He only frowned at her.
"You got de Lorean," she clarified. "You stayed on here to help out while Garrett took his honeymoon. But he and Chelsea will be back tomorrow. So what are you going to do next?"
He shrugged. "No idea."
Jessi dipped her head quickly to hide her sudden smile from him. The birth canal was clear, so she gripped the calf's legs again, preparing to pull when the cow pushed. Soft baby-brown eyes blinked open and stared at her, unfocused and shining.
"You could stay here," she said. Then she peered around the cow to see his reaction. "We were short-handed even before Garrett left."
"Your brother Ben is home now," Lash said. "You have plenty of hands."
"Adam isn't. He insisted he had to get back to that city-slickin' job of his in New York. Though we all know it's really just that he's scared to death of running into Kirstin Armstrong and finally having to ask her why she left him at the altar and married old…" The cow pushed, and Jessi pulled. The calf's shoulders passed through. "That's it, girl. Once more. Just once more."
"Come on, girl," Lash said to the cow. "You're doing great."
"Anyway," Jessi continued, as she awaited what would, she hoped, be the final push. "We could use you here. I know I could." He glanced at her sharply, eyes narrowed. "You're a natural with the animals," she said quickly. "Why, we could even put you in the extra bedroom up at—"
"Not on your life," Lash said. And again, Jessi popped up to meet his eyes.
"You think there's something wrong with my house, Lash Monroe?"
"Just a bit crowded, is all," he told her. "Been there. Done that. Didn't like it."
She scowled at him, but he went on.
"No, ma'am, Lash Monroe doesn't like crowds. And he doesn't like ties, either. Family or otherwise. I may stick around for a while, but then again, I might just pull up stakes and flit off as soon as your brother comes back. I pride myself, you see, on being just as free as a bird. That's all I want out of life, and so far, it's exactly what I got. I aim to keep it that way."
The cow pushed. Jessi pulled. The calf slid into the world with a whoosh, and Jessi hefted the hundred-pound baby bull in her arms, not letting him hit the floor. She eased him gently into the fresh hay she had waiting. "Untie her, Lash, so she can meet her newborn."
Lash loosened the halter ropes, and the cow turned around fast, bending her long neck and licking at her infant calf with so much vigor the newborn was knocked over sideways with every swipe of his mother's tongue.
Jessi turned and peeled off the gloves, then headed into the room at the far end of the barn to deposit them in the wastebasket, and scrub her hands thoroughly at the sink there. She hadn't liked Lash's response to her question. Then again, there wasn't much he said or did that she did like. He insisted on seeing her as a kid, just the way her brothers did. It was damned infuriating. Especially when it was coming from him—the one man she'd ever met who made her want to come across as one hundred percent pure Texas woman. Not that she'd shown it. Not yet, anyway. She had to figure out how to proceed first.
"So you're ready to move on, eh?" she asked, pretending it was only small talk. "Well, I can't say as I blame you. The work here is tough."
"I didn't say I minded hard work."
"Right," she said as she cranked off the faucets and reached for a paper towel. "Must be the dirt. You're from the city, after all. Can't blame you for going wishy-washy when it comes to the good fresh smell of cattle, can we?"
"Dirt doesn't bother me in the least," he said. "I was a firefighter, for crying—"
"Yes, but how long ago was that? I mean, you couldn't go back to it now, could you? Feeling as ancient as you do, and all."
"Now hold on a—"
"And it stands to reason that if you're getting too old and decrepit to fight fires, then ranching can't be much more to your liking." She sighed as he narrowed his eyes on her. "Probably you'll look for a nice easy job you can do from behind a desk, your butt cushioned by a soft chair as it slowly turns to flab." She deliberately craned her neck and focused on the part of his anatomy in question, shaking her head and clicking her tongue. "Cryin' shame, too." She tossed her head and moved past him into the barn. The cow had licked the calf until his curly red-and-white coat stuck up in all directions. The little one had even managed to get to his feet.
"Did I do something to make you mad, Jessi?" Lash asked, coming up behind her.
