A Love So Sweet

by Addison Cole

  The nerve of him, staring at me like I’m a piece of meat. Even if he was every girl’s dream of a cowboy come true in his tight-fitting jeans, which curved oh so lusciously over his thighs. She ran her eyes up his too-tight dark shirt and silently cursed at herself for involuntarily licking her lips in response. She tried to tear her eyes from his tanned face, peppered with stubble so sexy that she wanted to reach out and touch his chiseled jaw, but her eyes would not obey.

  “What’re you looking at?” she spat at the son of the man who had caused her father years of turmoil. When she’d first come back to town, she’d hoped maybe things had changed. She’d ridden by the Bradens’ ranch while she was out with Flame one afternoon. Rex and his family were out front, commiserating over an accident that had just happened in their driveway, resulting in two mangled cars. She’d tried to see if they needed help, to break the ice of the feud that had gone on since before she was born, but while his brother Hugh had at least spoken to her, Rex had just narrowed those smoldering dark eyes of his and clenched that ever-jumping jaw. No way would she accept that treatment from anyone, especially Rex Braden. Despite her best efforts to forget his handsome face, for years he’d been the only man she’d conjured up in the darkest hours of the nights, when loneliness settled in and her body craved human touch. It was always his face that pulled her over the edge as she came apart beneath the sheets.

  “Not you, that’s for sure,” he answered with a lift of his chin.

  Jade stood up tall in her new Rogue boots and settled her hands on her hips. “Sure looks like you’re staring to me.”

  Rex cracked a crooked smile as he nodded toward the water. “Redecorating the ravine?”

  “No!” She walked over to Flame and ran her hand down his flank. Why him? Of all the men who could ride up, why does it have to be the one guy who makes my heart flutter like a schoolgirl’s?

  “Taking a break, that’s all.” She couldn’t take her eyes off of his bulging biceps. Even as a teenager, he’d had the nervous habit of clenching his jaw and arms at the same time—and, Jade realized, the effect it had on her had not diminished one iota.

  “Lame stallion?” he asked in a raspy, deep voice.

  Everything he said sounded sensual. “No.” What happened to my vocabulary? She’d been three years behind Rex in school, and in all the years she’d known him, he probably hadn’t said more than a handful of words to her. She narrowed her eyes, remembering how she’d pined over each one of his grumbling syllables, even though they usually came after a dismissive grunt of some sort, which she had always attributed to the feud that preceded her birth.

  “All righty, then.” He turned his horse and walked her back the way he’d come.

  Jade stared at his wide back as it moved farther and farther away. What if no one else comes along? She looked up at the sun making its slow crawl toward the sky, guessing it was only six thirty or seven. No one else was going to come by the ravine. She cursed herself for not carrying her cell phone. She wasn’t one of those women who needed to be accessible twenty-four-seven. She carried it during the day, but this morning she’d just wanted to ride without distraction. Now she was stuck, and he was her only hope. Getting Flame home was more important than any family feud or her own conflicting hateful and lustful thoughts for the conceited man who was about to disappear around the corner.

  She shook her head and kicked the dirt, wishing she’d worn her riding boots. The toes of her new Rogues were getting scuffed and dirty. Could today get any worse?

  “Hey!” she called after him. When he didn’t stop, she thought he hadn’t heard her. “I said, hey!”

  He came to a slow stop but didn’t turn around. “You talking to me? I thought you were talking to that lame horse of yours.” He cast a glance over his shoulder.

  Jerk. “His name is Flame, and he’s the best horse around, so watch yourself.”

  His horse began its lazy stroll once again.

  “Wait!” She gritted her teeth against the desire to call him a nasty name and shot a look at Flame, still favoring his leg, softening her resolve.

  “Wait, please.”

  His horse came to another stop.

  “I need to get him home, and I can’t very well do it myself.” She kicked the dirt again as he turned his horse and walked her back. He stared down at Jade with piercing dark eyes, his jaw still clenched.

