by Jo Barrett
With a sigh, she turned from the window and went upstairs. Whatever Mark’s reasons for being in Iron Horse, Wyoming, it wouldn’t do her any good thinking on it. Right now her number one thought was Jackson.
She shouldn’t have blurted out that she loved him, but it just seemed silly to deny it any longer. He was everything she ever wanted in a man. Funny how he reminded her of her grandfather. His easy going nature, his crooked grin, and his willingness to help others no matter the inconvenience. He was someone her grandparents had treated like a son, and she knew they’d be more than pleased she’d fallen for him.
The only issue now was, should she sleep with him or not. She bit her lip, hoping whatever she decided he’d be okay with.
She kicked out of her jeans and slid into some lounge pants, a pair of fuzzy socks. Ditching her blouse and bra, she pulled on a thermal shirt a few sizes too big. With a steadying breath, she made her way downstairs and went straight to the freezer for some ice cream. Comfortable clothes went with comfort food.
The front door opened, and Jackson stepped inside. “It’s just me,” he called.
A quiver of longing raced across her skin. Although she tried to shake it off, she failed miserably.
“I’m in the kitchen. Want some ice cream?” she asked, forcing a normalcy she didn’t feel in the least.
The sound of his heavy boots against the hardwood floor echoed throughout the old house. She didn’t pull her head from the freezer, needing the frigid air to cool her heated skin. It didn’t seem to matter what she should or shouldn’t do, think on it or don’t think on it. Her body had already decided for her. She wanted Jackson with every beat of her heart.
“Got any chocolate?” he asked, oblivious to her internal ramblings.
She cleared her throat and grabbed the carton. “Yep, and some caramel to drizzle over it.”
Her hands full, she elbowed the fridge closed, then crossed to the table, not once looking him in the eye. If she did, he’d know exactly what was on her mind.
But before she could turn to the shelf for some bowls, he snagged her hand. “Hey, you okay?”
She swallowed, but still refused to meet his gaze. “I’m fine.”
He tipped up her face with a slight touch just beneath her chin. “Talk to me, sweetheart.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.”
His lips turned up in that wonderful crooked grin. “You’re beautiful when you blush, you know that?” He pecked a kiss to the tip of her nose.
“I can’t help it. I feel so—so—foolish.”
He wrapped his arms around her and pressed her close. “Nothing foolish about wanting to make love to each other, nothing foolish about it all.”
She wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her face to his chest. “We’ve only known each other for a few days.”
“True, but when it’s right between two people, it’s just right. There’s no arguing with how we feel.” He leaned back to see her face. “But how about we enjoy some ice cream before it melts and just let things happen.”
She nodded, then pulled from his arms and retrieved a pair of bowls and spoons and a scoop.
They took their time eating and talking and going over the events of the day yet again, but once the ice cream was gone, the dishes put away, there was reason left not to go to bed.
“I’ll sleep down here on the couch if you want me to,” Jackson said, still not sure if this was a good idea or not. Although he wanted to make love to her, he didn’t want to make any mistakes. It would kill him to lose her now.
She reached out and took his hand. Hers trembled inside his, which wasn’t all that steady either. “Come to bed, Jackson.”
Leading the way up the stair, he followed her, their hands still linked.
In the dim light of the small bedside lamp, they undressed and silently climbed into bed. At first, he only held her, relishing the feel of her warm soft body next to his, her head on his shoulder. And after a time, he thought perhaps she’d fallen asleep. Then her hands began an exploration of his body, followed by her lips.
Not much more a man could do but to follow her lead, and he wasn’t about to disappoint. Slowly and sweetly he made love to her, and she to him.
When the morning light seeped through the curtains, they both still lay in one another’s arms. His fingers rocked across her back, and she sighed.
“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.
She lifted her mussed head with a bright smile and rested her chin against his chest. “Better than I’ve ever slept before. All twenty minutes of it.”
They laughed, and he rolled her to her back, kissing her soundly. “Then you’ll have to find time to take a nap this afternoon. You’re going to need your rest.”
“And why’s that, Mr. Chase?” She toyed with a lock of his hair, then ran her fingernails across his scalp.
He arched into her hand with a moan. “Because last night was just the beginning.”
“Oh I hope so. I definitely hope so,” she whispered, pulling him down for another heady kiss.
Chapter Eleven
More than two hours later, Jackson managed to get himself outside, although it wasn’t easy. Every time they got close to one another as they dressed, the touching would start, which led to kissing, then to more. If they kept this up, they’d never see the light of day again.
