Barefoot Blue Jean Night Page 9

  She touched her tongue to his and Cole moved his hand from her chin to her throat. Her nipples tightened. He trailed a finger to the scoop of her neckline, and she completely forgot how to breathe. Placing his other hand on her waist, he deepened the kiss. She pushed off the wall and slid her arms around his neck. The move was purely reflexive, and too late she wondered where his fingers would have ended up.

  His mouth slanted over hers, and she could feel the slight sting of stubble grazing her cheek. She didn’t care. Not even a little. He tasted like heaven and sin wrapped up together, and her only regret was that they were still in the stable and not someplace private.

  A second later, a phone rang. She ignored the sound, but then Cole drew back.

  She blinked, dazed. “Is that me?” She patted her jeans’ pocket. “Oh, you’re kidding.” She dug it out and fumbled trying to turn off the damn thing.

  “Go ahead and get it.”

  “No way.” She skimmed the lit screen. “Linda, you idiot, you’re on your honeymoon,” she muttered.

  He stopped her from turning off the phone. “Might as well answer. Someone’s coming.”

  “No.” Her shoulders sagged and it struck her that she’d just whined like a two-year-old. Then she heard the murmur of approaching voices.

  Cole smiled, brushed a brief kiss across her lips and moved back. “I’ll see you later, okay?”

  She brought the phone to her ear, stepped to the opening and morosely watched him stride off into the darkness. Night had fallen and she hadn’t even known.

  She gazed up at the cloud hiding the moon and pressed the button to receive the call. And then it dawned on her.

  She shrieked into the phone. “Holy crap, Linda.”

  “What!”

  “He said he’d see me later.”

  8

  COLE TRIED TO sneak in through the kitchen, but Rachel was cutting up a carrot cake for the guests. He let her railroad him into stopping in the den for a few minutes where the women were discussing their upcoming activities.

  Jamie was right. Most of them were on the overenthusiastic side, and he smiled thinking about how she’d be rolling her eyes at some of their untutored remarks. Trace ate it all up. He was more than happy to explain any misconceptions about running a ranch or white-water rafting, or any other topic, whether he knew spit about the subject or not.

  What pleased Cole was how much his mother seemed to be enjoying the company. She smiled more, had a new spring to her step. He hadn’t considered how lonely it was for her with only Hilda for company after Rachel had gone away to school. No denying the recent influx of cash from the dude ranch was welcomed, but the best payoff was seeing the light in his mom’s eyes again.

  He socialized for five minutes, ignored Rachel’s evil eye when he excused himself, then took the stairs two at a time to get to his room. He wanted to grab a quick shower, get the dust out of his hair. More than likely the August heat had gotten to him and he was completely out of his mind. But he wasn’t sorry he’d kissed Jamie, and he was hoping there’d be a knock at his door soon.

  What would happen after that, he wasn’t sure. After all his preaching to the hands to keep their heads on straight with the guests, he had a hell of a nerve. But Jamie was different. Even with that sharp city edge, she had a sweet wistfulness about her that drew him like a stallion to a mare in season.

  Normally he was a fair judge of character, and he felt sure if anything happened between them she’d be discreet. He liked that she hadn’t said anything about the Gunderson incident last night, and he’d bet Marge hadn’t gotten a word out of Jamie that she hadn’t wanted to part with.

  Still, he’d hate if Rachel or his mother found out, even Trace. Jesse would be fine. He never got in Cole’s business or expressed an unwanted opinion. He was the most cool-headed of the four of them, not that Cole would ever admit it to Jesse’s face. No sense upsetting the apple cart.

  He turned on the shower, and then peeled off his clothes while waiting for the water to heat. He caught a glimpse of his stubble-darkened jaw in the mirror, cursed himself and took out his razor. There was a chance he wouldn’t see Jamie again tonight, or that all they’d do was talk, but…

  Right. Only talk. Hell, he touched his semi-hard cock. One kiss and his body hadn’t calmed down yet. Maybe he should do something about it now, instead of risking reacting like a frustrated sixteen-year-old.

