Into the Arms of a Cowboy

by Isabella Ashe

  They spent the rest of the day “playing house,” in Cassie’s words. The rain made a trip outside unappealing, and besides, she couldn’t bear to leave the coziness of the cabin. Together, they fixed a huge breakfast and feasted on eggs, sausages, hash browns, and Cassie’s special chocolate pancakes.

  Once they finished the dishes, Jess went out to feed Harry. Cassie freed the kits from their carrier and set them down on the freshly made fold-out couch. They were so active now, scrambling over the sheets and tumbling together like puppies.

  Cassie stretched out on the mattress and watched their play. Scamp was pawing at his brother’s stomach, making miniature growling noises. Rascal, the larger of the two, rolled over on his troublesome sibling, eliciting squeaks of protest from Scamp. Cassie laughed. “Look at you two. Can’t you get along?” she scolded, just as Jess burst back into the cabin.

  “Sibling rivalry,” he said, shedding his raincoat. “When we were kids, my sister Jenny and I beat up on each other all the time.” He shook his head, spraying Cassie with droplets of water from his dripping hair.

  Grinning, she held up her hands to shield herself. “Didn’t you have the advantage, being the boy?”

  He plunked himself down on the bed next to her, avoiding the rampaging kits. “Nope. Just the opposite. She was older and bigger, at least for a while. Of course, once I got bigger, she stopped taking me on. Physically, at least.” He grinned. “She still talks to me like I’m about six years old. Tells me I should settle down and give her a niece or a nephew. She’s one bossy woman, that Jenny.”

  Cassie sighed. “You’re lucky, though. I always wanted an older sister. Someone to explain all those things that confused me.”

  “Like what?”

  “Oh, you know. Girl stuff. How to talk to boys, figure out your bra size, put on mascara without poking yourself in the eye. . . . I had foster sisters, lots of them, but it wasn’t quite the same.”

  She kept her tone upbeat, but Jess’s dark eyes seemed to pierce her soul. “It must have been a lonely childhood.”

  Cassie shrugged, but her voice quavered a little as she answered. “I suppose so. I also remember feeling this crushing responsibility all the time--the need to take care of my mother--and a sense of shame, like there was something wrong with me because I’ve never had a real family. I don’t belong anywhere, or with anyone.”

  “Cassie.” He slipped his fingers under her chin and tilted her face up, forcing her to look him in the eye. His voice was gentle but firm. “You’re not alone anymore. You belong here, with me.”

  Yes, but for how long?

  Cassie brushed the thought away and gave Jess a trembling smile. “Thank you.”

  “I mean it.” A slight frown creased his rugged face. “You have a home here. Don’t you feel that?”

  Pain clawed at her heart. She did feel it. She’d never felt anything so strongly. But she wasn’t free to choose Jess, or to stay with him. First, she would have to face her past, and the ghost of Andrew Chabot. What price would she pay for her impulsive decision to run away that night?

  She watched the raccoons tumbling over one another. Their fur was thicker now, their dark masks more distinct.

  “They’re so different already, have you noticed?” she said softly. “Rascal’s the biggest eater, and the most affectionate. He’s kind of this lazy, gentle soul. Scamp’s much more aggressive, and louder.” Cassie turned back to Jess, whose frown now revealed deep grooves at the corners of his mouth. “It’s funny. I’ve never had a pet of my own--I was never allowed--and I didn’t know animals could have personalities.”

  Jess didn’t answer. He kept staring at her, searching her face until she grew uneasy and began to fidget. “What?” she asked, a defensive edge creeping into her tone. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

  When he spoke, his tone was dull, flat, and edged with ice. “You’re going to leave me, aren’t you?”

  CHAPTER NINE

  Of course she wouldn’t stay. He’d been a fool to think she would. One of these days, sooner or later, Cassie would pack up and go--just like Danielle. Anger mingled with the fear jolting through Jess’s body like an electric shock.

  “Will you tell me first,” he rasped, as his throat closed up, “or will I just come home from work one day and find you’ve cleared out?”