  “Can you help me get him out of here?” Up close, his muscles were even larger, more defined than she’d thought. His neck was thicker, too. Everything about him exuded masculinity. She crossed her arms to settle her nerves as he waited a beat too long to answer. “Listen, if you can’t—”

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” he said, calm and even.

  “You don’t have to be rude.”

  “I don’t have to help at all,” he said, mimicking her by crossing his arms.

  “Fine. You’re right. Sorry. Can you please help me get him out of here? He can’t make it up that hill.”

  “Just how do you suppose I do that?” He glanced at the steep drop of the land just twenty feet ahead of them, then back up the ravine at the rocky shoreline. “You shouldn’t’ve brought him down here. Why are you riding a stallion, anyway? They’re temperamental as a baby with a bee sting. What were you thinking? A girl like you can’t handle that horse on this type of terrain.”

  “A girl like me? I’ll have you know that I’m a vet, and I’ve worked around horses my whole life.” She felt her cheeks redden and crossed her arms, jutting her hip out in the defiant stance she’d taken up throughout her teenage years.

  “So I hear.” He lowered his chin and lifted his gaze, looking at her from beneath the shadow of his Stetson. “From the looks of it, all that vet schooling didn’t do you much good, now, did it?”

  Ugh! He was maddening. Jade pursed her lips and stalked away in a huff. “Forget it. I can do this by myself.”

  “Sure you can,” he mused.

  She felt his eyes on her back as she took Flame’s reins and tried to lead him up the steep incline. The enormous horse took only three steps before stopping cold. She grunted and groaned, pleading with the horse to move, but Flame was hurt, and he’d gone stubborn on her. Her face heated to a flush.

  “You keep doing what you’re doing. I’ll be back in an hour to get you and that lame horse of yours.”

  An hour, great. She was aching to tell him to hurry, but she knew how long it took to hook up the horse trailer, and she had no idea how he’d get it all the way down by the ravine. She watched him ride away, feeling stupid, embarrassed, angry, and insanely attracted to the ornery jerk of a man.

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  Chapter One

  THE TIDE LAPPED at the sandy shore beyond the deck of the cedar-shingled bungalow where Kurt Remington sat on the deck of his cottage, fingers to keyboard, working on his latest manuscript. Dark Times was due to his agent at the end of the month, and Kurt came to his cottage in Wellfleet, Massachusetts, to hunker down for the summer and complete the project. He lived just outside of New York City and he wrote daily, sometimes for ten or twelve hours straight. In the summers, he liked the change of scenery the Cape offered and was inspired by the Cape’s fresh air and the sounds of the sea.

  He’d bought the estate of a local painter a few years earlier with the intent of renovating the artist’s studio that sat nestled among a grouping of trees on the far side of the property. Initially, Kurt thought he might use the studio as a writing retreat separate from where he lived, with the idea that leaving the cottage to work might give him a chance to actually have a life and not feel pressure to write twenty-four-seven. What he found was that the studio was too far removed from the sights
and sounds that inspired him, and it made him feel like even more of a recluse than he already was. He realized that it wasn’t the location of his computer that pressured him. It was his internal drive and his love of writing that propelled his fingers to the keyboard every waking second. The idea of making the studio into a guest cottage crossed his mind, but that would indicate his desire to have guests, which would mean giving up his coveted writing time to entertain. So there it sat, awaiting…something. Though he had no idea what.

  The cottage was built down a private road at the top of a dune, with a private beach below. A curtain of dense air settled around him. Kurt lifted his eyes long enough to scan the graying clouds and ponder the imminence of rain. It was seven twenty in the evening, and he’d been writing since nine o’clock that morning, as was his daily habit, right after his three-mile run, two cups of coffee, and a quick breeze through the newspaper and email. Once Kurt got into his writing zone each day, other than getting up to eat, he rarely changed his surroundings. The idea of moving inside and breaking his train of thought was unsettling.

