Healing a Heart

by Amy Lillard

  Jake

  The food was in the refrigerator as promised. He’d even thought to get the low-fat kind. She laughed when she saw the peaches. She sighed. She was glad she was only staying for a few more days. She wasn’t sure she could protect her heart for any longer than that. There was just something about that man.

  She took her yogurt to the window overlooking the corral. Several men milled around, but she had no trouble spotting Jake. Something in the way he walked, the way he carried himself. How could she barely know anything about him yet pick him out of a crowd of cowboys in a heartbeat?

  He looked particularly wonderful today in a deep red shirt and worn chaps. She caught only a glimpse of his jeans as he turned back to the man beside him, but what a glimpse it was.

  She gave the spoon one last lick and somehow peeled her gaze off him. The spoon went into the dishwasher and she was out the door, heading for the cluster of men just to the other side of the barn.

  He looked up and caught her gaze. But how did he know she was coming? Could he sense things about her like she felt she could about him? She pushed the fanciful thought away.

  It was just lust. Lust brought on by hormones. She’d read it was possible. But that kiss last night . . .

  She had stayed awake half the night reliving every second of that wonderful kiss, then chastising herself for taking him up on his challenge. That was what it was. She knew it now. But at the time, she had been too close to the action to see things clearly.

  Well, it wasn’t happening again. Something told her that he still loved his wife. The haunting look in his eyes whenever someone brought her up. The occasional look he gave Wesley at the dinner table. They were small looks, quick as a wink, but they were there all the same. Just another reason why she couldn’t marry him. It would be hard enough to compete with all the live women who wanted to be the next Mrs. Langston. She could never win with the late mother of his child.

  She waved, and he returned it, though most of his face was shaded by the brim of his cowboy hat.

  The men standing around Jake all turned to watch her come near. Even the fellow in the middle of the corral holding on to the horse’s bridle stopped to watch her.

  “Good morning.” Jake said, tipping his hat in that charming cowboy fashion. That was another thing she could get used to real quick.

  “Morning.”

  “I trust you slept well.”

  “Like a baby.” Liar. But he had started this insane competition between them. And she would be damned before she backed down to him.

  “Hey, boss, you gonna introduce us?”

  “I hadn’t planned on it.” He threw the words over one shoulder, then turned back to Bryn. “You ready for this?”

  “What exactly is this?”

  “Ranch hands.” He turned back around and started rattling off names. Bryn nodded politely at each of the men. There were five in all not counting the man in the center of the corral. Now that she was closer she recognized him as Joe Dan Stacey, the ranch foreman. “And this is Ol’ Buck.”

  The man had to be pushing ninety. He had skin like leather, bowed legs, and a back that was bent nearly in half. He reached out a gnarled hand to shake. “Nice to meet ya, girlie.”

  “Thanks for going to town for me.”

  “’Tweren’t nothing.”

  “Well, I still appreciate it.”

  “Uh-oh.”

  Bryn followed the ranch hand’s gaze. A car was pulling up into the drive, a cute little red convertible. And behind the wheel, a beautiful blonde.

  “A friend of yours?” she asked Jake.

  His lips were pressed thin and he shook his head. “Nope.” Then he pulled off his work gloves and started for the car.

  “Bobby, you timing this?” one of the hands asked.

  “Yep.”

  Then the bets started to fly.

  Bryn held up one hand. “Are you betting on how long it’ll take him to get her on the road again?”

  “Of course.” This from Bobby.

  “And did you make bets when I drove up?” After all, Jake had believed she was here for the same reason as Miss Little Red Mazda.

  Bryn had never seen a cowhand blush, so the flush that stained his cheeks was a new experience for her. Come to think of it, she wasn’t sure she had ever seen a grown man blush.

  “Yeah, but it’s all in fun.”

  “That’s it,” one of the guys said. “She’s backing up.”

  “What’s the time?” another asked.

  “Three minutes ten seconds,” Bobby answered.

  “Hot dog!” A wiry cowboy slapped his hat against his thigh. “Okay, everybody. Pay up.”

  “Yeah, yeah,” one man grumbled.

  The cowboys all pulled five-dollar bills from their pockets and handed them to the man. Bryn had the feeling that they had been passing around the same five-dollar bills since the magazine article went to print.

  “You’re a lucky skunk, Delbert,” Bobby said and handed over his own money.

  “What’d she want, boss?” one hand asked.

  “Directions. Everybody back to work.”

  The hands scattered, most of them scrambling onto the fence to watch the show.

  “You give directions often?” Bryn asked with a grin.

  “Shut it,” he said with mock seriousness. “You’re going to jinx me.”

  Joe Dan came over to the fence leading the horse, who plodded docilely behind him. “You wanna see if you can do anything with him?”

  “I guess.” Jake climbed up the fence and slung his legs over, dropping to the ground in one fluid motion.

  Bryn braced her arms across the top board and watched as he prepared to get on the sleek black horse. “This is the horse you’re riding?”

  “Yeah.”

  “He doesn’t look wild. I mean you have a bridle on him.”

