“You know what it means.”
“I’ve never met anyone worth committing to,” he said. That was all. Good women were hard to come by. She couldn’t blame that on him.
“No,” Naomi argued. “You’ve never let yourself trust anyone. Not since your mom left.”
He opened his mouth to object, but she went on. “I know you better than almost anyone, Lance. You have serious trust issues.”
Anger rose like a shield. “You’re one to talk.” She hadn’t even dated anyone since Mark took off.
Instead of lashing back at him like he expected her to, Naomi laid a hand on his arm. “Exactly. Which means I can recognize it.”
The admission disarmed him. What could he say to that? “Maybe it’ll never be possible for me.” Maybe his mother’s abandonment had jacked him up so bad, he’d never have a relationship. Maybe he didn’t even want to try.
“So what’re you gonna do?” Naomi asked again.
“I don’t know.” It wasn’t like he’d planned to have wild passionate sex with Jessa. He’d been in a rough place when she walked in. And right when he saw her everything seemed better. The opinion of the rest of the world hadn’t mattered so much. She might be the only person in the world who believed he could compete at Worlds. Who believed he could win one more title.
“Oh my God,” Naomi gasped. “Did we walk in on you two?”
“Not exactly.” The memory of Jessa crouched behind the island next to him baited a smile. That could be their secret, though.
“Is she still at your house?” the woman blurted. “You have to go talk to her! You have to make sure she’s all right!”
“She’s all right.” And yes, he’d talk to her. Later. He wasn’t going to stress about it. Wasn’t going to force things. And he sure as hell wasn’t taking Naomi’s advice again. “But after we’re done here, I’m gonna call Tucker and have him bring out Wild Willy.” The bull should be healed up by now and he needed to get serious.
Two minutes before Jessa had shown up on his doorstep, he’d been this close to quitting. But she’d given him the determination to train and to fight and to keep going.
And now, he’d do whatever he had to do to get back in that arena for one more dance.
* * *
She should probably leave Lance’s house, seeing as how he’d been gone for a half hour. Jessa had managed to retrieve her clothes—which by divine intervention had been strewn around the floor behind the kitchen island, saving them both from a potentially awkward conversation, had Gracie happened to have caught sight of a pair of women’s underwear lying out in the open.
After she’d dressed, she’d teetered around the kitchen on her still wobbly legs doing the few dishes that sat in his sink and walking around the living room like it was a museum, noting the beautiful prints hanging on the walls and the detailed woodwork and the titles of the vast array of books he kept on the shelves.
You could tell a lot from a person’s book collection and Lance’s was extensive. He liked local history and cowboy legends. Political thrillers and classics like Dostoyevsky and Tolstoy. She wouldn’t have pegged him for an intellectual, but then again, Lance was too layered to be pegged at all.
She knew she should leave, but she liked being there. She liked learning about him. She liked seeing how he organized his space and life. And yes, she liked him. Not just the sex, which had been…wow. But it went deeper than that. His tenderness. His loyalty. His sensitivity. He obviously didn’t want people to see those things in him, but she did.
The more time she spent with Lance, the more he revealed his true heart to her—the one that had been wounded and left him wandering, much like her own. And the more she saw of his heart, the more she realized she could love this man. If she let herself. She could. That was a dangerous prospect. Because she already knew he didn’t let himself love anyone.
So she had to leave. Walk out his door and not look over her shoulder. Accept the fact that things wouldn’t be the same when they saw each other again. He’d be distant like he had been earlier. And she’d be unsure.
