Barefoot Blue Jean Night

by Debbi Rawlins

  “But Kenny is all right?” Jamie said in the form of a question, not so sure she wanted the answer.

  “Oh, yeah.” Rachel waved a hand. “Married and living in Butte with his wife and three kids.” She got up, brought the carafe of coffee to the table and refilled their cups. “Mom, tell her the rest of the story.”

  Maybe Jamie had only imagined Barbara’s hesitation, but in good conscience, she had to make the offer. “Want me to explain what he told me and then you decide what you want to fill in?”

  Laughing, Rachel glanced at her mother. “Boy, you can tell she’s not from around here.”

  “What?” Jamie’s exasperation showed in spite of her efforts to keep it in check.

  “Anyone else would’ve been leaning forward, all ears.”

  “Isn’t that the truth?” Barbara sighed. “I appreciate your concern, Jamie, that was very thoughtful.” She smiled. “It’s not a big secret—nothing is around here—but I ask that you don’t mention our conversation to Cole.”

  “Of course not.”

  “Good enough.” Barbara took a sip of coffee. “The boys had been told a dozen times not to play around the abandoned property. Obviously they didn’t listen. They were alone when Kenny fell in. He was fortunate to get tangled in some roots and ended up on a narrow ledge, or more like a few jutting rocks. An angel was sitting on his shoulder that afternoon, because it was a thirty-foot drop that could’ve killed him otherwise.

  “Luckily, the boys had been practicing their lassoing so Cole had a rope. He dropped it to Kenny, told him to hang on and he’d pull him up. Cole couldn’t do it. Kenny was on the chubby side and with him crying so hard, the only thing Cole could do was to get the boy to tie the rope around his waist so he wouldn’t slip. Then Cole wrapped his end around his hand and waited for help. His voice was hoarse from yelling, and his small hands…” She briefly closed her eyes. “Dear God, they were so raw and bloody you could almost see bone by the time his father found him. He was convinced that if he let go for a second Kenny would die.”

  “So he stayed there holding the rope for five hours.” Goose bumps had surfaced on Jamie’s flesh and wouldn’t subside. She didn’t know much about normal eight-year-old behavior, but she’d been a year older when her parents had packed her off to Georgia, and she’d kicked and screamed like a baby.

  Barbara nodded. “That was just like him, for all his troublemaking, he was loyal and true.”

  “The story spread like wildfire through the county,” Rachel added. “I was still in diapers, but by the time I went to school, the story was still being told. Everyone kept saying, ‘if there’s one person you can count on it’s Cole McAllister.’ Nice sentiment, but not so much after it had been repeated a thousand times.” She smiled sadly at her mother. “Honestly, I think that’s why he’s so anal about shouldering everything that happens on this ranch. It’s that hyperactive sense of responsibility he can’t shake.”

  “I can see that,” Barbara said thoughtfully. “I also see him as that sad little boy who feels as if he failed.”

  “Failed?” Jamie finally found her voice again. “He was a hero.”

  “Not to Cole’s mind, I’m afraid. He couldn’t pull Kenny up and had to wait for help. By then both boys were dehydrated and bleeding. Sometimes I look at him—so serious, so filled with the need to protect us all—and I can see that little boy desperate to bring Kenny home.”

  Finding it difficult to swallow around the huge lump in her throat, Jamie brought the cup to her lips, hoping the liquid would help. All it did was remind her how much she hated lukewarm coffee, and she stared down at the offending brew.

  “You’re not eating your cobbler.” Barbara touched her hand. “If we’ve upset you, I apologize.”

  “No.” She concentrated on topping off her cup, not wanting them to see her moist eyes. “They didn’t even have water?”

  “They did, but Cole couldn’t reach it without letting go of the rope. I swear, that boy still would’ve been hanging on twenty-four hours later if he’d had to. But fortunately it didn’t come to that.”

  “Thank you for telling me the story.” Jamie’s voice broke. “Oh, God—I don’t know why I’m acting so weird.” She sniffed. “You’d think it had just happened.”