  Jake nodded. “He’s bridle-broke. And we can put a saddle on him, but any more weight than that and he bucks like crazy.”

  “And you’re going to get on him?”

  “How else is he going to get broke?”

  “How else?” she muttered as he settled his hat a little further down on his head and reached for the reins.

  For a moment after he swung his leg across the horse’s back, Bryn thought he might be okay. Or maybe he had exaggerated the condition of the beast.

  Then the horse tossed his mane, his eyes rolled back in his head, and all hell broke loose. The beast arched his back, then kicked both back feet in the air, doing everything in his power to unseat Jake.

  The horse kicked again and again, shaking Jake all around on the saddle, but still he hung on. The cowhands on the fence whooped and hollered. A couple even whipped off their hats and cheered. The horse’s black coat glinted in the sun as he rose up one last time, pitching Jake off his back.

  Bryn gasped as he hit the ground with a thud, face-first. Dust flew up around him, momentarily hiding him from view. Joe Dan rushed over and grabbed the horse’s reins, but once Jake was off, the beast had immediately calmed.

  Bryn hurried down the fence closer to the spot where Jake had been thrown. “Are you okay?”

  Nothing.

  “Jake?”

  “Damn it!”

  Well, at least it was something.

  He rose up on his hands and knees, sputtering as he tried to stand.

  “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine,” he said. “Just . . . dirty.” He pushed to his feet, dusting off his chaps as he stood. But the mess on his chest . . .

  Bryn wrinkled her nose. “Is that what I think it is?”

  “Yes, ma’am. That would be horse shit.”

  She covered her mouth to keep from laughing. The cowboys around them had no such qualms.

  “Is tha
t a new perfume, boss?” one of them asked.

  “Yeah, yeah.” He slapped his hat against one thigh, then settled it back on his head. “Joe Dan, I’m headed to the shower.”

  “We’ll be here,” the foreman answered.

  Unlike the first time when Jake scaled the fence like a teenager, this time he walked around to the gate. His gait looked a little stiff.

  She held her nose as he came nearer. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “Of course. It’s not like this is the first time I’ve ever been thrown from a horse.” But he winced as soon as he was on the verandah and out of view of the corral.

  “You are hurt!”

  He shook his head. “I just got the wind knocked out of me. I’ll be fine.”

  “Should I get the doctor?”

  He stopped just a few steps short of the French doors that led back into the house. “If you’re going to hang out with cowboys, you need to learn not to insult their masculinity.” Then he continued on into the house without waiting for her response.

  Is that what she had done?

  With a shake of her head, she followed him inside. “Do you need something for the pain?” she asked, just trying to see how far she could push him. “I only have Tylenol.”

  His steps faltered as he started down the hallway toward his room. He didn’t bother to answer.

  “No worries. I’ll just check the freezer for an ice pack.”

  “Don’t you dare,” he growled, but never looked back.

  She laughed and continued on to the kitchen. She might have been teasing about the ice pack, but a cool drink of water sounded amazing.

  She remembered where the glasses were from breakfast the morning before and found one easily. Using the dispenser in the door of the fridge, she filled the glass and stood drinking it, gazing out the window that overlooked the corral.

  There was something undeniably beautiful about the bucking horse. The fluid motion, the arch of his back. The perfect kick that looked so practiced it was almost as if the whole dance had been choreographed.

  Her fingers itched for her sketch pad. It had been so long since she’d experienced the urge to design that she had almost forgotten what it felt like. She gulped her water down in a single swallow, then hurried to her room.

  She took a sketch pad everywhere she went and had since she was twelve. But she hadn’t drawn anything since just before Emery died. It was as if her brain was so focused on her sister that it couldn’t take the time for anything as frivolous as a jewelry design. And since then . . . well, she had been worried for months that her muse was gone. Poof. Disappeared like smoke in the wind.

  She grabbed her pad and pencils and sat on the edge of the bed, her fingers flying through the many sketches before her brain even realized them. The symmetry of the horse’s kicks, the curve in his back, the toss of his mane. On and on she drew little pieces here and there. Jake on the ground. The crown of his hat, even the way his chaps moved when he walked.

  She shifted uncomfortably. That was the worst part of being pregnant; she was just sixteen weeks and she felt like she had to pee all the time. Heaven help her when the baby got bigger. She wouldn’t be able to get two feet from a restroom.

  Thoughts and images still racing through her mind, she hustled over to the bathroom door, wrenched it open, and stepped inside.

  And there was Jake.

  A couple of things registered in her mind all at once: the bathroom was steamy and warm, and Jake was naked. Well, naked except for the teal-colored towel wrapped around his waist. Lucky, lucky towel.

  Er . . . “What are you doing in here?” Those were the only words her numbed brain could produce.

  He winced as he raised one arm above his head and peered in the mirror. “Showering.”

  She shook her head. “I know that.” She resisted the urge to stomp her foot. She wasn’t as angry with him as she was with herself for losing all sense of self when faced with a naked chest.

  Well, not just any naked chest. Jake Langston’s naked chest was a sight to behold. Smattering of dark hair over strong muscles. Muscles she knew hadn’t come from a gym. And a huge bruise just starting to form under his heart.

