidgeted with the collar of her shirt, trying to pull it up over the scars on her neck. Noticing his gaze, she stopped and sat back. “I’m trying.”
He took a chance and reached across the table, putting his hand over hers. “I see that, Jamie.”
She flinched at his touch, but overcame her initial reaction, leaned forward, and set her hand on top of his on the table. She hesitated a moment, taking her time to get used to touching him, someone, like she hadn’t done it recently enough to remember the comfort it offered. Her fingers softly traced the veins on the back of his hand like she’d done the lines on the table.
He tried to coax her out of retreating on him again. “You can tell me anything. I think you need to talk to me about it. I know you’ve got your shrink, and I’m happy you’re working with someone who can help you, but you used to tell me everything. I hope I made you feel better then. I’m trying to do that for you now, but you push me away even though you want to pull me close.” He pointedly looked at their joined hands, then back at her.
Jamie didn’t respond. She didn’t even look at him.
“Tell me I’m wrong.” He pushed, hoping she’d open up. Wishing she’d take one small step toward him instead of always retreating.
“You’re right. But I don’t know how to start. Where to start. I don’t like to talk about it because it makes it real all over again. What do you want me to do? Dump all my crap on you and prove I’m more trouble than I’m worth, that you have every reason to walk away again?”
Ford squeezed Jamie’s hand and didn’t let up. “I won’t walk away this time. I won’t send you away. I won’t let you go. I promise.”
His Cowboy Heart Page 8
