Cowboy Summer

by Joanne Kennedy

  And then their star had burned out. She’d headed for the city while he’d stayed, trying to make something of Walker Ranch. He wished things could have been different, but she’d had to follow her bliss, and he’d had to stay. Or so he’d thought.

  Resting his cheek on her hair, he inhaled her intoxicating country-girl scent—the tang of sweat, a hint of cut grass, and the lingering warmth of the summer sun. It drew him out of the past and into the present—right where he wanted to be.

  He kissed her forehead, her eyelids, the bridge of her nose, then moved to her lips and down, sipping and savoring, planting a dozen more kisses along her jawline and down her neck. Dipping his tongue into the warm, throbbing hollow of her throat, he smiled into her skin when she mewed in response.

  Her tank top was nothing but a scrap of cloth with strings for straps; a flick of his finger bared one shoulder, then the other. He kissed the soft spot below the bone, then worked his way down her arms, silky and smooth below, the tops bronzed to gold. Love had been a banked fire, burning steady inside him all these years. Now the flames were rising, high and wild, need heating the embers to a white-hot glow.

  Kissing the tops of her breasts, he slipped the straps down her arms, then glanced up to check her eyes, her smile. Did she want this? Heavy-lidded, long-lashed, her eyes said yes.

  Yes to everything.

  Pulling the soft, stretchy fabric away, he cupped his hands around her breasts, savoring the sweet soft heft of them, the subtle slope of her cleavage, and the pink summits that peaked beneath his tongue. Her hair tumbled over her face and shielded her eyes, but her lips, wet and slick, lured him back for a kiss.

  In the kiss, he felt her tension dissolve, softening her limbs as she gave in to desire and tore open the snaps of his shirt. Sweeping her hands over his chest in slow figure eights, she brushed his nipples on every pass, making him shiver before she stroked low toward his hips and the danger zone.

  Biting the tip of her tongue between her teeth, she ran one finger slowly across the top edge of his belt.

  “Cade, now.” Her voice was a breathy whisper as she shimmied out of her jeans. “Now.”

  Rolling over, he pulled off his own. Her striptease had been so sweet; his was a clumsy wrestling match with fumbling hands.

  When he turned, she lay naked in the straw, watching him with a come-hither smile.

  Smiling back, he said a silent prayer thanking God for sending her back home. For a long time, he’d been sure he’d ruined his life by letting Amber Lynn hijack his desperate heart, sure as if he’d shot himself and died. But now he’d come alive, along with all the hopes and dreams he’d kissed goodbye.

  He played Jess like a cello, stroking the dips that bracketed her belly, the insides of her thighs, the soft skin behind her knees. And she touched him in return, proving she knew his body as well as he knew hers. As she worked her way from his temples to his neck and trailed her fingers down to his chest, then his hips, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to think of those goals and due dates so he wouldn’t explode. A stallion reared in the round pen of his mind, and a white mare raced through a grassy field. But pretty things always brought him back to her.

  He rolled her under him, rose above her, and looked a question into her eyes while he fished in his pocket for the foil packet he’d stowed away in a fit of hopefulness. She nodded and he fumbled around, so rushed he barely got the thing on, before surrendering to the long, slow glide inside. The grace of their giving and taking erased all his doubt and pain and regret, all his anger and self-recrimination. The past was gone, burned to ashes, blown away.

  Her cries bounced off the rafters and rattled the windows. But it wasn’t just her; he shouted, too, as the world spun off course and swept them into a windstorm, hot and wild. They clung together, riding the high until the strength of their emotions wore them out and tossed them, like ragdolls, spent and blinded on a straw-strewn shore.

  He memorized the moment, holding it in his mind like a globe of fragile glass, a treasure lost and miraculously found, and prayed she felt the unbreakable rightness of it.

  The two of them could grow old, together or apart. She could leave a thousand times, return, and leave again. But nothing could come between them—not for long. Love would always be like this for them, perfect and solely, miraculously theirs.