Steeling herself, she made her way across the sitting room and peeked out one of the front windows to make sure she wouldn’t be caught. If she was honest, part of her hoped Lance would come back and find her there, that they could hold on to the connection that had rooted them together when he was looking into her eyes, holding her body, kissing her. It would be like a scene from a movie. She’d swing open his front door and he’d be standing there, just about to walk in because he’d realized he couldn’t live without her. Then he’d kiss her and while he was kissing her, he’d sweep her into his arms and close the front door—locking it this time—and maybe he’d take her on the soft leather couch…
But Lance didn’t come. No one was outside, and while disappointment weighted her chest, that was perfect because at least she wouldn’t get caught sneaking out of his house. Quickly, she opened the door and slipped outside, eyeing the horizon for any glimpse of Naomi or Gracie. Once on the front porch, she ran, stumbling down the steps before racing to her truck. She climbed inside and sped down the road to Luis’s house, taking an extra few seconds behind the wheel to collect herself so she didn’t seem harried and panicked.
Carefully she straightened her hair, glancing in the rearview mirror. God, she looked like she’d just had passionate sex. Her face was even still flushed.
Shaking her head at herself, she climbed out of the truck. Hopefully Luis wouldn’t notice…
“Hey there.” The man himself greeted her from the rocker on his porch as if he’d been sitting there waiting for her. He’d even brought out little Ilsa. The pig was curled up on his lap.
“Hi,” she said brightly, going to sit by him. She loved his rocking chairs. He’d made them himself from the thick aspen branches he’d found on the property.
She settled in and stared out at the view. If Luis had noticed her sitting in the truck trying to primp herself back to normal he didn’t let on. And he didn’t ask why she’d just driven down from Lance’s place.
He probably didn’t have to.
“So how’s our patient?” she asked, reaching over to ruffle Ilsa’s ears.
“Seems fine.” He handed over the pig and Jessa nuzzled her against her cheek. Ilsa still smelled like the scented shampoo she’d used when she’d bathed her.
The rocking chairs creaked for a few minutes before Luis turned to her. “Sorry I left Green’s house like that,” he said gruffly.
“No.” She patted his hand. “It’s okay. I probably overreacted.” That morning already felt so long ago. So much had happened between then and now.
“Nah. It was a fool-headed thing to do,” he mumbled as though angry at himself. “There’s no excuse.”
That was what bothered her. Luis never did fool-headed things. He’d always been careful and deliberate. Not rash. He thought things through.
She glanced at him, trying to interpret the disheartened expression on his face. A glimmer of intuition flared inside her and she drew in a breath of courage. “Are you sure you’re okay, Luis?” Because he’d left the ladder in the middle of the yard. And even if he had been angry at Hank or even if he’d really been thirsty, he would’ve propped up the ladder near the house or left it in the garage…
“There’s nothin’ for you to worry about,” he said, clearly not answering her question. He could’ve simply said no, but he hadn’t.
Worry weaved itself into the threads of her fears. “If there was something, you could talk to me about it, you know.” Though she hadn’t meant for it to, emotion laced the words. “I could help you figure it out.” She would do her best. In so many ways, this man was all she had left of her father. They’d shared years together. He’d known her dad even better than she had.
Luis rocked in his chair, his old hands gripping the armrests. “It’s tough getting old,” he finally said. “Feeling your body give out on you.”
Give out on you how? she wanted to ask.
What wasn’t he telling her?
“Makes you think about all the things you’d do differently.” He was gazing off to the mountains in the distance as though seeing a whole lifetime of regrets play before him.
The sad pull to his lips clawed at her heart. “What would you do differently?”
“Too many things to list,” he said with a humorless laugh. Then he turned to her, those eyes watery and sure. “But you know what I regret the most?”
“No,” she said, her eyes locked on his.
“I regret not making things right with Lucas.” He looked away from her again, but not before she saw tears brighten his eyes. “I was hard on him when they came for him after he set that fire. Said a lot of things I can’t take back.”
For the life of her, she could never imagine Luis saying a mean or hateful thing to anyone. But he’d likely been different back then.
“I’m sure he knew you were just angry,” she offered. The fire had tarnished the Cortez family name. It divided the town, hurt Luis’s own legacy…
“I told him I never wanted to see his face again.” The old man’s hands trembled and his grip on the armrests seemed to tighten. “But I didn’t mean it. Didn’t mean one word of it.”