  She started to go to him, touch the skin, ask if it hurt, but there were more important matters on the table. More important questions that needed answering.

  “Why are you showering in here?” There. It may have taken three times longer than it should have, but she asked the question and that was the important part, right?

  “Because this is my bathroom.”

  When she had placed her things in the room, she hadn’t thought she would be sharing it. She’d simply deposited her toiletries on the counter, knowing she would have to pack them again real soon. She hadn’t thought to look inside.

  She opened the cabinet door to one side of the mirror. Towels, washrags, and generic toiletries. They could have belonged to anyone. She marched around him, careful not to touch him as she passed. The other cabinet told a different tale. Aftershave, razor, toothpaste. Again they could have belonged to anyone. Any man. But since he was the only man in the house, she knew they belonged to him.

  She looked up to the door directly across from the one that led to her room. “So that’s your room?”

  “You are quick.”

  She eased the toilet lid down and sat on it, the urge to pee long gone, lost somewhere in her desire for him and her shock that they were sharing a bathroom all this time and she had never figured it out. It was a miracle she hadn’t run into him in here before now.

  “When they told me my room was next to yours I didn’t expect—” She waved a hand around.

  “You didn’t expect to share a bathroom with me.”

  “Well . . . no.”

  “And you have a problem with this?”

  Like they hadn’t shared so much more.

  “It’s not a good idea.”

  “No?” He turned and braced his behind against the bathroom counter and crossed his arms. His bicep muscles bulged and once again she was keenly aware of him. The way he smelled, fresh from the shower. How tall, how strong. What a fantastic kisser he was.

  And how easy it would be to lean in and taste him.

  Wait . . . what?

  “No,” she said. “It is most definitely not a good idea.” She shook her head. “And why do these rooms connect anyway?”

  “When I married . . . we built onto the house. Instead of building us a new wing, we built Mama and Grandma Esther one.”

  “And you took the old rooms.”

  “You’re sleeping in Seth and Ty’s room.”

  “Fantastic.”

  “Oh, come on. We’re adults here. Surely we can share a bathroom for a couple of days. I mean, do you really want to move all your things now?”

  He was right. She hadn’t been thinking clearly. Wonder why. She wasn’t staying past Friday. After that she was heading back to Georgia. Back where she belonged.

  “Okay, fine.” She wanted to issue a bunch of ground rules and such to outline who got the bathroom and when, but once again words failed her. “Fine,” she said again. “Now get out of here. I have to pee.”

  • • •

  She all but shoved him out of the bath and back into his own room. He’d hang his towels up later, he thought as he pulled a new pair of jeans and another shirt from the closet. He slipped on his underwear and went over to the full-length mirror behind the door. The large bruise just below his heart had already turned an ugly shade of purple, the blood raising the skin. It was just about the size of a hoofprint.

  He wasn’t sure how the horse managed to pitch him, but he did. Jake was a much better rider than to let a horse throw him that way. He was distracted; that was all he could say. Once he’d seen Bryn standing by the fence, he knew he was sunk. Why had he even invited her
out this morning anyway? Because he couldn’t get that kiss off his mind. And if he couldn’t kiss her—smooching in front of half the ranch employees was definitely off-limits—the least he wanted was to see her.

  Of course it didn’t hurt that he was a wily one, that Last Dance. Jake had thought the name fanciful when he’d bought the beast. Now he knew a different meaning. Climb on his back and it may very well be your last dance.

  Gingerly, he slipped his arms into the clean shirt and fastened the snaps.

  That kiss last night. It had been building between them ever since she pulled into his drive. They could deny it all they wanted, but there was something brewing between them, something strong and sexy. But he knew she was leaving in a few days. Exploring what this thing was wouldn’t serve any purpose if he couldn’t make her stay.

  At first he had wanted to get married. It was only the right thing to do. But the more time he spent with Bryn Talbot, the more he just wanted her gone.

  Chapter Seven

  Bryn somehow managed to avoid Jake for the rest of the week. At least as far as the bathroom was concerned. During the day he was working, and she either played with Wesley or sketched on the verandah. The landscape here was so different from Georgia and she found a strange beauty in the harsh ground.

  “Something’s up,” Rick said. “I can hear it in your voice.”

  Bryn stood on the verandah, cell phone pressed to her ear when she should have been inside packing. She needed to leave tomorrow bright and early, and she wanted to get to Shreveport before dark. From there it was straight on to Atlanta. Two days from home and yet she felt so removed somehow.

  “I don’t know.” She sighed. That wasn’t exactly true. She did and she didn’t. It was Jake and his family and all the crazy reasons why she didn’t want to leave tomorrow. She could tell herself that she needed to get to know them better, but the truth of the matter was she wasn’t ready to go home. Not by a long shot. Even sharing a bathroom with Jake couldn’t dampen her time here. Not that he was a slob or anything. If not for his damp toothbrush in the holder, she wouldn’t know that he had been there at all. “I’m enjoying myself here.”

  She could almost hear him shrug. “Then stay.”