  * * *

  Jess felt as heavy as a stone tossed in a stream. She’d flown high, splashed, and settled, rocking into a perfectly formed and fitted spot. Warm water stroked and soothed—Cade’s love, calming her body and clearing her mind.

  Never leave him. Never leave this place…

  The words seeped into her soul, along with the sounds of doves cooing in the rafters, a faint breeze swishing through the eaves, and the celebratory songs of tree frogs by the creek. Sweet scents floated on the damp night air—clean straw, old wood, sunbaked shingles cooling in the night.

  She heard Cade breathing beside her, first hard and fast, then slower. She knew he was looking at her, but she kept her eyes closed so she wouldn’t have to talk or even smile. The moment felt so perfect, and perfection was fragile.

  She’d broken that perfection when she’d left, but she’d had to see what the world had to offer before she could appreciate what she had. She didn’t regret her few flings with other men. There’d been a lawyer who’d taken her to the best restaurants in town but was a bust in bed. Then, an older man from Boston she’d met at the hotel had known a dozen sleek sexual tricks but seemed to practice them all by rote. Last came a hot Italian chef who barely spoke English but loved her with a tenderness that had surprised her. He’d been the best, but they’d had nothing in common, not even a language.

  Rich, experienced, passionate—but none came close to eclipsing Cade. Steady as he was, solid and hardworking, he was still the hottest lover she’d ever had.

  Probably because he loved her.

  How could you not know how much that mattered?

  She wanted to slap her forehead at her foolishness, but she was too comfortable to bother.

  Blinking, she stretched and smiled, wondering if he’d flown in the same sky, had the same love-inspired epiphany. He’d propped himself up on one elbow to watch her, but now he threw himself back in the straw as if shot.

  “Jesus, Jess, give a man a break. I’m lost already, but when you do that…”

  “Do what?”

  “I don’t know. That thing you just did.”

  “I stretched.” She did it again.

  “Like that. I swear, all you ever have to do is look that satisfied, that sleepy, and I’m yours.” He took her hand, and his smile turned serious. “I am anyway.”

  A little voice in the back of her mind spoke.

  And you’re his.

  No, she wasn’t. She couldn’t be. There was a reason, she was sure of that, but she couldn’t remember what it was, because the reason for everything was lying beside her with love in his eyes and no clothes on.

  How was a girl supposed to make sensible decisions when the man looked that good naked? How was she supposed to do anything but kiss him and see if he could still do it twice in one summer evening?

  “I’ll see you Saturday, right? If not before.”

  “Saturday?” she asked.

  “Our deal. First thing. I’m helping you, you’re helping me. Remember?”

  She gave him a sly wink. “I thought that’s what we just did.”

  He grinned. “I’m hoping I don’t have to wait until Saturday for that.” To her intense regret, he reached for his clothes and began dressing. Once he’d floundered into his shirt and tugged on his jeans, he rose and offered a hand. “You know, Jess, we could help each other more than you realize. This place—if you stayed, I’d help you any way I could.”

  “But your business, my job…”

  He pulled her to his feet. “Like I sai
d, we could help each other. With you here and me helping out, Heck could stay.”

  “But I can’t stay.”

  She turned and pretended to look out the window so he wouldn’t see she was lying. Right now, her heart had hijacked her brain, and she damn sure wanted to stay.

  And why not? It wouldn’t be the future she’d envisioned for herself. She might never get to Hawaii, never live on a beach. But she’d be with Cade, and wouldn’t that be better?

  Maybe. Her brain flashed a caution light, telling her this happiness couldn’t last. You couldn’t depend on love, no matter how much someone cared. Look at her mother—surely, the one person in the world she should have been able to trust. But when something better had come along, Dot had left without a backward glance.

  Then there was Molly. She’d vowed to love Jess’s father forever, for better and for worse, and now she was flirting on the phone with some stranger. Even Cade had shifted his affection to Amber Lynn Lyle once Jess was out of sight. She needed to build a life that was bulletproof and all her own.