  He set his hands back on the keyboard and reread the last few sentences of what would become his thirteenth thriller novel. A dog barked in the distance, and Kurt drew his thick, dark brows together without breaking the stride of his keystrokes. Kurt hadn’t risen to the ranks of Patterson, King, and Grisham by being easily distracted.

  “Pepper! Come on, boy!” A female voice sliced through his concentration. “Come on, Pepper. Where are you?”

  Kurt’s fingers hesitated for only a moment as she hollered; then he went right back to the killer lurking outside the window in his story.

  “Pepper!” the woman yelled again. “Oh geez, Pepper, really?”

  Kurt closed his eyes for a beat as the wind picked up. The woman’s voice was distracting him. She was too close to ignore. Get your mutt and move on. He let out a breath and went back to work. Kurt craved silence. The quieter things were, the better he could hear his characters and think through their issues. He tried to ignore the sounds of splashing and continued writing.

  “Pepper! No, Pepper!”

  Great. He was hoping to squeeze in a few more hours of writing on the deck before taking a walk on the beach, but if that woman kept up her racket, he’d be forced to work inside—and if there was one thing Kurt hated, it was changing his surroundings while he was in the zone. Writing was an art that took total focus. He’d honed his craft with the efficiency of a drill sergeant, which was only fitting since his father was a four-star general.

  More splashing.

  “Oh no! Pepper? Pepper!”

  The woman’s panicked voice split his focus right down the center. He thought of his sister, Siena, and for a second he considered getting up to see if the woman’s concern was valid. Then he remembered that his sister often overreacted. Women often overreacted.

  “Pepper! Oh no!”

  Being an older brother came with responsibilities that Kurt took seriously, as had been ingrained in him at a young age. That loud woman was someone’s daughter. His conscience won over the battle for focus, and with a sigh, he pushed away from the table and went to the railing. He caught sight of the woman wading waist deep in the rough ocean waves.

  “Pepper! Pepper, please come back!” she cried.

  Kurt followed her gaze into deeper water, which was becoming rougher by the second as the clouds darkened and the wind picked up a notch. He didn’t see a dog anywhere in the water. He scanned the empty beach—no dog there, either.

  “Pepper! Please, Pep! Come on, boy!” She tumbled back with the next wave and fell on her butt, then struggled to find her footing.

  Come on. Really? This, he didn’t need. He watched her push through the crashing waves. She was shoulder deep. Kurt knew about the dangers of riptides and storms and wondered why she didn’t. She had no business being out in the water with a storm brewing.

  Drops of water dampened Kurt’s arms. He swatted them away with a grimace, still watching the woman.

  “Please come back, Pepper!”

  The rain came in a heavy drizzle now. For the love of… Kurt spun around, gathered his computer and notes and took them inside. He checked to see that he’d saved his file before pushing the laptop safely back from the edge of the counter, then turned back to the French doors. I could close the doors and go right back to work. He eyed his laptop.

  “Pepper!”

  She sounded farther away now. Maybe she’d moved on. He went back out on the deck to see if she’d come to her senses.

  “Pep—” Another wave toppled her over. She was deeper now and seemed to be pulled by the current.

  “Hey!” Kurt hollered in an effort to dissuade her from going out any deeper. She must not have heard him. He scanned the water again and saw a flash of something about thirty feet away from her. Your stupid dog. Dogs were smelly, they shed, and they needed time and attention. All reasons why Kurt was not a fan of the creatures.

  The rain picked up with the gusty wind. Good grief. He grabbed a towel from inside and stomped down the steps, Dark Times begrudgingly pushed aside.

  LEANNA BRAY WAS wet, cold, and floundering. Literally. She’d been floundering for twenty-eight years, so this was nothing new, but being pummeled by rain, wind, and waves, chasing a dog that never listened? That was new.

  “Pepp—” A wave knocked her off her feet and she went under the water, taking a mouthful of saltwater along with her. She tumbled head down beneath the surface.