  Cassie stared at him, obviously hurt by his words, but she made no move to deny them. That alone was confirmation enough. Jess ground his fist into his thigh, cursing himself. Danielle was right. He was naive. He’d thought, after what they’d shared, that Cassie just might love him.

  “Well? Did I hit the nail on the head, Cassie?” He took a deep breath, fighting to hold back his fury and pain. “Are you already planning your escape?”

  “Jess--” She closed her eyes, her chest rising and falling like the wind-whipped trees outside. “I can’t make any promises right now,” she said, in a strangled voice. “There’s a good reason, I promise. I just can’t tell you what it is.”

  “Damn it, Cassie!” He stood abruptly as his temper finally spiraled out of control. “I’ve been patient as long as I’ve known you. I haven’t pushed. I’ve kept out of your business. But if you don’t trust me by now--after we’ve made love, for God’s sake--well, I just don’t know where to go from here.”

  She flushed and hung her head, obviously close to tears.

  “Help me out here,” Jess demanded. “Say something.”

  She was silent for an incredibly long moment. Then she raised her head. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “Do you want me to leave now?”

  His close-clipped nails bit into the palms of his hand. “Oh, hell. No. No, that’s not what I want.”

  He wanted her to stay. Forever. But he couldn’t say those words aloud. He jumped up and grabbed his coat. He needed to be alone. Alone, and far from Cassie.

  She watched him with a pleading expression. Her eyes begged him to understand. But understand what? How could he understand when she wouldn’t tell him anything? Fury and misery churned together in his gut.

  “Where are you going?’ she asked.

  “Out.” He shoved his arms into the sleeves of his rain slicker and flipped up the hood.

  “But it’s raining.”

  “No kidding.” His tone was biting, sarcastic. She winced as his words struck her like a blow, and he half wished he could unsay them. “I can’t stay here,” he added, with less anger, as he snatched up his walking stick. “I’ll be back.”

  Cassie bit her lower lip, an endearing gesture that almost quelled his rage. Almost, but not quite. “When?” she asked.

  “I don’t know.” He crossed the room in three strides and slammed out of the cabin.

  On the porch, Jess let out a shrill whistle. Harry bounded to his side. “Come on, boy,” Jess said. “Time to head for the hills.”

  Great sheets of rain pelted his face as he followed his own fence line up the mountain, Harry at his heels. The fence, topped with a double strand of barbed wire, kept out the hunters who roamed the mountain during deer season. Jess usually waited until mid-summer to make repairs. But as long as he was walking, he figured he might as well do something useful.

  Within minutes, Jess’s jeans were soaked through. At least his boots kept his feet dry. The boots were worn and scuffed in places, and the design worked into the leather beginning to unravel, but they were a gift from Uncle Gus and one of his most precious possessions. As he walked, he mostly used his stick to ward off blackberry vines and tree limbs. His ankle was a little sore still, but nothing serious.

  In fact, his heart hurt far worse than the healing rodeo injury. Anger still boiled through his veins, anger aimed more at himself than at Cassie. Hell, she’d never lied to him, as far as he knew. All along she’d refused to tell him her troubles. He should have known better than to fall for her. He had known better, and like an idiot yet he’d gone right along and done it anyway.

  He came to the creek, swollen with rain, and cross
ed the narrow plank bridge he’d built the year before. Harry planted his front feet on the other side, too nervous to follow. “It’s okay, boy,” Jess called. “You can do it.”

  The dog flicked his floppy ears and growled. “Harry, come on,” Jess urged, and waited until Harry padded gingerly across.

  “That’s a boy.” Jess fondled the dog’s silky muzzle. His fury was draining away now, lessening with each step he put between himself and the cabin. It wasn’t like him to get so riled up. Usually, Jess was slow to anger, and he rarely took that anger out on the people he cared about.

  But his explosion today had been building up for days, he realized. It was just one more indication of how much Cassie meant to him. She’d gotten under his skin like no one else.

  He pushed aside an evergreen branch and found himself back at the fence line. A section of barbed wire hung free, broken by a fallen tree limb. Glad of the distraction, Jess set aside his cane and tackled the task of untangling the wire from the branch. He even welcomed the pain as one of the barbs bit into his palm. It took his mind off the agonizing uncertainty twisting his insides.