  “It’s called empathy.” Barbara cleared her throat and smiled as she reached for the carafe, clearly intending to change the subject. “Tell us about yourself, Jamie. Do you have a lot of brothers and sisters?”

  “No, it’s just me.” She had the ridiculous urge to apologize. “My parents live abroad and are both quite involved in their careers.”

  “Oh, is that what gave you the traveling bug? Going to visit them?” Barbara asked. “Rachel told me you write a travel blog.”

  Jamie thought about lying, but what was the point? “I honestly don’t see them all that much.” She sighed. “They’re very busy. But we email and talk…”

  Surprise flitted across Barbara’s face before she concealed it. Naturally a woman like her wouldn’t understand. Her family meant everything to her.

  “Good Lord, look what time it is.” Rachel got up and peered out the window. “I should make Cole a thermos of coffee.”

  Jamie blinked. “Is he out there?”

  “Not that I can see, but he should be along soon. He has the first watch.” She shoved the curtain farther back. “Hmm, I hope it doesn’t rain. Those clouds hovering over Mount Edith look pretty ominous.”

  “I heard we have a fifty-fifty chance of a scattered thunderstorm.” Barbara started clearing the table.

  Jamie hated thunder with a passion. Lightning she could abide, but the sound of thunder…at least it helped to know it might be coming. She realized she was still sitting there like a slug and jumped up to help Barbara. “What did you mean by ‘he’s taking the first watch’? Does that have to do with last night?”

  Rachel nodded. “The men are taking shifts between sundown and sunup. It’s just a precaution, and very low-key. I don’t want the others to know.”

  “No, of course not.” She put the stopper in the sink and grabbed the dish soap, and when both women looked at her with amusement, she said, “What?”

  Barbara chuckled. “I have a feeling it wouldn’t do any good to insist I take over.”

  “You’re right.” Grinning, Jamie took the plates from her.

  “Then I believe I’ll go upstairs and catch up on some reading.” Barbara surprised Jamie with a one-armed hug around her shoulders. “If you ever find yourself at loose ends during the holidays you’re always welcome here.”

  “Not as a paying guest,” Rachel said, laughing.

  “Good heavens, no.” Barbara flushed. “I meant as our personal guest.”

  “I may take you up on the offer sometime. Thank you,” Jamie said quietly, touched by the woman’s kindness. Though she doubted she’d ever actually accept, not unless Cole did the inviting.

  “She really likes you,” Rachel said after her mother left. “Holidays are sacred to her. It doesn’t seem to matter that all us kids are in her face every day. She likes having the family around her and observing traditions at Thanksgiving and Christmas. Her offer was sincere. I hope you take it seriously.”

  “I do. Frankly, I’m honored, though she barely knows me. Guess I’ve been butting in too much.”

  Rachel smiled absently, her expression betraying her faraway thoughts. “You and I are a lot alike. I think she sees that.” The coffeemaker made a weird burping noise signaling the end of its task. “This should be ready in a minute, mind taking the thermos out to Cole?”

  “Did you see him?” Jamie moved to the window.

  “No, but it’s getting dark so I know he’s out there. No way he’d miss his shift.”

  Jamie unscrewed the thermos lid and reached for the coffeepot. “He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to have company.”

  “I had a feeling….”

  “God, am I that sickeningly obvious?”

  “Pre
tty sure only to me,” Rachel said, then laughed when Jamie groaned.

  * * *

  COLE STOOD AT THE entrance to the barn and stared at the well-lit house with a feeling in his gut that was part relief and part disappointment. Jamie’s room was dark, which he assumed meant she was downstairs. He should’ve gone inside instead of grabbing a quick sandwich with Dutchy and Chester in the bunkhouse. Jamie probably thought he was avoiding her. To some extent he was.

  All his life he’d prided himself on his self-control and good sense. Around her, it seemed, he possessed neither. And it was a hell of a time not to have his head screwed on straight. If the economy wasn’t enough to run the Sundance into the ground, the new rash of thefts might be the icing on the cake. His hope was that whoever was behind the thievery had moved on. Not a particularly charitable thought since that could mean another rancher would suffer.