  Man, this wasn’t like him. He never brought his personal business home. And after what that bastard Gunderson had said, anyone would think Cole would be watching his step, keeping his focus on pulling the Sundance out of the hole. But there was something compelling about Jamie, like an itch he’d eventually have to scratch. She’d only be here five more days. No sense wasting time once the sun was up.

  * * *

  JAMIE CAST A final glance in the dresser mirror, then grabbed the ointment Cole had left her last night. If she’d misunderstood him earlier, pretending to return the jar would ease some of her embarrassment.

  Slowly she opened her bedroom door, hoping all doubt would be erased by him standing there ready to knock. No luck. Oh, God, she could be crazy wrong about his intention. That was the thing. If he’d seriously meant they’d see each other again tonight, he could’ve come to her. But he hadn’t, and she was unwilling to let a paltry thing like—she swallowed—um, pride…stop her from being with Cole.

  She did a quick hall check and then stepped over the threshold. No room for hesitation now, or she’d risk being spied by Rachel, or worse, Mrs. McAllister. So Jamie swiftly walked to his closed door, heard the downstairs grandfather clock chime ten and lifted her closed hand and knocked.

  It was late. Cole normally woke before dawn. She was an idiot. Was she about to blow the rest of her week?

  The door opened.

  Cole stood there, his hand on the knob, his hair damp, his shirt hanging open. “Hey.”

  Dear God in heaven, yes, he had a damn fine chest. Smooth, surprisingly tanned, the perfect amount of definition.

  She’d obviously stared too long.

  “Oh, sorry.” He’d glanced down, and was now hastily sliding buttons through holes.

  She really wanted to stop him, tell him it was okay, more than okay, but she still had enough wits about her to keep her mouth shut and not make the situation worse.

  “Come in,” he said, and sadly, by now his shirt was mostly buttoned up. The man worked fast.

  Not when he’d kissed her, though. He’d taken his time, his mouth slow and persuasive and…

  Bad detour. She couldn’t go there.

  “I’d prefer you didn’t stand in the hall like that,” he said, moving farther back, presumably to give her space.

  “Right.” She slid a glance toward the staircase before slipping past him into his dimly lit room. “Sorry, I know it’s late. I don’t have to stay…. I just wanted to drop this off.” She held up the jar, totally disgusted with herself for being a wuss. This wasn’t like her.

  He gave her a gentle smile that she should’ve drooled over, but that only made her feel more the idiot. “It’s not late for me,” he said, “but if you’re uncomfortable being here we can talk tomorrow, or go to my study.”

  “Your study?” She shuddered, knowing it was located downstairs off the great room. “There are women down there.”

  “Quite a few of them,” he agreed. “Here.”

  She glanced at the plain, straight-backed wooden chair he indicated, but she didn’t sit. “Is this too weird for you?” She checked out the king-size bed with the hand-carved cherry headboard and matching dresser. “You know, with your mom and brothers and Rachel right down the hall?”

  “I’m thirty-two. No one gets a say in what I do in my room. That said, I don’t want to broadcast.” His eyes gleamed with amusement. “We aren’t doing anything that would cause brows to raise.” He paused. “Are we?”

  “Not yet.”

  Cole smiled. “You want a drink?”

 
Surprised, she glanced around.

  “No, I don’t generally drink alone, nor do I make it a habit of entertaining here. I grabbed a bottle from the kitchen.”

  “Oh, which would be…?

  “Whiskey. Best I could do.”

  “Then whiskey it is.”

  He walked over to the dresser and there was the bottle in plain sight, next to the lamp, which provided the only light. Of course she’d missed it, though. Her entire nervous system had been operating in high gear since their earlier encounter. While on the phone she’d run her mouth so fast that Linda had had to tell her to slow down. Jamie just hoped no one outside had overheard her schoolgirl babbling. She didn’t think so. At least she’d had enough sense to walk toward the back of the stable for privacy.

  Cole poured the amber liquid into two glasses. “I can run down and get ice if you want.”

  “No, this is fine.” The truth was, she preferred beer or wine and didn’t care for whiskey. But she was a bit more nervous than usual. No excuse, but there it was, so she’d give it a try.