  But Cade…

  “Give that brain of yours a rest, would you? I can see all the doubts chasing through your mind. Just trust me.” He paused, holding her at arms’ length and looking into her eyes. “You do trust me, don’t you? It felt like you did.”

  She looked away, swallowing hard. Unfazed, he pulled her close and kissed her, a brief, sweet benediction, then pressed his forehead against hers to look into her eyes.

  “Everything’s going to be all right, okay?” he said. “Whatever you decide to do, I’m on your side. So quit worrying.”

  She nodded, but she lowered her lashes so he couldn’t read her eyes.

  Chapter 20

  Molly sat by Heck’s hospital bed, listening to his slow, steady breathing. It was late, and the room was dark but for a shaft of light that angled through the half-open door.

  Her husband. Sometimes it still struck her as a miracle she’d found someone who loved her with such complete acceptance. Someone who didn’t care about where she’d grown up or how many men she’d known or that she couldn’t bear him babies.

  She loved him so much, it hurt.

  She wanted to tell him, but she remembered the doctor’s warnings. Heck needed his sleep, and that was fine. She’d taken some time to talk to Jess. The girl had seemed happier today than she’d ever seen her, though she was still painfully wary of Molly herself.

  “Aw, Heck, I try,” she said softly. “I love her to pieces whether she loves me back or not. But I don’t know why she can’t at least like me, just a little bit. It would be nice if she’d talk to me in words of more than one syllable.”

  She sighed. “If only she knew I didn’t really want to sell the ranch. It was always just a way to bring her home. You know that. But now…” She glanced out the hospital window at the black macadam parking lot, tacky small-town high-rises, and cracked concrete sidewalks. “Now, I don’t know what we’ll do. With your heart… I just don’t see how we can stay unless Jess does. And Cade. You need somebody, honey. I know you hate that, but you do.”

  An impossible wave of tenderness rushed over her. “It’s going to be okay, hon. You know Cade can do anything he sets his mind to. They just need time, and it’s up to us to make sure they get it.”

  She scanned his face, so very tired, like a weary child.

  “It’s up to me,” she whispered.

  She sat there, holding his hand, listening to the hush of the hospital and thinking about the way Jess and Cade had looked when they’d come in from the barn. It was obvious what had happened and even more obvious they’d enjoyed it.

  What would it be like to make love in a barn? It wasn’t the cleanest place in the world, but maybe sometime she could bring a nice clean blanket from the house and a picnic basket with dessert and some wine.

  Coconut pie, maybe. That was Heck’s favorite, because of how they’d met.

  She imagined lying in the cool darkness, moonlight slanting through the windows, stars glittering in the spaces where shingles had been blown off by the wind. Heck would finish his pie, and then he’d give her that look, the one that warmed her to her toes, and they’d…

  “Dammit, woman, you oughta be home in bed!”

  She smiled into the darkness. “No. I need to be with you.” She sighed. “I was thinking we should make love in the barn.”

  “The barn?” His sleepy voice sounded a little more alert. “Like where in the barn?”

  “Maybe the hayloft.” She fumbled to find his hand in the sheets he’d twisted in his sleep. “It’s working, Heck. Our plan. You wait. There’ll be wedding bells, and Cade and Jess will take over the ranch, and you won’t have to worry anymore.”

  “Well, good,” he said. “But I wasn’t worried anyway.”

  “You weren’t?”

  “Nope.” He squeezed her hand. “Even if we have to move, I’ll still have you.”

  “That’s sweet.” Sweet, but hard to believe. Heck loved his land and his horses and being a cowboy. She wasn’t sure where in his pantheon of great loves she belonged, but she’d always assumed she took second place to his work. It was who he was.

  “It would be better if Jess and Cade had each other, too,” she said. “I know family’s important to you.”

  “You’re right.” He pulled her hand closer, placing it right where he wanted it. “But why are we talking about Jess and Cade?”

  She giggled. “Because it’s important. It’s a good reason to celebrate.”