  Now Pepper and I will both drown. Freaking perfect.

  Something grabbed her arm, and she reflexively fought against it, sucking in another mouthful of salty water as she broke through the surface, arms flailing, choking, and pushing against the powerful hand that yanked her to her feet.

  “You okay?” A deep, annoyed voice carried over the din of the crashing waves.

  Cough. Cough. “Yeah. I—” Cough. Cough. “My dog.” She blinked and blinked, trying to clear the saltwater and rain from her eyes. The man’s mop of wet, dark hair came into focus. He held tightly to her arm while scanning the water in the direction of where she’d last seen Pepper. His clothes stuck to his body like a second skin, riding the ripples of his impressive chest and arms as he held her above the surface with one arm around her ribs.

  “Come on.” She coughed as he plowed through the pounding surf with her clutched against his side. She slid down his body, and he lifted her easily into his arms, carrying her like he might carry a child, pressing her to his chest as he fought against the waves.

  She pushed against his chest, feeling ridiculous and helpless…and maybe a little thankful, but she was ignoring that emotion in order to save Pepper.

  “My dog! I need to get my dog!” she hollered.

  Mr. Big, Tall, and Stoic didn’t say a word. He set her on the wet sand and tossed her a rain-soaked towel. “It was dry.” He pointed behind her to a wooden staircase. “Go up to the deck.”

  She dropped the towel and plowed past him toward the water. “I gotta get my dog.”

  He snagged her by the arm and glared at her with the brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen—and a stare so dark she swallowed her voice.

  “Go.” He pointed to the stairs again. “I’ll get your dog.” He took a step toward the water, and she pushed past him again.

  “You don’t have t—”

  He scooped her into his arms again and carried her to the stairs. “If you fight me, your dog will drown. He won’t last in this much longer.”

  She pushed at his chest again. “Let me go!”

  He set her down on the stairs. “The waves will pull you under. I’ll get your dog. Please stay here.”

  Her heart thundered against her ribs as she watched him stalk off and plow through the waves as if he were indestructible. She stood in the rain on the bottom stair, huddled beneath the wet towel, squinting to see him through the driving rain. She finally spotted him deep in the sea, wrapping his arms around Pepper—the dog who never let
anyone carry him. He rounded his shoulders, shielding Pepper as he made his way back through the wild waves.

  She ran to the edge of the water, shivering, tears in her eyes. “Thank you!” She reached for Pepper and the dog whined, pressing his trembling body closer to the guy.

  “You have a leash?”

  She shook her head. Her wet hair whipped across her cheek, and she turned her back to the wind. “He doesn’t like them.”

  He took her by the arm again. “Come on.” He led her up the stairs to a wooden deck, opened a French door, and leaned in close, talking over the sheeting rain.

  “Go on in.”

  She stepped onto pristine hardwood. The warm cottage smelled of coffee and something sweet and masculine, like a campfire. She reached for Pepper. Pepper whined again and pressed against the man’s chest.

  “He…” Her teeth chattered from the cold. “He must be scared.”

  “I’ll get you a towel.” He eyed the dog in his arms and shook his head before disappearing up a stairwell.

  Leanna scoped out the open floor plan of the cozy cottage, looking for signs of crazy. How crazy could he be? He’d just rescued her and Pepper, and Pepper already seemed to be quite attached to him. He went into the water in a storm without an ounce of fear. The man was crazy. It dawned on her that she’d done the same thing, but she knew she wasn’t crazy. She’d had no choice. To her right was a small kitchen with expensive-looking light wood cabinets and fancy molding. A laptop sat open beside two neatly stacked notebooks on the shiny marble countertop. The screen was dark, and she had an urge to touch a button and bring the laptop to life, but she didn’t really want to know if there was something awful on there. He could have been watching porn, for all she knew, although he hadn’t checked her out once, even with her wet T-shirt and shorter-than-short cut offs. She couldn’t decide if that was gentlemanly or creepy.