  She claimed the chair, then accepted the glass he offered, glad he’d given them each a judicious portion. Before he sat on the edge of his bed, she’d taken a small sip. But she made a face when the whiskey burned all the way down her throat.

  “You want water with that?” he asked, concern wrinkling his brow.

  “No, I’m good.” She swallowed hard, trying to erase the strong taste. “What is this—Wild Turkey?”

  “Nope, just plain ninety-proof firewater.”

  “Cooked up in your basement?”

  He smiled, and drained his glass. “Guess I should’ve offered you one of those sissy drinks.”

  “Actually,” she said with a sniff, “beer is my first choice.”

  “Mine, too, but only if it’s cold.”

  “Depending on which hemisphere you find yourself, that isn’t always possible.” She thought for a second. “I once had some Ozark moonshine called Apple Pie that I found interesting.”

  “And? Did it taste like apple pie?”

  “Not even close. More like Bananas Foster flambé. That sucker scorched my tonsils. I didn’t think I’d be able to talk for a week.”

  Cole reached over and set his empty glass on the bedside table. “I might have downed a scorcher or two in my time. Now I like to see a label on the bottle before I tip it.”

  She smiled at the quaint way he put things. “Have you lived anywhere else but here?”

  “I spent a year in Butte for school, but I didn’t like that much.”

  “Butte or school?”

  “Neither.”

  Jamie absently nodded, taking in the brown-and-taupe curtains, the patchwork comforter, and wondering if he’d had this same bedroom his whole life. She couldn’t imagine staying in one place for any longer than four years. That was the extent of her tenure, first in college and then in her condo in West L.A., and then only because her friends were there.

  “You’re trying to figure out why I don’t leave,” he said, his matter-of-factness belied by an underlying defensiveness in his voice.

  “Actually, I was trying to grasp what it would be like to stay in one place for so long.”

  His expression had changed to something bordering cynical. “Isn’t that the same thing?”

  “No,” she said, surprised. “I understand why you’d want to stay—your family is here, the country is beautiful, you have deep roots here….” She took in a deep breath. “It’s foreign to me, that’s all. I think it’s rather nice….” She let her voice trail off because the pity she’d seen earlier was in his eyes again, and she hated it, hated that she’d left herself unguarded. She pulled her shoulders back. “But you’ve traveled outside of Montana, right?”

  “I’ve been to Wyoming and Idaho for rodeos and auctions or to pick up livestock. Not sure that counts.” He shrugged, seemed relaxed again. “Can’t say that I’ve been to a big city like New York or L.A.”

  “Sometimes it’s fun to have plays and concerts and a variety of restaurants at your disposal, but a larger city certainly has its drawbacks.”

  “But you live in L.A.”

  “True…” She almost added that she’d bought her condo because her friends were there, except that had changed and she did not want to stir that pot again. She polished off the small sip of whiskey, tried not to shudder and set her glass beside his. “Tell me more about you.”

  “You’ve pretty much heard everything,” he said with a dry laugh. “This ranch has been, and I expect always will be, my life.”

  “I can see that. You belong here.”

  He studied her for a moment, as if mulling over what and how much he wanted to say. “I decided to join the army at one point. I was nineteen and figured I owed Uncle Sam a few years. A recruiter explained to my friend Noah and I that if we enlisted on the buddy system we’d do our tours together. Didn’t work out.”

  “They lied?”

  “No.” He seemed amused by her leap to judgment. “It was real enough, though I don’t think they do it anymore. This was thirteen years ago.” He hesitated, and when she stared expectantly at him, he said, “Hell, might as well spit it out. Noah reminds me often enough.”

  “Noah? He’s the sheriff?”

  “Yep, Noah Calder. Known him since… Well, I guess we’ve always known each other.” He got up, poured himself another shot of whiskey. This time half as much as the first.

  “I didn’t mean to sidetrack you.” She leaned forward. By the why-did-I-bring-this-up look on Cole’s face, she could tell this was going to be good. “Go on.”

