Jesse laughed. “Roll in the hay?”
“Yes, I’m getting the cowboy lingo down.”
“I’ve never used that term in my life.” He plucked hay off her left breast, then cupped its weight. “Of course, I’m not much of a cowboy,” he murmured.
“You’re not helping.” It was crazy how easily he could have talked her into sinking back down to the blanket. She had no willpower when it came to him. Scary. Except it wasn’t. Jesse seemed more familiar to her than Brian ever had, even after they’d lived together nearly three years.
His odd remark finally clicked. “What do you mean you’re not much of a cowboy?” In answer, he kneaded her breast, and she swatted his hand away. She bent and scooped up the blanket before either of them got any stupid ideas. “Why did you say that?”
“I don’t know.” His sigh was far from contented now. He sounded annoyed. “The blanket’s full of hay. It’s getting all over you.”
All right, she wouldn’t press. But she hated the feeling his words and grim tone had left her with. The blanket was already folded in half, and she folded it in half again. He was right...more hay had stuck to her sweater. “Well, this is great. No guessing where we’ve been and what we were doing.”
“Leave it.” He took the blanket from her and tossed it onto a railing. “I’ll take care of it tomorrow.”
“Okay.” She smiled, even though her face was in shadow and he couldn’t see her. Continuing to dust herself off, she headed toward the ladder.
“Wait.” Jesse exhaled sharply. “That was a thoughtless remark. It doesn’t mean anything.”
“Fine. I won’t give the matter a second thought.” She touched his face to reassure him, and he caught her hand.
He gave it a gentle squeeze. “Cole and Trace, they’ve been here through the hard times. After our dad died, Cole poured his heart and soul into learning every aspect of running this place. His entire life has been dedicated to this ranch. Even Trace, for all his strutting and horsing around, worked his ass off while his high school friends spent their weekends partying. Trace never complained. The Sundance always came first. He’s a smart guy and could’ve done well in college but he didn’t go. Didn’t even give it a try. He chose to stay here and help Cole.”
“College isn’t for everyone,” she said calmly, trying to ease his mounting tension. God, why now, why here? She’d suspected something was eating at Jesse and she very much wanted to hear him out. But they needed privacy, a place to sit without fear of someone disturbing them. She could suggest they continue in her room, though she had the feeling that once he stopped talking, he’d withdraw again. He’d shut her out. “Do you regret choosing a different path than your brothers?”
“Not really. Cole went for a year of school before Dad was diagnosed but he hated being cooped up in a classroom. He quit and came home. Even when the place was making money, he and Trace were outside working right alongside the hands. They love the land. They love what they do. There’s nothing else for them but the Sundance. The ranch is their life.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” There was no place to sit except for a bale of hay. She looped an arm through his and steered him toward it.
“Where are we going?”
“Right here.” She sat first and hoped he’d follow suit.
He hesitated, and she held her breath, hoping the moment hadn’t been lost. Finally he lowered himself to the spot next to her, letting his thigh touch hers.
Shea shifted so that their upper arms touched, too. Oh, how she wished she was better at this. Did Jesse need the closeness, or would she scare him off? Should she simply listen, reserve comment? She had no idea what he expected from her, or how she could best be his friend.
One thing she knew for sure, she didn’t want to be this frustrated and nervous while they talked. She breathed in deeply, slowly let it out, repeated the exercise, letting go of anything that might interfere with the moment.
“We should go inside.” He shifted, moving his leg slightly away from hers.
She clasped her hands together, sick that she’d already failed. “Talk to me,” she said.
“There’s not much to say. I don’t know why I brought up that crap.” He sighed.
“Must be a reason.” Her voice shook a little. She hoped he hadn’t noticed. But she couldn’t worry about it. All her energy was focused on staying put and not running away because this was hard. Outside her comfort zone by a mile. But this was also Jesse. She had to see this conversation through.
He’d turned to look at her. The light was better here near the wall, and he could see her face. She could see part of his, though not his eyes. “What’s wrong?” he asked, closing one large hand over both of hers.