She glanced over her shoulder. "'Course not." Then she lifted the calf in her arms and carried it around its mother. "Talk to her again, Lash. Let's see if this little fella is hungry." It was always a trial showing a newborn calf where to find nourishment for the first time, but even more of a trial getting a first-calf heifer to let her newborn suck.
Of course, Jessi suspected Lash had no clue about any of that. She listened to him crooning at the cow as she guided the little one's head to its mother's udder.
At the first taste, the calf began sucking madly, then suddenly jammed his head upward, in an action known as "bunting" that seemed to be an instinctive one among calves. Unfortunately, his mother did not appreciate her swollen, sore udder being so rudely treated. The cow jumped and kicked. Her hoof caught Jessi along her right temple and felt something like a sledgehammer. Jessi sailed backward from the force of the blow, and hit the floor with an impact that knocked the wind out of her, but good.
"Jessi!" Lash lunged forward, falling on his knees beside her, and though his face swam before her eyes, she could see the alarm in his expression. She supposed it was directly related to the warm trickle she felt on the side of her head.
He tugged the bandanna from around his Stetson and pressed it to the wound, sliding his other arm beneath her shoulders and lifting her from the floor, searching her face. "Damn, you split your head. Are you okay? Can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up?"
She blinked her vision clear, and stared up into his eyes. Oh, man, she did like this. It was almost worth getting kicked. Lash holding her this way, bending over her—she could easily imagine that he was about to kiss her senseless, instead of just looking after a nasty wound. And she liked the fantasy so much that she moistened her lips, and lifted one hand to fan her fingers into the hair just above his nape. It felt every bit as good as she'd imagined it would. She liked the feel of it on her fingers.
"Jessi?" he asked, and he blinked in confusion. She smiled very slightly, and his eyes showed utter shock. They widened, then narrowed again. His brows drew together, and his gaze shifted downward to her lips. And then he couldn't seem to look anywhere else.
"Just what in the hell is all this?"
Lash dropped her so suddenly she nearly cracked her head again. Jessi suppressed a growl of utter frustration, and glanced over to see the calf now feeding happily on his own, the cow twitching and dancing a bit, but no longer fighting so hard. And beyond that, in the once again open doorway of the barn, she saw three big shapes silhouetted by moonlight and angry as all get-out.
"Just what in the hell does it look like?" she snapped. "I got kicked. But I'm fine." She got to her feet, ignoring the throbbing pain and the still slightly floaty sensation buzzing around in her head. She didn't forget to send a disgusted glare at Lash as she brushed the hay from her jeans, and then from her hair.
Wes didn't look as if he believed her. His dark Comanche eyes narrowed on her, then on Lash. Elliot just leaned against the barn door, grinning. Ben stood there without a hint of how he felt showing in his blue eyes. His shaggy blond mane moved with the breeze. Gosh, he was so quiet these days. She never knew what he was thinking.
To ease their minds, she lifted Lash's neckerchief away from her head, felt the bleeding start up again, saw her three brothers instantly pale and surge forward. They were so predictable, and all shouting at once.
"Jeez, Lash, how could you let this happen?"
"Damn cow is headed for auction first chance I have!"
"What the hell you doin' under a damned first-calf heifer anyway, Jess
? You should have asked one of us for help."
Ben scooped her off her feet and started toward the house. Elliot rushed on ahead to call Doc. Wes headed into the barn to install the mother and newborn in the holding pen in the back for the night.
"Put me down," Jessi ordered. "Dammit, Benjamin, I mean it!" But Ben just shook his head and smiled gently at her, carrying her the rest of the way inside.
"Relax and enjoy it, honey. You're bleeding, and that's no little cut. So tell me, what was our hired hand doing out there, just now?"
Jessi rolled her eyes. "Trying to stop the blood from oozing outta my skull, you big nosy lug. What did it look like?"
Ben shrugged. "Looked like he was fixin' to kiss you, baby sister. And I can tell you, the day he does will be the day he's hitting the road. Comprende?"
