Jesse and Honey stared at each other while Jack washed his hands. He turned from the sink, still drying his hands with a dish towel, and asked his mother, “Are there any chores that need to be done before supper?”
Since Cale’s death, Honey had taken the responsibility for almost all the ranch chores her husband had done in the evening. When Jack offered, she realized there was work that still needed to be done in the barn that she would appreciate having Jack’s help completing. “You can feed the stock,” she said. “Also, I let General out into the corral. Would you bring him back inside the barn for the night?”
“Sure, Mom. Anything else?”
“That’s all I can think of now.”
Without looking at Jesse again, Jack pushed his way out the screen door and let it slam behind him.
The tension was palpable once the two adults were alone.
Jesse started to apologize for interfering, then bit his tongue. He had been hard on the boy, but no more so than his father had been with him. A tree grew as the sapling began. Now was the time for Jack to learn courtesy and responsibility.
“I don’t quite know what to say,” Honey began. “I don’t agree with your methods, but I can’t argue with the results. Maybe I’ve been too lax with Jack the past few months, but he took Cale’s death so hard, I…”
Jesse heard the tremor in her voice and took a step toward her. As soon as he did, she squared her shoulders and lifted her chin.
“It hasn’t been easy for any of us,” she said in a firmer voice. “But we’ve managed to get along.”
Jesse heard “without your help” even though she didn’t say the words. So be it. This was the last time he would get involved. If she wanted to let the boy walk all over her, that was her business. It was just fine with him.
Like hell it was.
“Look,” he said. “I can’t promise I won’t say anything more to the boy. We have to work together, after all. But I’ll try not to step on any toes in the future. How does that sound?”
“Like the best compromise I’m going to get,” Honey replied with a rueful smile.
“Guess I’ll go work on that fence.”
“I’ll take my bath early,” she said. “That way the bathroom will be free when you get back.”
“Fine.”
He had to walk by her to get to the door. Honey marveled at how small any room got with the two of them in it. She stepped back until she pressed against the counter, but their bodies still brushed. Jesse hesitated just an instant before he continued past her. He didn’t look back as he pushed his way out the screen door. But she noticed he caught the door and kept it from slamming on his way out.
Honey heaved a sigh—of relief?—when she had the kitchen to herself again. She wished she didn’t need Jesse’s help so much on the ranch, because she wasn’t at all sure she could handle having him around. His presence was already changing everything. She was beginning to feel things that she hadn’t ever expected to feel again.
Nothing could come of her attraction to Jesse. He was a drifter. Sticking around wasn’t in his nature. When the mood struck him, he would be moving on. And she would be left alone. Again.
She had best remember that when the yearning rose to let him get close.
FOUR
Honey scooted down, settled her nape on the edge of the free-standing, claw-footed bathtub and closed her eyes. Her entire body was submerged and steam rose from water that lapped at the top edge of the tub. There was no shower in the house, only this aged white porcelain tub. She smiled when she imagined what Jesse’s reaction was going to be when he confronted this monstrosity.
It was easy to blame the absence of a modern shower on the lack of extra money over the years she and Cale had been married. But the truth was, Honey loved the old-fashioned deep-bellied tub, with its brass fixtures and lion’s paw legs. Instead of putting in a shower, she and Cale had expanded the capacity of the water heater so it was possible to fill the giant tub with steaming hot water all the way to the top.
Honey had laced the scalding water with scented bath oil, and the room reeked of honeysuckle. She was reminded of hot baths she and Cale had taken together. Honey crossed her arms and caressed her shoulders, smoothing in the bath oil. And imagined how it would feel if Jesse…
Abruptly Honey sat up, sloshing water over the edge of the tub. Her eyes flew open and she looked around her. Her daydreams had seemed so real. For a moment it had seemed as though that man was here. In her tub. With her. His hands—never mind where his hands had been! And his mouth—Honey shivered in reaction to the vivid pictures her mind had painted.
“Horsefeathers!” she muttered.