“Please don’t try to change the subject or make this about me. I want to hear about you.”
He frowned. “I’m not doing anything. You’re shaking.”
“Oh.” Her tiny whimper of defeat sounded pathetic. No, she wouldn’t crumble. Not now. “Look, I want to be here for you, be your sounding board, but I’m really bad at this kind of thing and all I want to do... God, Jesse, I don’t want to screw up....” She stared down at their entwined hands. “Will you just talk to me?”
Even though she’d averted her gaze, she felt his stare. She’d said too much. Why couldn’t she have kept her mouth shut? She should’ve bolted while she could. It was so much safer.
He let go of her hands, and her heart sank. Then he slid his arm around her and pulled her against him. His body was warm and his heartbeat steady. He kissed her hair, gently rubbed her arm. She felt safe. The idea was startling and intimate, and ironically reignited the urge to run. But she understood a lifelong habit couldn’t be overcome in one night.
Still shell-shocked, she almost laughed. A few minutes ago she’d been trying to calm herself in order to soothe him. Now he was doing it for her.
“You’re brave,” he whispered.
“I’m not. I’m really not.”
He smiled against her cheek, then kissed her. “Remember the other day at the shack when I told you about how I offered to quit school after my dad passed away?” he asked, and Shea nodded. “When my mom and Cole told me it wasn’t necessary, that I should finish college, I was mad. I thought they were being stubborn and irrational, but more than that—” he took a deep breath “—I felt useless. Disposable. They might as well have said they didn’t need me.”
“Oh, Jesse...” She twisted around to look at him. “That isn’t true. They would never feel that way. Not your family.” She stared into his shadowed eyes, hoping she could make him see. “Never.”
“Yeah, you’re right.” He shrugged, and she wasn’t sure he believed his own words. “I was young and grieving and trying to find my way in life. I really wanted to come home, share the burden and make this ranch the best spread in the county. Like any kid, I wanted my parents to be proud of me. Even though my dad was gone, I imagined him smiling down at me, thinking that’s my son, a true McAllister. He belongs at the Sundance.”
“Your mom does feel that way—your brothers, Rachel, they all do.”
He gave her a faint smile and squeezed her thigh. “You just met them.”
“I don’t care.” She shook her head. “I know I’m usually not a good judge of people, but I’m not wrong about this. The morning Cole and Trace brought us home, when I was sitting in the kitchen with your mom and Rachel... They were being so nice. They were genuinely concerned for me, and I was feeling weird, not knowing how to act or what to say, and then I had this epiphany.” She’d spoken so fast she had to stop to take a breath. “All my life my value has been my intelligence. I wasn’t appreciated for being kind or funny or for simply being a child. I was my father’s pet, my mother’s pawn, my teachers’ greatest accomplishment.
“As I got older nothing changed. My classmates, coworkers, Brian, my boss, everyone around me reinforced what I’d learned as a kid. I was expected to produce. Social participation, not necessary. M
y IQ defined me and everyone I’ve ever known has wanted something from me. Except you, Jesse. And your family. You don’t care how smart I am or if I’m going to make stockholders rich. I sat in your kitchen and realized that the McAllisters just want to be sure I’m okay.” She swallowed a lump of emotion. “So you see, even clueless, inept me knows something about your family. Don’t underestimate them. You do them a disservice.”
She’d gone too far. Said too much. He was staring at her with the same remote expression he’d worn that morning in the kitchen. She could barely see any sign of the Jesse she knew. Damn him. Damn herself for sticking her nose into matters about which she knew nothing.
Still, she didn’t shut up. “You’re not useless, not then, not now,” she said with a fierceness she hadn’t known she possessed. “I bought in to everyone’s crap and stayed nice and safe inside my bubble. I threw myself into my work. So I admit, feeling as if I don’t belong is partly on me. I let it happen. Because now if I’m not the best at what I do, I’m worse than useless, I’m nothing. Your family loves you. You matter. That’s not a small thing.”