He met with Garcia and Jeff and figured out what chores needed doing and set to work. The garden needed weeding, the barn was still a mess, and the pasture should be checked to make sure Morgan hadn’t cut the lines again.
As Jackson worked, his mind strayed to what his brother had said about combining the ranches. It was a good idea, one he hoped Clare would be in favor of, but looking up at the old farmhouse, he knew in his heart that she’d never want to leave it. It was one of the few places she had ever been happy.
A grin slipped over his lips as he studied the old place. There were a few new good memories made last night. His gaze drifted across the windows, the siding, the newly repaired porch, and he could see the two of them raising kids here. He might have to add on to the old place, but the structure was sound. It just needed some minor repairs here and there.
Clare stepped out onto the porch and waved him and the other men over to where she was setting up the picnic table with a light lunch. Near the edge of the house but on the eastern side out of the sun, they were able to enjoy their meal in the cool shade of an unseasonably hot day.
“I want to thank you for all that you’re doing for me,” Clare said, looking at Garcia and Jeff. “This old place isn’t much, but it’s mine.”
“We’re happy to help, ma’am,” Jeff said.
Garcia nodded. “And thank you for lunch, ma’am.”
Jackson grinned, relishing how well he already knew her. Yes, this was where they’d live, have kids, maybe grandkids. The image was so clear he couldn’t even begin to imagine another life for himself.
“Oh, my pleasure. It’s the least I could do,” she said.
Jackson gave her a quick wink just as his phone rang. He pulled his cell from the clip at his belt and looked at the caller id. “It’s the sheriff.”
As he listened to Sheriff Boyd, he gestured to Clare. She came over, and he held it out so she could hear what he had to say.
“Thanks to the informant, the men who attacked you were picked up and have given us a full confession,” the sheriff said. “Cutter was the one who broke into the house. His plan was to grab Clare and make a run for it back to California. But you showed up and interrupted him. That’s when he made a bad deal with the men who attacked you. It seems Cutter tried to stiff them on their deal, and things got out of hand. Supposedly the shooting was an accident. They were arguing over the money.”
Clare’s gaze met Jackson’s, the fear of what could’ve happened evident in her eyes.
“So Cutter really had been watching her,” Jackson said, slipping his arm around her waist.
“For a little wh
ile, yes. He showed up a few weeks ago and did some poking around for information before attempting to approach Clare. You just got in the way.”
“Thank God,” Clare whispered.
He squeezed her tighter against his side. “Thanks, Sheriff. I’m glad it’s all sorted out now.”
“That makes two of us. This thing with Morgan, however, is a different matter.”
“I think we’ll be able to handle that ourselves.”
“I kind of figured you would,” the sheriff said with a chuckle and ended the call.
Jackson put his cell phone away and wrapped both arms around Clare. “It’s over, sweetheart. You don’t have to worry about him or Morgan anymore.”
“Morgan’s not going to give up.”
“He will eventually,” he said, not about to voice his plans for the future just yet, but soon.
Clare too a long deep breath and rested her head against Jackson’s chest. “I know, but he’s such a pain in the rear.”
He chuckled and kissed the crown of her head.
“So we go home, boss?” Garcia asked with a wide grin.
“Nope, we get back to work. There’s still a lot to do around here. That is—” He looked down at Clare. “If it’s okay with the boss.”
Smiling up at him, she gave him a strong squeeze around the waist. “Oh who are you kidding?” She turned her gaze to Garcia and Jeff. “This ranch is part of—well, will be part of White Oak Ranch. So technically you are home.”
“So you finally asked her to marry you,” Kyle said, as he came around the corner of the house.
Billie Jo smacked him in the chest. “Sorry, Clare, he has absolutely no tact.”
Clare laughed and shook her head. “That’s okay, but I’m afraid Kyle’s got it wrong.” She looked up at Jackson and put her arms around his neck. “I’m asking him—you to marry me. Will you, Jackson? Will you marry me?”
He grabbed her by the waist and twirled her around with a whoop. “Whoohoo!”
Everyone laughed.
“I take it that was a yes,” Kyle said.
Jackson put Clare back on her feet and kissed her like there was no tomorrow. “I love you,” he whispered against her lips.
“And I love you,” she said, her eyes filling with unshed tears. She’d been loved by her surrogate grandparents on this land, and now she would love the man of her dreams, and with some luck, together they would love another generation on the same land.
A word about the author...
Jo currently resides in North Carolina with her patient and supportive family while she juggles her writing career and her position as a programmer analyst. She has won numerous awards and continues to write whenever she can. Someday, she hopes to take off her programming hat and write full time. So many of her dreams have already come true. What’s one more?
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