  He heard the kitchen door creak, reminded himself to oil the hinges and peered into the gathering darkness. Only the usual low overnight lights had been left on. No need to change routine and alert anyone who might have been watching the place.

  With the thick cloud covering it was darker than usual for the hour, but even in the dimness he recognized Jamie’s silhouette. How was it possible that he’d known her only a few days? How could he want her so damn much that it threw him off track? Made him forget that his first responsibility was to the Sundance and his family? That it would always be that way for him?

  What was it about her, dammit? Was it that lurking vulnerability she tried so hard to hide? On the surface she seemed to have it all. At least that’s what she’d have everyone believe. Behind the carefree smile and easy sophistication, there was a vulnerability that tugged at his heart. He didn’t quite understand it yet. Probably never would. She wasn’t the type of woman who stuck around for long.

  Jamie started to veer toward the stables then stopped, he suspected to allow her eyes to grow accustomed to the dimness.

  “Over here,” he said, moving into view. Her timing was good. It was too early for any trouble so he didn’t worry about being seen.

  She headed toward him, her lips lifting in a cheeky grin. “What makes you think I’m looking for you?”

  He waited until she reached him, then drew her back into the shadows inside the barn. Cole took the thermos from her, set it on the railing and nudged up her chin. Those damn kissable lips. He knew too well how soft they were. “Then tell me, Jamie, what are you looking for?”

  12

  HE’D STARTLED HER with the question. And with the way he’d caught her arm and pulled her close, right out in the open where anyone could see them. Admittedly, the light was murky and a person could assume he simply didn’t want either of them to be seen by a thief casing the place.

  She made no such assumption—she knew better. And not only because of the way he absently stroked her arm or how he brushed the back of his hand along her jaw. A spark had ignited between them and she had the sudden and distinct feeling that this was the night for fireworks. The only question was when.

  “Oh, I get it,” she said finally. “You’re trying to distract me.”

  “From?”

  “Telling you that I’m going to help you keep watch.”

  He lowered both hands, his expression turning flat. “No, you’re not.”

  “I am. Rachel thinks it’s an excellent idea.”

  He shot a frown toward the kitchen. “I don’t care. You have five minutes, then you’re marching right back into that house.”

  She wasn’t about to let him get away with pulling back. Not to mention she didn’t care for his bossiness. “You’re such a coward.”

  “Let’s put it this way…” He gave her the arched brow. This time, however, he looked more arrogant than amused. “How much watching do you think we’d get done?”

  “Wow, progress.” Impressed that he hadn’t pretended disinterest, she flattened a palm on his chest. His heart pounded as hard as hers. “Sadly, I see your point. But no, I will not be a good little girl and do as you’ve so charmingly ordered.”

  “It wasn’t an order,” he muttered. “It was a strongly worded request. I know you understand that I have to stay alert out here.”

  “Correct. That’s why we’ll behave like adults and refrain from making out.”

  “Making out,” he repeated with a snort. “Haven’t heard that term in a while.” Then he caught her wrist and pulled her hand away from his chest. “Not a good start.”

  Muted light from the house shone onto his face. The desire she saw in his sexy brown eyes made her pulse race like crazy. “I’m rethinking this. Are you officially on watch yet?” She moved so that her breasts rubbed against him. “Come on, you started this.”

  He opened his mouth as if to object, then shut it again.

  She laughed softly. “It’s barely dark. No one would be stupid enough to try and sneak in now. I promise that once we seriously need to pay attention, I’ll be as good as gold. But I figure we have at least an hour.”

  “For?”

  “Oh, I don’t know…” With the tip of her finger she traced his lower lip. “Nothing requiring us to get naked. Too risky. Just some kissing, and maybe I’ll even let you get to first base.”

  Cole laughed. It was a really good laugh, one she hadn’t heard before. “What exactly does that mean?”

  “Huh.” That stopped her. “I’m not sure.”

  He cupped her breast. “This maybe?”