She felt drained. Stunned that she’d revealed so much about herself. But she had to get up, be sure she could stand. Make it down the ladder and then to her room.
She almost made it to her feet when he pulled her onto his lap. “Don’t go,” he whispered, his voice husky.
She buried her face in his shoulder. Her eyes were moist and he didn’t need to see that. If she’d gotten through to him, it was worth having exposed herself.
“You must think I’m a selfish, thoughtless bastard,” he murmured, his breath warm on her neck.
“Of course I don’t.”
“You’re really something, Shea Monroe,” he said, leaning back so he could tip her chin up and look her in the eyes. “Thank you.”
Shea inhaled a shaky breath, which was a good thing because a moment later he stole it away with a kiss.
* * *
AT THE BACK DOOR, Shea had decided she wanted to stick to the plan of separately sneaking up to her room. But that meant anyone loitering in the kitchen had a view of the stairs leading up to the guest wing. Luckily only two women were gabbing at the table. Jesse distracted them while Shea slipped upstairs. She owed him big for having to endure Mrs. Wilcox’s drawn-out recounting of her latest bout with shingles.
He knocked twice at Shea’s door before letting himself in. She lay stretched out on the queen-size bed, naked, the cream-colored sheets draped over her hips. Her pretty pink nipples were already puckered and beckoning him, yet all he could do was stand there and stare, his heart slamming his chest.
Her debt for the Wilcox ordeal? Paid in full.
She smiled, then blew at the long bangs getting in her eyes. “What kept you?”
He’d already jerked the buttons free, and he shrugged out of his shirt, dropping it on the wood floor as he walked toward her.
His boots and jeans came off next. But he made sure he grabbed the condom out of his pocket before he chucked the Levi’s. God, he wanted her with a desperation that wasn’t like him. But then Shea stirred all kinds of unfamiliar feelings. He’d told her things...things he’d never said aloud.
How could someone so sweet and inexperienced reduce him to mindless mush? He hadn’t been thinking about his future, about the epic decision he had to make. The truth was, reenlisting was looking like a less viable option. When he was with her, or even thinking about being with her, life seemed perfect. She thought she was different, clueless. She was so wrong. Shea Monroe was wiser and more in touch with reality than anyone he knew.
And brave. So damn brave. Sharing her innermost fears and hurdles with him to help him see that he might have made some wrong assumptions, himself. She’d given him a lot to think about. But right now he had to have her.
She looked absolutely beautiful lying there, her hair spread out, color high in her cheeks as she waited... For him.
“What’s wrong?” she asked softly, worrying her lower lip, her gray-blue eyes growing dark with concern, probably because he’d been motionless, staring.
“Nothing,” he said, pulling back the sheet and crawling in beside her. “Just thinking how beautiful you look.”
Her lips parted in protest. He covered them with an openmouthed kiss, using his tongue with a thoroughness he hoped expressed something for which he couldn’t find the words.
He moved down to kiss each breast, her stomach, each hip bone while he sheathed himself.
She spread her thighs for him, and he positioned himself between them, using all his willpower not to just bury himself inside her. He leaned over, framed her face with his hands and looked into her eyes as he slowly entered her until they were as close as two people could be. Then she lifted her hips and clutched his shoulders. That was all he could stand.
He began to move, and she was right there, so in sync it was as if they’d done this a thousand times before, that their bodies had a language of their own. Neither of them looked away, they barely blinked. The connection was as real as the heat between her legs, as the rush that started in the deepest part of him until he couldn’t hold back.
A low moan of pleasure tore from her throat as she trembled with her own release. And damn if he didn’t hold on to her as if he never wanted to let go.
17
CHRISTMAS MORNING DAWNED bright and sunny, the air inside the house fragrant with pine, sweet rolls and coffee as Shea descended the stairs, trying to shake her worry over the still-missing Caleb. Everyone was on the lookout for the roan, and there wasn’t anything more she could do, so she needed to focus on the moment. On Christmas.
