And it was that—the raw, naked sound of him on the verge of losing control—that snapped her back to reality.
She pulled back, panting, and stared up at his face.
His jaw was slack and his eyes heavy-lidded as if he were dreaming. After several confused blinks, his dark eyes opened fully and he stared down at her.
A tornado of emotions whirled inside her chest whenever she looked at him. Naked desire spun around into anger at him for…well…being so damn desirable. She ran her hands down her front, deliberately straightening the T-shirt he’d yanked askew.
“We shouldn’t have done that,” she breathed.
His eyes darkened. “Why?”
For a second she had no answer. She wanted him more than she’d ever wanted anything in her life, so why shouldn’t she let him kiss her like his life depended on it?
“I don’t know,” she moaned. Frustration swelled in her chest. One kiss could have been just a mistake. But this was going too far. She needed him more than she ever wanted to need anyone, and that was dangerous for a girl like her. She knew better.
Closeness always led to heartbreak.
Cole’s dark eyes darted over her face, and for a second she wondered if he could see her thoughts, if they were projected on her forehead for him to read as easily as his son read his books.
Maybe they were, because Cole heaved a resigned sigh. “Okay, Sammie-girl,” he whispered, barely audible. “That’s fine.” His voice was so low she more felt it than heard it. “But when you do know, come find me.”
Eleven
Six hundred and sixty-seven dollars.
That was what it cost for one month at Little Lambs Day care.
As Cole scratched his pen over his checkbook—number 103 in the book newly minted from First Regional Bank—he wondered if Cheryl had chosen that number on purpose, tacking on one extra dollar onto the price to avoid evil connotations.
The effect it had on his bank account sure was evil. He stared at the number and blinked a few times, as if clearing his vision would make it resolve into something less…perilous.
But it stayed the same. Nineteen dollars and twenty-three cents. That’s all he had left until his next paycheck.
Eight days from now.
Cole leaned back in his chair and absently massaged the tight muscles at the base of his neck. He might be able to make it work. He lived here at Bitter Ridge for free, and his truck was long since paid off. He could live on rice and beans for eight days, but Devon needed lunches and his Goldfish addiction had gotten even more expensive once he started flat out rejecting the generic brand that was fifty cents cheaper a bag.
Cole tapped his pen against the table. All of that was day-to-day stuff with Devon he had to figure out as he went. The problem that had him nearly weeping in frustration wasn’t his present situation.
It was the future.
Devon was smart. That wasn’t just his fatherly pride saying that. And smart boys deserved a chance to go to college.
And good daddies? They saved to give them that chance.
But how could Cole even think about saving for college in the future when he had only nineteen dollars in his bank account now?
“Fuuuuck.” It came out in a long, slow hiss, like air leaking from a slowly deflating balloon.
“Everything okay?” Sammie was hovering in the doorway. She was dressed in her pajamas, and her hair was pulled back in a long braid that swept over her left shoulder.
She looked like a cowboy’s dream. But Cole was too caught up in his nightmare. He pushed back from the table, scraping the chair across the floor to face her as she made her way to the cupboard for her nightly cup of chamomile tea.
“You teach college,” he began.
“Not currently,” she corrected, a rueful smile tugging at the corner of her mouth.
“Yeah, well.” He laced his fingers behind his head and stared out the dark window. “You know anything about kids getting scholarships?”
He turned back to her, half expecting to see her rolling her eyes.
But to his surprise, she looked lost in thought. She stirred honey into her tea and took a contemplative sip before replying. “I was going to say that I don’t know much about the admissions side of things,” she began, walking over to the table and sitting down across from him. He liked how she just plopped herself down without wondering if she was disturbing him. He liked how easy it was getting to be in each other's space. Fuck boundaries, he repeated in his head.
“But you decided to say something else?” he prompted with a teasing smile.
She grinned back at him. “I did indeed,” she said with a lofty toss of her head that made him laugh. But her face grew serious. “Devon’s young and there are a lot of years between now and when you need to be worrying about these things, but there are always scholarships he can apply to. And there are things like financial aid and work-study programs to offset the cost as well. And you know he can always do ROTC.” She studied his face.
“I think.” He sucked in a deep breath. “I think if he wants to do that, he sure can, but I don’t want it to be his only option.”
She nodded. “You can start putting away for it now, Cole. A little bit of money in a high-yield account would mean a lot of money years from now.”
“What kind of high-yield account?”
She stood up with another lofty grin. “I'm an economist, Cole. Not a financial planner.”
“But you know about money stuff, right?”
She laughed again. “I know I should probably be saving more of it but—” She spread her hands to indicate the ranch. “Maybe we both need a beginner's guide to investing.”
“Where would we get one of those?” He wanted to make her laugh again. “Are you going to disappear into your room again and come out with another stack of papers that fixes all my problems?” He stood up and moved closer to her, loving the way the scent of her lotion clung to her dewy skin. “Can I come in there with you? Maybe pick up where we left off last night?”
She did laugh again, which only had him wanting her more. Until she stuck out her tongue. “Down boy. I’m not taking you into my bed. I’m taking you to the library.”