  “Okay, but I don’t really need a reason.” He moved her hand back to the mattress with a sigh. “When we get home, we’re going to celebrate every night.”

  In answer, she bent and kissed him, gently but deeply. She was thrilled when he responded with more enthusiasm than he’d shown since his first heart attack.

  “We can do it wherever you want,” he said. “In the barn, in the pasture. Good gravy, we could do it on the tractor if you want.” He lifted her hand to his mouth and kissed it. “But you need to know, our life’s about you and me. Not Jess and Cade, not the ranch, not the cattle. You’re all I need. I mean it.”

  “Oh, Heck.” She smiled. The nickname made it sound like she was swearing, when really, she was doing the opposite.

  Because to her, his name was a blessing—one evoked with love, reverence, and a happy heart.

  * * *

  Jess called her office every day, first thing. It seemed wise to start the day with a reminder of her real life—the one where she was good at her job. The one where she made a living. The one she needed to get back to, just as soon as she could.

  And it seemed wise to remind her boss that she cared. And sometimes, she thought it was a good idea to remind Treena—and herself—that she’d return to Birchwood Suites.

  There were times when she wanted to stay at the Diamond Jack so badly it hurt, but she knew that wasn’t practical long-term. She needed to get her father healthy and find him a good life that wouldn’t strain his heart or break it. She needed to see him safe and well so she wouldn’t have to worry. Putting even a small part of the ocean between them seemed crazy right now, but things would get better. Or so she hoped.

  She was just about to dial her boss when she heard her stepmother clattering around in the kitchen and remembered today was Friday, the day of Molly’s assignation.

  Quietly, Jess eased herself down the stairs and watched her stepmother from the landing. The woman was waltzing around like a happy lunatic, singing Patsy Cline’s “Crazy” in a thin but enthusiastic soprano. She wasn’t wearing the jeans she’d adopted since her marriage to Heck. Instead, she was dressed to impress—by Molly standards, at least—in a white shirt with roses embroidered on the collar, a navy skirt, and a pink vest decorated with appliqued flowers. She looked like one of those flags people put in their gardens to announce various seasons. This w
ould be spring. Was Molly celebrating a new beginning?

  Jess went back to her room and waited until she heard the Camry crunching down the gravel drive. Her stepmother was on her way to the meeting she’d set up on that phone call, and Jess was determined to follow. She’d call the office later.

  Pausing by a rack of keys by the back door, she chose the one for her dad’s truck. Molly would know Jess’s little red car, but there were lots of red Ford pickups in town.

  She was flying out the door, intent on her secret mission, when the phone rang. She was tempted to let it go, but a quick glance told her it was the hospital calling.

  “Is this Molly?” said a stern female voice.

  “No, this is Jess. Are you calling about my father? Is something wrong?”

  “He’s asking for her, that’s all. I assume Molly’s his wife?”

  “Yes.” Jess wondered how long that would be true. If Molly was off to see some lover in a no-tell motel, she wouldn’t be Heck’s wife for long.

  “She needs to be here. He’s in a temper, and his blood pressure’s sky-high.”

  “I’ll find her,” Jess said. “I’ll get her there.”

  Slamming the receiver down, she raced out the door. She had a twofold mission now: first, find Molly and reveal her cheating ways; second, drag her back to the hospital to save the husband she was cheating on.

  When Jess reached the main road, the Camry was already out of sight. Making a quick guess, she turned toward town. A mile farther on, she caught sight of her stepmother up ahead and began tailing her in earnest, dodging around like a private eye on TV. She felt silly, but then she remembered Molly’s voice on the phone in the restroom—nervous and giggly as a teenager with a crush.

  As they neared the town of Wynott, the sagebrush flats gave way to neat front yards. Jess was sure her stepmother was heading for one of the cheap hotels that catered to oil rig workers, but the Camry sailed past them and took the highway ramp. Jess followed, allowing a couple of semis to get ahead of her, then accelerated when she saw the Camry take the Grigsby exit.