Jesse had left earlier to feed and water the stabled horses while she’d showered, and it surprised her that she wasn’t the least bit nervous to enter the kitchen alone. Even knowing she’d have to make small talk with Barbara, Rachel and anyone else who was responsible for the heavenly smells making her tummy growl. Mostly, though, she was excited. So very happy.
Yesterday, after her shift at Safe Haven and Jesse’s return from delivering the Cessna to the airstrip, the whole family sat down to dinner. They’d automatically included her in their tradition of giving each other small wrapped gag gifts, hers and Jamie’s contributions thoughtfully provided by Rachel, and singing carols in front of the fire.
The three guys refused to sing, apparently also an annual custom, but that didn’t stop them from laughing at Rachel’s and Jamie’s off-key renditions of the holiday favorites. Shea escaped ridicule by lip-syncing. Trace had called her on it, and instead of being embarrassed, she’d felt included. Last night had been the best Christmas Eve ever.
“Merry Christmas!” Rachel and Jamie said at the same time when they saw her come through the door. They were sitting at the table with steaming mugs, sharing a cinnamon bun.
Unexpectedly emotional, Shea opened her mouth to respond in kind and found her voice wouldn’t work. She just stared at them for a second and then said, “Oh.” She cleared her throat and lied. “I haven’t used my voice yet.”
Rachel cracked up, then with a sly wink, said, “Yeah, guess my brother isn’t much of a talker this early.”
Jamie rolled her eyes. “God, Rachel, we really need to get you hooked up. I promise they had better things to do than talk.”
Shea’s cheeks got a bit warm. Of course everyone knew about her and Jesse sleeping together but no one had said anything.
Rachel groaned. “No kidding. This dry spell is killing me. Good ol’ Blackfoot Falls,” she muttered. “Screw it.” She stood. “I want my own disgustingly fattening bun.”
Jamie thought that was pretty funny. Smiling, Shea crossed to the coffeepot, again struck by the impossible idea that Jamie had only known everyone for a few months.
“Rachel, get back to the table. You, too, Shea.” Jamie glanced over her shoulder at the door, then waited for them to join her. “Cole and I planned to tell everyone later, but I can’t wait. And he laughed at my singing last night so the
hell with it. But I’m only telling the two of you so don’t say anything.”
Jamie sat across from them, excitement dancing in her face, as she cast a last glance toward the door.
“All right, already,” Rachel said. “Jeez, tell us.”
Mirroring Rachel, Shea leaned closer. Her heart leaped and her breath quickened. They’d never understand the poignancy of this moment for her. Especially with Jamie looking from Rachel to Shea and back again. Shea belonged to this little group, right here, right now. She totally belonged.
“I’m moving here,” Jamie said, her hazel eyes shining. “Right after the holidays. I’m packing up everything, selling my condo and then I’ll start working from—”
“Oh, my God.” Rachel jumped up. Her chair flew backward. She rounded the table, her arms open. “Oh, my God. Jamie. This is so awesome.” They hugged for a long moment, then Rachel moved back, dabbing at her eyes.
“Congratulations,” was all Shea could think to say.
“Thanks.” Jamie beamed. “I travel a lot, and that won’t change much for now, but in between I basically work from home. As long as I have my computer, I’m good.”
“I can’t believe it.” Rachel sniffed. “Cole and I will be fighting over you,” she said, and they all laughed. Then Rachel looked at Shea. “You work with a computer, don’t you? God, if you moved here, too, that would be so cool.”
Shea let out a short laugh, startled. Her heart had begun pounding, but really, what could she say to something so crazy?
“Okay...” Cole’s amused drawl broke up the party. He walked into the kitchen, shaking his head. “I’m betting someone couldn’t keep her mouth shut,” he said as he pulled Jamie into his arms.
She tilted her head back, and with a haughty smile said, “You’ve never complained about my mouth before.”
A grin tugging at his lips, Cole kissed her.
“Gross,” Rachel said in a whiny twelve-year-old voice. She carried her mug to the counter, grinning at Shea.
On a Snowy Christmas Night Page 18