  He took an unhurried sip. “I’m assuming you don’t want a refill.”

  She snorted. “Don’t try and change the subject.”

  The corners of his mouth lifted in a smirk and he sat down again, stretching out his long legs in front of him. He had on socks, no boots, and their feet were only inches apart. A totally juvenile thing to get mushy over, but she shivered anyway. Briefly considered that if he wanted to kiss her instead, she’d let him off the hook.

  “It’s not a big deal. Noah and I signed on the dotted line. Then when it was time to show up, turns out I was allergic to the wool in the uniform and they said thanks but no thanks.”

  She gaped at him. “So Noah got his hair buzzed off and you got to come home.”

  “Pretty much.”

  “Oh, nice.” She tried not to laugh and failed.

  “Hey, as soon as he was out he got GI Bill money to finish school, so no crying a river for him.”

  “But he hasn’t let you live it down.”

  He shook his head, a deadpan expression on his face. “We’ll both be ninety, rocking on that porch outside and he’ll still be telling the damn story.”

  “Well, it’s funny, but then it’s not.” Jamie sighed. “Sheesh, it’s like all my friends getting married en masse and leaving me in the dust.” She realized how that sounded and shifted her gaze away from him.

  “Even Noah would agree it worked out the way it was supposed to. My father passed away a year later,” Cole said quietly. “Jesse was already off at school. Trace and Rachel were still young. Mom couldn’t have handled the ranch by herself.”

  “I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.”

  He shrugged. “It was cancer. We had some warning. Not enough.” He finished the glass of whiskey. “But then I guess it’s never enough.”

  She leaned over and touched his leg, wanting to give comfort, nothing else. He closed a hand over hers, squeezing gently, then returned his glass to the nightstand.

  “Your mom was still young.”

  “Only forty-three.”

  “It’s been eleven years.” Jamie hoped she wasn’t overstepping. “Widowed that young, did she ever consider remarrying?”

  “I don’t think so. She never seemed interested in anyone. ’Course Fred Hutchins and Roger Limb were the only two men brave enough to risk getting past me and my brothers, and they were never candidates.”
>
  “Seriously? Did you run anyone off?”

  “Damn right I did. I kept a shotgun next to the front door.”

  “Cole!”

  “Don’t worry. No shots were fired. No threats made. The shotgun never left the closet. In the beginning there might have been a few narrowed-eyed warnings, but that’s it,” he added with a shrug.

  She suppressed a grin. “I guess that was only natural. You guys were still young.”

  “Rachel said it didn’t matter what anyone said or did. Dad was the love of Mom’s life. She would never have settled for anyone else.”

  “Wow. You think that’s true?” She sounded so sentimental and wistful that it embarrassed her. “I mean, that’s nice. Sweet, but sad, too, you know? So many divorces these days, or worse, couples living with indifference.”

  He looked confused. “I got the impression your parents are still together.”

  “They are, and actually they’re a very good match. They both consider duty to their country their number-one priority.” She saw the curiosity in his eyes, and quickly added, “I admire their loyalty and commitment.”

  “I understand,” he said, then sighed. “Despite what Noah might tell you, I had every intention of fulfilling my military obligation.”

  “Hmm, I’d like to meet this Noah.”

  “Is that right?” He shocked her by leaning over and grabbing her hand. With a gentle tug he had her on her feet.

  Jamie voluntarily took the couple steps necessary to wedge herself between his spread legs. She touched his strong angular jaw. His skin was warm and smooth. He’d taken the time to shave, and he smelled of soap and water and heat. She filled her lungs with his heady masculine scent and whispered, “I wish you’d left your shirt unbuttoned.”

  “That would’ve been rude,” he said, a small smile threatening the corners of his mouth. His head was tipped back, not much though, because he was so tall that even with him sitting his head came up past her shoulders.

  “And probably foolish.”

  “That, too.”

  “Or not.” She moved her hand to toy with his top button, and all she could think about was pulling that shirt off him. Being able to feel his naked chest against her tight aching nipples. She moistened her dry lips, and his gaze lowered to her mouth.