Honey lunged up, splashing water on the floor, and grabbed for a terry cloth towel. She wrapped herself in it, then reached down to pull the plug. And felt a spurt of guilt. The water heater would fill the tub once—but not twice. Her remorse didn’t last long, and a smile slowly appeared on her face. Jesse Whitelaw could stand to cool off a little. A nice cold bath ought to help him along.
Honey was in her bedroom and had almost finished dressing when Jesse knocked at her door.
“Hey, there’s no shower in that bathroom,” he said.
“I know.” Honey tried to keep the grin out of her voice.
He muttered something crude under his breath, then said, “Where are the towels?”
“The linens on the rack in the bathroom are yours to use.”
Honey heard the water run for a short while, then stop. She left her bedroom and stood outside the bathroom door listening. There was a long silence, followed by a male yelp and frantic splashing. “This water’s like ice!” he bellowed.
“I know,” she said loud enough to be heard through the door. By now her grin was huge.
Jesse muttered again.
“I’m going downstairs to fix some dinner for Jack and Jonathan. Enjoy your bath.”
Her laughter followed her down the stairs.
Jesse shivered, but not from the cold. It was the first time he’d heard Honey laugh, and the sound skittered down his spine. His lips curled ruefully. At least now he knew she had a sense of humor.
He soaped a rag and washed himself vigorously, as though that could obliterate his thoughts of her. But Honey Farrell had gotten under his skin. Every breath he took filled his lungs with the honeysuckle scent she had bathed in. Everywhere he looked there were reminders that he had invaded her feminine domain.
The pedestal sink was cluttered on top with all sorts of female paraphernalia—powder and lipstick and deodorant and suchlike—except where she had cleared a tiny space for his things.
Jesse cursed a blue streak as he rinsed himself with the icy water, then grabbed a towel and stepped out onto the deepest pile rug he had ever felt beneath his feet. It was decorated with whimsical daisies—as was the towel he had wrapped around his hips. If his brothers could see him now, they would rib him up one side and down the other.
He quickly pulled on clean briefs and jeans, then slung the towel around his neck while he shaved. He debated whether to leave his straight edge razor and strop in the bathroom, then decided that as long as she had left the space for him, he might as well use it. When he saw his things beside hers, he pursed his lips thoughtfully. It was as though an unfinished picture had been completed.
He spread the damp towel over the rack and put on the shirt he had brought into the bathroom with him. He had hoped the steam from a hot shower would ease some of the wrinkles out of it. Since he’d ended up taking a cold bath, he had no choice except to shrug into the wrinkled shirt.
Jesse started to borrow Honey’s hairbrush but changed his mind and finger-combed his hair instead. It would hang straight once it dried no matter what he did with it now.
Jesse came down the stairs quietly and stood at the kitchen door undetected by the trio at the table. Honey was serving up her younger son’s dinner. Her face was rosy, probably from all that hot water she’d bathed in, he thought with a silent c
huckle. He was glad to see she wasn’t wearing black again, but he thought the pale green was wrong for her.
She ought to be wearing vivid colors—reds and royal blues—that were as full of life as she was. He liked the way the dress clung to her figure, outlining her breasts and defining her slim waist and hips. She looked very much like a woman, and he felt the blood surge in his loins at the sight of her.
He watched unnoticed as Honey brushed a lock of hair off Jonathan’s forehead. She put a hand on Jack’s shoulder as she set the salt and pepper before him. Then she found another reason to touch Jonathan. Jesse wondered if Honey had any idea what she was doing. He felt his body tauten with the thought of her touching him like that.
Jesse’s family members were fiercely loyal to each other, but they weren’t much for touching. He could count on one hand the number of times his mother had caressed him in any way. He hadn’t realized until now just how needful he was of Honey’s touch and the feel of her hands on his body.