* * *
It smelled the same. Cole wasn’t sure how he knew that—after all, he’d rarely been allowed to venture into the library growing up. His parents figured him having “down time” to read meant he had time to sweep the shop floor or take on a paper route.
But the few times he had come in to the Mildred Jensen Memorial Library—named for Sammie’s great-grandmother, one of the town founders—had made such an impression on him that they remained imprinted in his brain. The smell of the paper and the burned coffee that sat on hot plates in the community room. The weighty hush of the patrons and the dust motes dancing in the light that angled in from the high windows and left squares of light at regular intervals along the carpet. The carpet was tan now, not the light blue of his memories, but the circulation desk was still a gleaming wooden horseshoe, and the woman who stood behind it?
She hadn’t changed either.
“Mrs. Lazlo?” His hand went to his hat, until he remembered he wasn’t wearing one. He turned to Sammie. “Is that…?”
“Samantha Jensen and Cole Baker!” Mrs. Lazlo called from behind the desk. “What are you two doing back in town?” Her sharp eyes went right to Devon, who was squirming to get down from Cole’s arms and attack the children’s books. The lingering question hung in the air—Is he yours? Are you and Sammie together again? Are you three a family?—but Mrs. Lazlo glossed right over any awkwardness by bustling out from behind the desk and crushing Sammie in a giant hug. “You’re so grown up!” she cooed, then pushed her back to regard her critically. “You’re looking thin. They not feeding you in New York City?”
“It’s all that walking,” Sammie laughed, allowing herself to be inspected.
“Down!” Devon bellowed.
Cole sighed. “Are you going to be good?
”
“Good.” Devon nodded. “Books.”
“Okay, bud, go get your books.” As Devon tore off in the direction of the picture books, he added. “One at a time, please! No messes!”
When he turned back, Mrs. Lazlo’s sharp eyes had moved on from inspecting Sammie and landed on him. “That little guy is a reader, just like his daddy,” she remarked.
“I’m not much of a reader,” Cole corrected, coughing into his hand to clear the sudden catch in his voice. “I only came by when I had a school paper to write.”
“And when you did, you’d get yourself a stack of books and put them right there,” Mrs. Lazlo said, pointing to the scuffed rectangular table that was now turned lengthwise to make room for the bank of computers that hadn’t been there before. “And you’d read through them so fast. Like a starving man sitting down at a buffet.”
Sammie looked at Cole with an encouraging grin, but Cole had to look down, uncertain about what to say in return. That Mrs. Lazlo remembered him was one thing. That she remembered him as something other than the town screwup was something else entirely.
“We’re looking for books on personal finance and investing,” Sammie asked. “I don’t know where they are in the Dewey Decimal system. Academic libraries use Library of Congress.”
Mrs. Lazlo laughed. “I always knew you’d be an academic, Samantha. I’m so pleased.” She directed them to the right section and offered to keep an eye on Devon while they were looking. “He’s no trouble at all. Look, he stacks them just like you did, Cole.”
Cole’s mind was whirling, so he was happy to let Sammie take over. She exclaimed over the titles, quickly choosing three slim volumes with names like Fool-Proof Investing and Your Money, Your Life, then went to check them out.
“Do you want to bring your license over, Cole?” she called across the library as he collected Devon and his stack of books. “I can put these in your name if you’d prefer.”
An oily laugh bubbled up from the entrance. Cole clenched his teeth, instantly on edge.
Peter Jensen sauntered into the library with a pleased look on his face. “Hey there, cuz!” he sang out, greeting Sammie before turning to Cole. “Personal finance basics, Cole? What? Are you having trouble managing the two nickels you have to your name?”
“Peter!” Sammie admonished at the same time Cole grunted, “Go away, Sleazy Pete.”
Peter ignored Sammie, and kept his beady eyes fixed on Cole. “You can’t tell me to go. This is public property, and you don’t own it. But once I own Bitter Ridge Ranch, I’ll be happy to tell you to go. And never come back.” He tapped his fingernail against his teeth, making a clicking noise that sent a shiver of rage down Cole’s spine. “In fact, I think I’ll see to it you’re barred from entering my store once it’s open. Arrested on sight if you even so much as slow down that crappy old truck in front of it.”
Cole covered the distance between them in three long strides, shifting Devon around and behind him as he did to get his son out of harm’s way before he broke this asshole’s nose.
But then he felt, rather than saw, Sammie move to his side and take Devon’s hand. As soon as she was close to him, the rage inside him drained away. He lifted his chin as he suddenly saw what Peter must be seeing—the three of them holding hands in a united front. A team of three against one.
“We’re almost done with the repairs,” Sammie said, that same ringing dignity in her voice as when she’d spoken in court. Never mind that she was lying through her teeth; Cole had to admire how she faced down her cousin with an imperious sneer. A wash of desire flooded through him. Seeing brainy Sammie Jensen destroy a man with the power of her words was the biggest turn-on of his life.