  Shocked, she sucked in a breath. It would’ve been better if he’d reached under her shirt, but still… “I think you’re getting warm.” She exhaled slowly. “At least I am,” she murmured when he rubbed her taut nipple with his thumb.

  “See?” he whispered, his lips warm and moist against the skin below her ear. “This is what I was trying to avoid.” He found her earlobe with his teeth and tugged lightly. “I can’t do this, Jamie, not now.”

  “I’m not forcing you.” Her voice broke when he slipped his other hand under her knit top.

  He splayed his fingers over her ribcage, stilled for a moment, then held her by her waist and covered her mouth with his. She slid her arms around his neck, and pressed her breast against his palm. He deepened the kiss, plunging his tongue into her willing mouth.

  She deserved this agony. In teasing him, her own desire had sparked and raged like wildfire in her belly even though she knew it couldn’t lead to anything. She moved her hips against his, and found him so hard it made her ache with longing. His groan swept the inside of her mouth, vibrated in her chest and pooled like liquid heat between her thighs.

  Seconds later she sensed his withdrawal even before he moved his head back and broke the intensity of the kiss. His lips grazed hers, and then he brushed them back and forth. If he was trying for a cool-down, he’d missed the mark. She only wanted more. But then he lowered his hands and smoothed her shirt.

  “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I didn’t mean to get carried away.”

  He smiled against her mouth and caught her hand. Unprepared, she gasped when he pressed her palm against his bulging fly.

  “Like this?” His low gravelly voice did amazing things to her ultra-sensitive breasts. As if he understood the ache he’d inspired, he lowered his head and drew a puckered nipple into his mouth. Moist heat penetrated her thin shirt and bra, proving they were a token barrier.

  “Cole, this is…oh, God.” She whimpered when he used his teeth.

  “This is what?” he murmured, and she didn’t miss the hint of amusement in his voice.

  “War.” She dragged her palm down his fly and cupped him at the base.

  He bit off a curse that she somehow found immensely satisfying, until he lifted his head and said, “This is why you can’t stay out here.”

  She moved her hand. “Okay, I get it. Paws off for now.” At this point, she knew she was doomed to a long frustrated night, and vaguely wondered what it would take for him to swap shifts with the guy who was supposed to relieve hi
m. But if she suggested it, he’d probably send her back into the house for sure. “But that means you, too.”

  “Right.” His hand trailed away from her waist, one last brush of his fingertips across her midriff, his obvious reluctance making her hot again.

  She took a deep shuddering breath. “And you’re sharing your coffee with me.” Although some ice-cold water sounded pretty good about now. Two tall glasses. One to gulp down, the other to douse herself with.

  His teeth gleamed white in the dimness. “Yes, ma’am.”

  She noticed that he’d already set up a folding camp-style chair. “And I’ll need one of those,” she said, pointing, then noticed the rifle propped against the wall. It gave her the creeps. “I’m not standing all night…. How long is your shift, anyway?”

  “Four hours.”

  She did a quick mental calculation. “So we’re talking about one-thirty. Okay,” she said, nodding.

  “Glad you approve.”

  “I don’t. You won’t get any sleep tonight.”

  “No?”

  She paused. “Maybe an hour.”

  He chuckled. “Ambitious little thing, aren’t you?”

  “I’d prove it but we agreed we wouldn’t do that yet.”

  “Christ,” Cole muttered, and walked to the small window, facing north. He pretended to check the driveway, but she could tell he was adjusting his fly.

  Her gaze went back to the rifle. “Would you actually use that thing?”

  He turned. “The Ruger? If I had to.”

  “Have you ever…?”

  “I’ve shot my share of wolves and coyotes that were attacking the cattle.”

  “Oh, of course. Do you hunt?” She tried to keep the censure out of her voice. She understood the culture, still hated the idea of it, though. “I imagine that’s a common sport around here.”

  “Hunting should never be considered a sport. If you need the meat to feed your family, that’s different.” He moved the chair away from the wall. “Here. I won’t be doing much sitting.”