"Don't sweat it, Ben. He's already planning to hit the road. Any day now, as a matter of fact. You got nothing to worry about." She stared into his blue eyes—dark blue, like the Gulf at midnight, instead of pale silvery blue like Lash's—then she poked him in the chest. "But I'll tell you one thing, big guy. I'm gonna kiss who I want, when I want, and how I want, and if you try to butt in, it's gonna be your rear end hitting the road. And I'll be behind you, kicking it from here to El Paso."
He smiled at her, or came as close to smiling as he ever did since his wife died, then reached down to ruffle her hair.
Jessi let her head fall backward and rolled her eyes. She was going to go stark raving mad if she didn't find a way to change the attitudes of the males on the Texas Brand. One male in particular.
She glanced back toward the barn, saw Lash standing in the doorway, staring after her and looking a little confused. Damn. What would it take to make him—to make all of them—see her as a grown woman with a mind of her own?
What?
* * *
Chapter 2
« ^ »
Lash stood there watching Ben carry his kid sister into the house, and he wondered what the hell had come over him just now. For a second there, when he was leaning over Jessi, with her head cradled in the crook of his arm, he'd felt something … something really unexpected. Her shining brown eyes—as big and innocent as the newborn calf's—had met his and held them. Her tongue had darted out to moisten those full lips of hers. And … if he wasn't mistaken … her fingers had threaded into his hair in a purely sensual way. For the barest instant, the thought of pressing his mouth to hers had crept into his mind with an undeniable insistence.
He swept his hat from his head with one hand and pushed the other one through his hair. She was trouble, that Jessi Brand. Trouble with a capital T. Good thing her oldest brother would be back tomorrow and Lash's services here would no longer be needed. The sooner he got away from her … and her brothers … the better.
They were bad news. Arrogant and macho, every last one of them, and they tended to remind him of the boys he'd been raised with a bit more than was comfortable.
Well, all except for Garrett, of course. Lash and that big lug had sort of become friends. And friends didn't go around having impure thoughts about a friend's baby sister, now did they?
"Hey, Lash, you wanna give me a hand in here?"
Lash turned, sighing. Wes had installed the cow and calf in the pen. Now he was carrying a pail of warm water toward the pen, the hay having already been there waiting.
Wes didn't need any help. So he must want to talk, and that was the last thing Lash felt like doing just now. Hell, Wes was the hottest-tempered of them all. They all joked it was the Comanche blood in him that made him so, but Lash suspected it was nothing more than pure meanness. And while he was only Jessi's half brother, he took the role as seriously as any of her full brothers did.
Lash replaced the Stetson he'd taken to wearing since coming to Texas, sauntered into the barn and scooped molasses-scented grain from a bin to take back to the cow, since it seemed the only chore left to be done. As Lash lowered the grain into the pen, Wes said, "How old are you, Lash?"
He felt the hairs on his nape prickle. Mean or not, he'd like to grab hold of Wes Brand and shake him, and he didn't give a damn about the bowie knife the guy carried in his boot, or his skill at throwing it, either. This really wasn't any of Wes's business, though he supposed the bastard would disagree.
"Thirty-four," he said, and he faced his accuser squarely, leaning against the pen as if he hadn't a care in the world.
"Thirty-four," Wes repeated, black eyes piercing. "Jessi's twenty-three. You know that, right?"
"I know it."
Wes nodded. "Just checking. Wouldn't want you to forget it."
"I'm not likely to forget it," Lash replied. And he was telling the truth. He wasn't going to forget it. Jessi was far too young for him. And besides all that, she was exactly the kind of woman he didn't want. She was so used to being treated like a fragile princess, to being coddled and spoiled and protected by her big brothers, that she probably couldn't live without it. Why would he be attracted to her, even for that brief, insane instant? It was nuts!
"Garrett will be back tomorrow," Wes went on. He checked the gate on the pen to be sure it was fastened and started across the barn toward the door.
"I didn't forget that, either," Lash said. So Wes intended to give Lash his walking papers, did he?
"You planning to move on once he's back here?"
Lash nodded, heading for the door, as well. "That's the plan." And it was looking like a better plan with every second that ticked by. He was getting tired of the smell of cattle and fresh hay and horseflesh.