All at once, he couldn’t get them home fast enough. “Come on,” he announced, lifting Devon again. “I don’t have time for these distractions.” He waved in Peter’s direction without giving him the benefit of eye contact. “We’ve got a successful ranch to run.”
Sammie looked at him. Her eyes gleamed, and she nodded. She grabbed the books and then reached for his hand, twining her fingers in his.
It hit him again. That same desire he’d felt every moment of every day since he’d run into her in the bank. He’d been holding back. Being careful for the first time in his life.
He was done being careful.
“Can you believe him?” Sammie cried breathlessly as she slid into the passenger seat of his truck. “I didn’t know it was possible to hate one person this much. If he thinks he can get away with pushing people in this town around one second longer, he’s got another think coming. I’m going to spank his sorry ass, and I’m going to make him eat every single bad thing he ever said to anyone, starting with you. How dare he say that to you? You’re so much better than he is. Hell, you’re better than pretty much anyone I ever met…” She trailed off as she looked at Cole, who’d just finished strapping Devon into his seat. “What?” she asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
Cole jumped into the driver's seat and pulled her to him.
Every kiss had led up to this one, with Cole’s fingers in her hair and his tongue sweeping her mouth as he crushed her against his chest. “You’re amazing,” he grunted when he pulled back for air and traced his thumb over her lip. “I could just eat you up. In fact, I think I will.”
“Right here?” she squeaked.
“No.” He twisted the key savagely and floored it out of the library parking lot without bothering to buckle up. “We're past making out in this truck, don't you think?”
Sammie's eyes went wide. Two spots of wild color flamed on her cheeks. For a moment he wondered if she was about to start yelling at him.
Then her fingers danced across the console and settled on his thigh.
Cole grunted and nudged the accelerator. Devon yelled in glee from the back seat. “Whee!”
“Whee,” echoed Sammie, and she shot Cole a look. “You might want to buckle up. You're going pretty fast.”
He clicked his buckle into place. “This is the only time I'm ever going to go this fast with you,” he warned.
“You do like to take your time.” Her fingers trailed higher on his leg.
Cole grunted, then let out a long breath. “Bedtime, Devon!” he called as he cut the wheel hard into the driveway, sending up a shower of dust and gravel behind them.
It was a blur of binkies and kisses and diapers and more kisses before Cole finally shut the door on Devon's shouted protests of, “I not tired!” He whirled around to face Sammie. “Now. Where were we?”
She bit her lip, and suddenly the teasing seductress who'd tormented him the whole way home was replaced with someone else. Someone who peered shyly up at him from under dark lashes and twisted her hands together.
The fire in Cole's belly didn't so much cool as spread. Because this...this was his Sammie, the girl he'd loved for close to forever. “Hey,” he whispered, drawing his finger along her jaw to tip her chin upward. “You okay there? Did I scare you?”
Some of the warmth came back into her eyes. “I don't think I could ever be scared of you.”
“Good.” He brushed his lips across hers. “You know everything there is to know about me, Sammie. So you gotta know how I feel about you.” He kissed her again. “How I've always felt.”
“I know.”
He pulled back. “You do?”
She nodded and looked away from him. “I don't know what to do with it.” Her words bubbled out in a hysterical little laugh. “I keep forgetting that I'm leaving, Cole. It's like…” She pressed her hand to her forehead. “I can't make that thought stay in my head. It slides out and I start thinking about a future here with...” She trailed off and looked at him, stricken.
The pride that swelled in his chest was at war with the pain that squeezed his heart when he saw her stricken face. He wanted her. He wanted her to stay. But he wanted her to be as happy about being with him as being with her made him.
He kissed her softly. “Keep thin
king, darlin'. That's what your big brain does best.”
As he stepped around her, she turned with him, mirroring his motion. “What will you do?”
He pressed his lips together. “I'm going to keep doing whatever it is I'm doing that makes you forget about leaving.” With a grin, he lifted his shirt over his head and stretched. “How about that? How'm I doing?”
She laughed and shook her head. “You're a nut.”
“Only ’cause you drive me crazy,” he promised her, then stepped around and shut the door to his bedroom before he lost the tiny sliver of control that kept him from pulling her in there with him.
Twelve
Ever since he'd come home from the desert, Cole had used a nightlight.
It wasn't something he liked to share. Being a grown-ass man—and a soldier and a cowboy on top of all that—meant he should be well past being scared of the dark.
But with the dark came dreams, and dreams were his enemy. Since coming home, he'd tried to avoid them through a mix of over-the-counter drugs and artificial light. The rampant insomnia, he'd often joked to the counselor the VA had set him up with when he first got back, was just a bonus. “Can't have nightmares if I'm not sleeping!”
So it was pretty surprising to jerk awake and realize he'd fallen into the deepest, most restful sleep he'd had in years. But his confusion settled into a panicky dread when he realized his eyes were open, and he still couldn't see anything. He'd been so tired that he'd fallen asleep before turning his night light on.
He sat up and tried to get his bearings, and then he heard it again.
The noise that had woken him in the first place.
A creak, a thump...footsteps.
Someone is trying to break in.
Devon.
The Rancher’s Second Chance Page 9