“Oh, there you are!” Honey froze with her hand outstretched for the butter dish. She wondered how long Jesse had been standing there. He had a way of watching her that she found totally unnerving. His dark, hooded gaze revealed a hunger that took her breath away, but there was a yearning, almost wistful expression in his eyes as well.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked.
Honey took a good look at what the hired hand was wearing and frowned. She wondered what kind of life Jesse Whitelaw had led when this was all he had to wear to dinner. His jeans were clean but worn white at the stress points and seams. The faded western shirt was frayed at collar and cuffs and badly creased. His leather belt was dark with age and had a shiny silver buckle she felt sure he had earned as a prize at some rodeo. He wore the same tooled black leather boots he had worn all day; the scuff marks showed the hard use they’d had.
She almost offered to iron his shirt, then changed her mind. Somehow she knew he wouldn’t appreciate the suggestion. Besides, if he had really been concerned about his appearance, he could have asked for the iron himself. “I’m ready anytime you are,” she said.
The ride to Dallas’s place in Jesse’s pickup truck—which was barely two years old and in surprisingly good shape compared to his clothing—took barely an hour. Because of the long, uncomfortable silences between inane bits of conversation, it felt a lot longer.
Even in the modern West, a man was still entitled to his privacy. Thus Honey didn’t feel she could ask Jesse about himself. That left a myriad of other subjects, not one of which came readily to mind.
The silence was deafening by the time Jesse said, “How long have you known Dallas and Angel?”
Honey grabbed at the conversational gambit like a gambler for a deck of cards. “I met Dallas about four years ago when he and Cale started working together on assignments for the Texas Rangers. Dallas introduced me to Angel a little over a year ago, about the same time she and Dallas met each other.”
“How did the two of them meet?” Jesse asked.
“You know, they never said. Every time I asked, Angel blushed and Dallas laughed and said, ‘You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.’”
“How did you and that Philips guy meet?” Jesse asked.
That was more personal ground. Honey hesitated, then grinned and admitted, “Dallas invited me on a double date with Adam and Angel. By the end of the day, Dallas ended up with Angel, and Adam and I were a couple.”
“How serious are things between you and Philips?”
Honey shot a quick look at Jesse, but his expression was bland. “I don’t think that’s any of your business.”
“I think maybe it is.”
“I can’t imagine why—”
“Can’t you?” His piercing gaze riveted her for a moment before he had to look at the road again.
Honey’s pulse began to speed. She grasped at the opportunity to put the hired hand in his place once and for all. “Adam has asked me to marry him,” she said.
A muscle jerked in Jesse’s cheek. “You don’t love him,” he said curtly.
“You can’t possibly know whether I love him or not.”
He cocked a brow and his lips drew up cynically. “Can’t I?”
Honey turned to stare out the window, avoiding his searching look.
“Are you going to marry him?”
“I—” Honey considered lying. Perhaps if she told Jesse she was committed to another man, he would leave her alone. But she couldn’t use Adam like that—simply to keep another man at arm’s length. “No,” she admitted.
“Good.”
Nothing else passed between them for the few minutes it took to traverse the length of the road from the cattle guard at the entrance to Dallas’s ranch to the Victorian ranch house. At least, nothing in words. But Honey was aware of the portal the drifter had forced open between them.
“I won’t ever hurt you,” Jesse said in a quiet voice.
“You can, you know,” she said in an equally quiet voice.
His lips flattened. “I don’t want you to be afraid of me.”
“Then leave me alone.”
“I can’t do that.”
“Jesse…”
The Mastersons’ porch light was on, and Jesse pulled the truck up well within its glow. He killed the engine and turned to look at Honey. “Is it your husband?” he asked bluntly.
Honey felt the pain that always came with memories of Cale. “Cale is dead.”
“I know that. Do you?”
Honey gasped and turned to stare at Jesse. “What do you want from me?”
“More than it seems you’re willing to give.”
Jesse’s sharp voice cut through her pain, and Honey realized she was angry. “You can hardly blame me,” she said. “I’m not in a hurry to get my heart torn out again.”