  Why wouldn’t Cassie confide in him? Maybe she was ashamed. But she wasn’t capable of doing anything truly shameful. Jess was sure of that. He knew Cassie, knew her with his heart, his soul, his body--knew her better than he knew himself. Why couldn’t she trust him, when he loved her so much?

  But he’d never told her so.

  He let go of the tree branch. It whipped back and caught him a stinging blow across the face, but he felt no pain.

  He’d never told her.

  Cassie didn’t know he loved her.

  “Damn it, Jess,” he said aloud. The wind tore the words from his mouth. Harry wagged his tail and whined, apparently thinking he’d done something to anger his master.

  Jess pushed back the hood coat and let the rain plaster his hair to his head. He turned his face to the sky, catching the cold, pure water in his mouth. He’d never been much of a talker. He preferred to express his emotions through action, not words. Last night and this morning, he’d poured all of his feelings into making love to Cassie.

  But Cassie didn’t know--couldn’t know--that their passion for each other was something out of the ordinary. She’d never been with a man before. What if she didn’t understand what she meant to him? What if she didn’t even realize he wanted to share the rest of his life with her?

  “Oh, hell,” he moaned. “I am an idiot.”

  If he wanted Cassie to stay, he had to convince her to trust him. He needed to show her that he loved her no matter what. And there was only one way to do it.

  Marry her.

  “Jess, you’re bleeding!” Cassie exclaimed. He’d just come back from his walk, soaked to the bone and with deep scratches in his cheek. Blood trickled over his jaw and down his neck. His hand was bleeding, too.

  Strangely enough, his grin spread from ear to ear.

  Outside, the rain had stopped, and the wind had died down. Apparently, the storm had taken Jess’s earlier anger with it. Cassie rushed forward and took his raincoat, relieved but puzzled.

  “Let me get a towel and some ointment, then I’ll--” Jess leaned forward and kissed her on the mouth, cutting her off. He smelled sharp and spicy, like pine sap. Cassie frowned. “What was that for?”

  He took her face in his hands and stared into her eyes. Even with rain and blood mingling on his cheek, his chiseled jaw and full, sensual lips made her heart stand still. She wanted to memorize that dear face, from the sun-darkened brow to the heartbreaking brown eyes to the slightly crooked nose that lent character to his otherwise classic features.

  “That,” Jess said solemnly, “was because I love you.”

  Confusion and pleasure weakened her knees. “Jess, I--”

  He laid one work-roughened finger over her lips, a touch which created havoc in her body. “Hush. Don’t say anything. Just think about it for a while.”

  “Does this mean you’re not mad at me?”

  “That’s right, I’m not.”

  “And you won’t push me to--to tell you what I don’t want to tell you?”

  “Right again.” He crushed her to his chest for a moment, and she let herself relax in his arms. She didn’t know what had caused this about-face, but she wasn’t stupid enough to argue. “Um, Jess. . . .”

  “What?”

  “You’re bleeding on my shirt.”

  “Oh. Oh, sorry.” He let her go and took a step backwards. “Let me get cleaned up, and then we’re going out.”

  Cassie followed him to the bathroom, where she wet a clean towel with disinfectant. “Out where?”

  “You’ll see.” He winced as she dabbed at the blood oozing down his cheek. “Careful with that, now.”

  She laughed. “Don’t be such a baby. The scratches aren’t deep.” In fact, they’d already stopped bleeding. “You won’t even need a Band-Aid.”

  “The cut on my hand’s worse,” he said, sounding for all the world like a little boy in need of comfort.

  Cassie managed to keep from grinning. “Let me see.”

  He gave her his hand. The puncture was tiny, but she adopted a mock seriousness as she swabbed off the blood. “Hmm, yes. This is pretty grim.”

  “It is?”

  “Yes, I’m afraid so. I think we’ll need to amputate the arm.”

  Jess yanked his hand from her grasp and gave her a playful swat on the rear. “Oh, very funny.”

  “Hilarious, if you ask me.” She giggled. “Think you can handle it from here?”