And that fresh sunshine-and-green-grass scent Jessi always seemed to exude. He was tired of that, as well.
Wes glanced over his shoulder. "Good," he said. "That's real good, Lash. For the best, I figure." He flicked off the barn lights and stepped outside.
Jessi had three stitches in her temple, a pounding headache and a bad attitude. The stitches hadn't been necessary. She could've slapped a handful of gummy pine tar on the cut and covered it with a bandage and been just fine. But no, her bossy brothers had insisted. And then they'd hustled her up to her bedroom and into her bed as if she were a six-year-old with the sniffles. They'd fussed over her until Doc arrived to throw them all out. And while Doc disappeared into her bathroom to scrub his hands, she'd slipped out of bed, tossing the ruffly pink comforter aside with a grimace and made her way to the window, with its matching ruffly pink curtains, to peer below.
Lash's decrepit-looking black car—the convertible from hell, she liked to call it—had still been parked outside. So he'd stayed. To make sure she was all right?
She scanned the darkness, and then she spotted him. He was perched on a bale of hay near the pasture gate, and every few minutes he glanced up toward her bedroom window.
She smiled broadly. He cared a little bit, then. Maybe. Or maybe he was thinking about that almost-kiss back in the barn. It had been an almost-kiss. She was sure of it.
Then Doc had returned and ordered her back to bed, and she'd suffered through a long night of being fussed over in the room her big brothers had decorated for her. If it wouldn't break their big, dumb hearts, she'd probably burn the furniture and paint the walls olive drab, just for a break from all the frills. But that would hurt them, and she wouldn't do that for the world.
It had been a long night.
This morning had been worse yet. They'd brought her breakfast in bed and informed her she'd be confined to her room. Doc, the old pain in the backside, had said she might have a mild concussion and advised twenty-four hours of bed rest. So Ben had gone off to the airport to pick up Chelsea and Garrett without her. And, dammit, she'd wanted to go along!
Despite Doc's silly orders, she wasn't in bed. She'd risen, showered and dressed and was now sitting in front of the prissy vanity her brothers had bought her, brushing her short rust-colored hair so that it covered the ugly white patch on the side of her head. Barely. With a sigh of disgust, she put the brush down and got up, went to the window and parted t
he stupid lacy curtains to look outside. She wondered what Lash was doing right now. Had he arrived yet this morning, or was he still at that apartment he insisted on keeping in town? And then she wondered what would have happened if her brothers hadn't burst into the barn when they did.
She'd seen something change in Lash's eyes as he stared down into hers. Something subtle, but real, she was sure of that. And she thought maybe he had been thinking about kissing her.
She wanted that man, dammit. Had wanted him since the first day he'd shown up on their doorstep. And what Jessi Brand wanted, Jessi Brand got.
Most of the time.
She wasn't going to give up on Lash. Of course, if he packed up and left town today, she would be doomed to failure.
She was just letting the curtains fall back into place when she saw the dust rising in the distance. Her heartbeat quickened, and she squinted at the road that stretched out beyond the arch over the driveway. And sure enough, Garrett's big old pickup truck bounced into view. Hot damn, Garrett was back!
She whirled around and raced into the hall and down the stairs. Elliot rose from his chair at her arrival. Little Ethan looked up from where he sat on the floor in his diaper and drool-spotted T-shirt and smiled at her, showing off his first two baby teeth. Ol' Blue lifted his head tiredly, but didn't leave his station, right beside the baby, as always. The hound dog acted as if he were Ethan's parent.
"They're back," Jessi said, pausing only long enough to scoop the baby up as she passed. She was on the front porch, baby on her hip, before the pickup came to a dusty stop out front. Then Ben emerged, followed by Chelsea and Garrett.
God, but those two looked happy. That woman was surely the best thing that had ever happened to her big brother. "Look, honey," she cooed to little Ethan. "Your aunt Chelsea and uncle Garrett are back!"
Garrett headed up the porch steps and wrapped Jessi in a bear hug that included the baby. Then he swept the little one from her arms. "Hey, Bubba! You've grown like a weed, haven't you?"
The Baddest Virgin in Texas Page 2