“Of course you didn’t,” she whispered, hidden tears thickening her throat. This poor man. Living with that grief all these years. “Have you ever tried to contact him?”
“I’ve kept up on him.” His gaze lowered to the ground. “Through other people. He works for the McGowen Ranch down in Pueblo. Tried to send him a letter years back, but didn’t ever get a response.” Another garbled laugh sputtered out. “Can’t say I blame him. He’s built a good life for himself. Even after all he went through. No thanks to me.”
“You’re the one who gave him a foundation,” she pointed out.
“But I should’ve been there for him,” he said sternly. “I should’ve helped him through it.”
“You did your best.” In her estimation, every parent screwed up in some way or another. But Luis loved his boys. That was obvious. “I mean, look at Lance. And Levi. You have a great relationship with them.”
“Not with Levi. He don’t ever want to come home. Stays out on the circuit, away for his training.” The man looked at her with that hollow gaze again. “Truth is, Jessa, my boys deserved better than me. All of ’em.”
That wasn’t the truth. Not at all, but she knew nothing she could say would take away his regrets. The only peace he’d find was through rebuilding what he’d lost with Lucas.
“I sure wish I knew ’em now.” She barely heard the words above the rocking chair’s creaking. “The way I know Lance.”
“I’m sure they wish they knew you, too.” God, she’d give anything to have her father. He wasn’t perfect, but he was still her dad. Surely Lucas felt the same way. “I wish they knew you the way I know you. I wouldn’t have survived this past year without you, Luis.”
That earned a small smile. “I could say the same,” he said, patting her hand. “Buzz would be proud of you.”
“Thanks,” she whispered. So much of who she was had come from her father. And that had to be true for Lucas and Levi, too. No matter what had happened in the past, Luis was still part of who they were. No one knew that better than her. Her dad’s death had left a gaping hole in her life, but Lucas and Levi still had their father. And what if something was wrong with him? Then they might not have him much longer. She studied the tremors in Luis’s hands. What would Lucas and Levi think of the symptoms Luis was obviously battling? Would they say it was nothing like Lance had?
Apprehension built inside her. They should at least know what was going on with their father. If Lance wouldn’t tell them, someone else should.
She stood abruptly, cradling Ilsa against her chest. “I should go inside. I have some work to do.” For starters, she had to contact the McGowen Ranch and talk Lucas into coming home.
Chapter Fifteen
Lance slung his dirty chaps over the stable’s gate and brushed the dust off his jeans. He’d had a stellar training day, no doubt thanks to Jessa’s pep talk and the extracurricular activities that had taken place in his kitchen. God, had it been almost a week ago? Ever since, he’d been out in the corral at the first light of dawn until well after sunset, occasionally breaking to eat or drink something. All in all, he’d managed to bring up his time consistently to eight seconds. His ribs and back might be aching now, but it was a good ache, familiar and dull. The kind of ache that told just how hard his muscles had been working.
Every day, Jessa’s words had driven him. Along with thoughts of seeing her, being with her again. He fantasized about her all the time, but instead of distracting him, those thoughts now drove him. She drove him. But between his training and her and his dad’s long hours at the shelter, he hadn’t seen much of her. A wave here. A quick hello there.
It was not enough for him. Anticipation had built all week, and he couldn’t hold it off anymore. Soon, he’d leave for Worlds. He couldn’t miss out on spending some time with her before then.
So, desperate or not, he’d decided to show up at Luis’s for dinner tonight. Then maybe the two of them could get out for a walk. Or a drink back at his place.
He hauled his gear onto the shelf and stepped out of the barn into the dusky evening. The sun was already sinking behind Topaz Mountain, giving the world that surreal pinkish glow. Perfect mood lighting, he thought as he trekked down the driveway to his dad’s place. He really should stop at home and clean himself up, but if he did, he’d risk missing dinner. Besides, maybe after dinner, he could convince Jessa to soak in the hot tub with him. Just the two of them. Under the stars…
He almost broke into a jog as he veered to the left and over the small rise to Luis’s house. Jessa’s truck sat out front, but there was another truck, too. One he didn’t recognize. Wouldn’t be right of him to barge in on dinner if they had company, but he couldn’t turn around, either. Not knowing Jessa was there. Not when the thought of seeing her made him ache like this.