  “Go get changed into something pretty,” he growled, but his eyes danced with amusement. “We leave in ten minutes.”

  In the loft, Cassie surveyed her limited wardrobe. Something pretty, he’d said. She hadn’t yet worn a long skirt made of forest-green velvet. She paired that with a lace-collared white blouse, pinned her hair up into a sleek chignon, and applied a fresh coat of tinted lip gloss.

  “You look fantastic,” Jess declared. He’d emerged from the bathroom with his wet hair slicked back, wearing a clean pair of black jeans that hugged his slim hips, stretched taut over masculine thighs, and lovingly molded themselves to Jess’s firm buttocks.

  Tempting. Very tempting. How would Jess respond if she suggested they stay in tonight? She could always undress him again. . . .

  But he seemed set on whisking her off to some mystery destination, and she didn’t want to jeopardize his buoyant mood. She pushed her erotic fantasies to the back of her mind and followed Jess out the door.

  “Where are we going?” she asked, as they climbed into his Chevy. For the first time since his rodeo accident, he took the driver’s seat. “You still haven’t said.”

  He gunned the engine, then let the pickup roll down the gravel driveway. “I think it’s time we went out on a real date. How about a romantic dinner, and then a trip to the lake?”

  “The lake?”

  “Sure.” He grinned. “That’s where all the high school boys park with their girlfriends. Who knows?” He reached over, squeezed her thigh, and a mock leer her way. “Maybe I’ll get lucky.”

  Cassie playfully batted his hand away. “Depends on the dinner,” she teased. “Are we talking about candlelight and good wine? Linen napkins? Filet mignon?”

  “Um. Well. How ‘bout Lorna’s special corned beef, and more of that chocolate cheesecake? The diner’s just about the only place to eat around here.”

  “Dinner at Lorna’s Diner and parking at the lake?” She struggled to swallow her laughter. “That’s what passes for a romantic date in this town?”

  Jess watched her from the corner of his eye, a sober expression dampening his good humor. “If you’d rather head for Redding. . . .”

  “No,” Cassie said quickly, sensing she’d bruised his feelings. “I was only joking. I’d like to stay in Bitter Creek.” She took his hand and wove her fingers through his. “As long as I’m with you, anywhere’s romantic.”

  His hand tightened around
hers. He didn’t answer, but his relief was palpable. Cassie got the feeling that, if she’d rejected his hometown, she would also be rejecting Jess. His love for Bitter Creek touched her heart. What would it be like, to call this place home? To belong, really and truly, to the mountain and the town below?

  She was still thoughtful an hour and a half later, after she and Jess finished dinner and decided on a stroll down Main Street. Jess held her hand, a possessive gesture that made her feel warm, safe, and protected. He pointed out some of the attractions: a historic Victorian home; the local library, boasting brand-new Internet computers and two storytimes a week; a “new” crafts shop opened just six years before; and a picturesque building with a “Space for Rent” sign in the otherwise-empty plate glass window.

  “You know, this is a great location,” Jess said, as he peered through the window into the dark office, with its shadowy abandoned furniture. “We’re missing a few businesses in this town. I can think of one in particular I’d like to see move in here.”

  Cassie cocked her head to look up at him. “Oh? Like what?”

  “Like a photo studio.” He paused, obviously watching her reaction, but she kept her expression neutral. “Sure,” he added. “People like getting regular family photos, pictures of their kids, that kind of thing, but it’s a long drive to the nearest photo place.”

  Cassie studied the building, admiring the tall facade and dark-blue trim. For an instant, standing there with Jess, she could almost see the portraits standing on easels in the window, and the sign over the door.

  Cassandra Carlisle, Photographer.

  That’s what it would say, in dark blue paint. Simple. To the point.

  Permanent.

  She bit her lip so hard it hurt. She couldn’t get carried away like that. She just couldn’t. Dreams died hard, especially dreams this sweet.

  “Well? How does that sound?” Jess asked.

  Heartbreakingly wonderful. Absolutely perfect. Utterly impossible.

  “I don’t know,” she said, stalling.