“Who says you have to?”
Honey snorted inelegantly. “That sounds pretty funny coming from a man like you. How many women have you loved and left, Jesse? How long should I plan on you hanging around? And what am I supposed to do when you’re gone? I’d have to be a fool to get involved with you. And whatever else I might be, I’m no fool. I—”
Honey broke off when she saw Angel come running out onto the porch to greet them. She flashed Jesse a look of frustration and quickly stepped out of the truck and headed up the porch steps.
“It’s good to see you again, Honey,” Angel said as the two women hugged. She didn’t offer her hand to the drifter and kept her distance. “Dallas is putting the baby to bed. He’ll be down in a minute. Won’t you both come inside?”
She stepped away from Jesse and held the door. Honey saw the other woman actually shiver as Jesse passed by her. Honey wondered what it was about the drifter that caused Angel to shy away from him. Was it possible that Dallas had told her something about Jesse? Something sinister?
Honey shook her head and dismissed the possibility. She didn’t know much about Jesse, but she didn’t see him as a villainous figure. Probably there was something in Angel’s own past that was causing her to react so strangely to Dallas’s friend.
Dallas had none of his wife’s reservations. He greeted Jesse warmly and shook his hand. “I’m glad you could come on such short notice,” Dallas said. “I thought maybe we could talk about old times, maybe get reacquainted. How are your brothers and your sister?”
Honey’s eyes widened and she stared at Jesse as though she had never seen him before. “You have a family?”
Jesse grinned. “Two older brothers and a younger sister.”
“Where?” Honey asked.
“At the family ranch, Hawk’s Way, in northwest Texas near Palo Duro Canyon.”
So, Jesse wasn’t as much of a footloose drifter as he had led her to believe. He had some roots after all.
“Would anyone like something to drink?” Angel asked.
“Whiskey and water,” Jesse said.
“Iced tea for me,” Honey said.
“Dallas?”
&nb
sp; “I’ll join Jesse and have a whiskey, but without the water, Angel.”
Honey sat on the Victorian sofa and Dallas took the leather chair that was obviously his favorite spot in the living room. Jesse joined Honey on the narrow sofa. It barely held the two of them, and Jesse’s jean-clad leg brushed against her as he sat down.
Honey jerked away, then looked up to see if Dallas had noticed her reaction. He had. He looked concerned, but Honey wasn’t about to explain the sexually fraught situation to him. Honey grimaced and folded her hands together in her lap. It was going to be a long evening.
Or it might have been if Angel hadn’t been there. Honey had always liked Angel and had an affinity with the other woman that she couldn’t explain. She did her best throughout the spicy Mexican meal to focus her attention on Angel and ignore Jesse Whitelaw. She wasn’t totally successful.
It bothered Honey that Angel never got over her odd behavior around Jesse. Angel never quite relaxed, and her eyes were wary every time she looked at him. In fact, it bothered Honey enough that she mentioned it when she and Angel went upstairs to check on the baby after supper, leaving the men to stack the dishes in the dishwasher.
“You don’t seem to like Jesse Whitelaw,” Honey said bluntly.
Angel refused to meet her gaze, focusing instead on the baby sleeping in the crib. “It’s not that I don’t like him, it’s just…”
“Just what? Has Dallas told you something about him? Something I should know?”
“Oh, no!” Angel reassured her. “It’s nothing like that. It’s just…”
Honey waited while Angel searched for the words to explain her aversion to the drifter.
“When I was much younger, I had a bad experience with some Indians.” What Angel wasn’t able to tell Honey was that she had seen the tortured remains of a Comanche raid in 1857. But no one except Dallas knew Angel had traveled through time to reach this century. So Angel was forced to explain how she felt without being able to give specific details.
“Whenever I look at Jesse,” she said, “I see something in those dark eyes of his, something so savage, so feral, it reminds me of that time long ago. He terrifies me.” Angel visibly shivered. “Aren’t you afraid of him?”
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