So he hurried up the porch steps and pushed through the door without knocking. “Hello?” he called inside the entryway, where he stopped to stomp the dirt off his boots.
“Lance?” Jessa careened around the corner and hurried down the hallway.
“Hey.” He let his eyes drink her in, the soft hair that framed her face, the smooth skin that had felt so soft against his lips. She wore tight tapered jeans and a long white shirt, casual, but seductive in his eyes. She could be wearing a snowsuit right now and she’d look seductive. God, he could come apart just looking at her.
But then he noticed the thing at her feet. He blinked. A small black-and-white pig. On a harness and leash? “Uh. What’s that?”
Jessa looked down as though just remembering she was taking a pig for a walk. In the house. “Her name’s Ilsa.”
“Ilsa?” He laughed.
“Yeah,” she shot back. “What’s wrong with that?”
“Just seems like there’s something more suitable. Like Ham Bone. Or Pork Chop. Or Bacon,” he said, eyeing the critter like he was hungry.
“Don’t even think about it.” Jessa scooped the thing up into her arms. “I didn’t know you were coming,” she said, glancing nervously over her shoulder.
“I wanted to see you.” More like had to see her. Had to touch her again. Had to kiss her. He closed the distance between them and skimmed his hand along her lower back, nudging her—and the pig—closer.
A pink glow lit up her face just like the sunset outside.
Voices drifted from the kitchen but he tuned them out. He didn’t care who was in there. He needed a minute alone with Jessa. Now if he could just figure out how to ditch the pig…
“Lance…” Jessa’s breathing had quickened, and her eyes seemed as hungry as he felt. But then she glanced back over her shoulder again. So distracted. He’d have to take care of that right now. First, he gently took the pig out of her hands. The thing squealed and squirmed as he s
et it on the floor, then it took off down the hall. Which was fine with him. They could discuss the pig later.
“I missed you,” he said, sliding his hand up her back and pressing her against him, meeting her lips in the middle. The need for more of her swelled, threatening to rip him apart. He kissed her harder and her mouth opened to his, a small moan stirring the lust he felt into a fervor.
“Wait,” Jessa gasped against his lips. She pushed back. “Just hold on. We have to talk.”
Right. Talk. He suppressed the urge to take her hand and tow her back to him. They probably should discuss what happened between them. He still hadn’t apologized for abandoning her in the kitchen. “Sorry I had to run out on you,” he said. “I didn’t want to. Believe me.” If she needed proof, he’d be happy to offer it. All she had to do was feel him against her to know how much he wanted her.
“It’s fine,” she said brushing him off with another glance toward the kitchen.
Right. The company. The voices. They’d go. In a minute. But first he had more to say. He had to tell her what her words meant to him. How they’d given him a second wind. “I wanted to thank you for—”
“You don’t have to thank me,” she interrupted quickly. “But I think we should talk about—”
“We can talk about it later. Right now, there’s something you need to know.”
“Jessa!” The call came from the kitchen and knocked the air out of Lance. That voice. He hadn’t noticed when it was subdued and murmuring, but now…
No. No way. That couldn’t be Lucas.
But his brother appeared in the hallway. No longer a kid, instead a man with familiar blue-gray eyes. His hair was shorter and neater than he used to keep it, and he looked clean-cut for a rancher.
Shock bolted Lance’s heart to his ribs. What the fuck was he doing here?
He said nothing as his brother walked toward them. It’d been so long since he’d seen him. Since they’d agreed it would be best if he cut ties and never came home…
Luckiest Cowboy of All--Two full books for the price of one Page 43
