Jake no sooner spoke than a loud crash came from the front of the house. It sounded like someone had just thrown open the front door with such force that it smacked the interior wall. He cocked an ear. Hank threw a bewildered look over his shoulder. A fast click of footsteps in the hallway reached their ears.
“Where are you, Jake Coulter!” a high-pitched voice cried.
Hank’s eyebrows shot clear to his hairline. “Uh-oh.”
Jake was just pushing up from the chair when a small bundle of furious female barreled into his kitchen. Hands doubled into fists, she stopped just inside the archway, braced her feet wide apart, and flashed him a fiery glare.
“Where is my rotor?” she demanded.
“Your what?” Jake tried.
“My rotor!” she cried again. “How dare you remove it?” She took a threatening step closer. “Tell your mother to add arrogant to that list of faults. You had no right to disable my vehicle. No right, do you hear?”
She was shaking. Shaking violently. It occurred to Jake in that moment that she was far more upset than the situation warranted. Granted, he had stepped over the line. But even so, no permanent damage had been done.
He looked deeply into her eyes, and behind the glitter of outrage, he saw panic, the same kind of panic he experienced whenever anyone tried to hold him down. He lost all sense of reason, started to feel as if he couldn’t breathe, and fought like a crazy man to get away.
“Molly, keep your perspective,” he said, injecting a soothing tone into his voice.
“Perspective?” She grabbed for breath. “You stole my rotor, and now you accuse me of losing my perspective? You’re attempting to hold me here against my will.”
“Those are pretty strong words.”
She fixed him with a virulent glare. “I want my car part.”
“All right,” He held up his hands. “Just calm down.”
“I’ll calm down when you return my rotor, and not before!” She took another step toward him. “I mean it! You hand it over!”
Jake had a bad feeling he was about to be taken apart by a pint-sized whirlwind. She looked ready to put out her claws and go for his eyes. Under other circumstances, he might have thought the situation humorous. But there was nothing funny about that look in Molly’s eyes. The lady wasn’t merely angry or upset. She was frantic.
He was about to assure her that he would return her rotor posthaste when she spun and started opening drawers. “No one keeps me where I don’t want to stay. No one!“
She jerked so hard on the junk drawer that the rollers parted company with the runners. With the handle still hooked over her fingers, the drawer dived toward the floor and smacked her across the shins. She cried out in pain. Stuff spilled everywhere.
For a moment, Jake could only stare stupidly at a foil condom package that had landed at his feet. Where in bloody hell had that come from? He threw an accusing look at his brother, who shrugged, denial implicit in the gesture. Jake could only conclude that one of the hired hands must have stuck it there. Fantastic. Now Molly would think they were a bunch of sex fiends who had olive-oil orgies in the kitchen.
But Molly didn’t see the condom. She had eyes only for the rotor, which wasn’t there, and she continued to search for it with a single-mindedness that Jake found alarming. She dropped that drawer and jerked open another one.
Hoping to save her shins and his kitchen, Jake stepped forward to grab her arm. At his touch, she turned and planted a knotty little fist directly over his solar plexus. His breath whooshed from his chest. For a second, all he could do was hunch his shoulders and gasp like a landed fish while he stared at her in stunned amazement.
“Don’t touch me!”
Okay, fine, he wanted to say, but the words wouldn’t come.
“I want my rotor. You hand it over, or else!”
“I will, Molly,” he finally managed to croak. “Just—give me a minute.”
“I want it now! Or I swear, I’ll steal a truck. Turn me in for that, why don’t you?”
Bent forward to hold his belly, he rasped, “We don’t leave keys in our vehicles.”
“I’ll hot-wire one!”
Hank sat back, clearly enjoying the show. “Never checked her own oil, huh?”
Jake shot a glare at his brother. “Shut up, Hank,” he said weakly. Grabbing for another breath, he returned his gaze to Molly. “I’ll give you the rotor. But first, you’ve got to calm down.”
She thrust her arms down to her sides. “Now! I want it right now!”
Jake cleared his throat, straightened. He started for the archway that led into the great room. En route, he tried to reason with her. “You really shouldn’t leave, Molly. At least you’ll be safe here. If trouble catches up with you, there are eleven men on the Lazy J to watch out for you.”
“I’m sick to death tired of being told what to do! And I don’t need a bunch of arrogant, overbearing males to watch out for me.”
At the back of Jake’s mind, he knew he’d be wise to keep his mouth shut, but who had ever accused him of being wise? “Pardon me for pointing it out, but physically, you’re no match for a man. If your ex-husband catches you alone, what the hell are you going to do?”
“That’s my concern, not yours. Just give me my rotor.”
Jake reached the coffee table and stared blankly at its surface. No rotor. He knew damned well he’d put it right there. So where in the hell had it gone? One word circled repeatedly in his brain—shit.
“It’s gone.” He knew before he spoke that she wasn’t going to believe he hadn’t hidden it. “I put it right here, I swear to God.” He bent to look under the table. “Where the hell—?”
“Don’t give me that!” she cried.
Jake straightened and held up his hands. “Molly, I swear on all that’s holy that I left it right here.” He walked around to look under the couch. Holy hell. “Hank?” he yelled. “Did you take the damned rotor?”
Hank sauntered into the archway, leaned a shoulder against the frame, and flashed a lazy grin. “Why would I take the damned rotor? I’ve got my own damned rotor.”
“This isn’t funny,” Jake warned.
His brother crossed his ankles. “Depends on your view-point, I guess. I think it’s hilarious.” Molly turned and let out a hiss so sibilant it sounded venomous. Hank nodded politely. “I’m pleased to make your acquaintance, too. I’m Hank, by the way.” His grin broadened. “The arrogant bastard’s little brother. And just for the record, arrogance is only one of his many shortcomings. Bad manners rank high on the list, to my way of thinking. He could at least introduce us properly.”
“I just want my rotor,” she cried.
Hank glanced at the table. “He really did put it right there. I can’t think where it went, unless it grew legs.” His gaze fell on the Stetson. “You look under your hat, Jake?”
Before Jake could do that, Molly descended on the coffee table. She jerked the hat up by its crown, scrunching the carefully shaped felt with angry fingers. Jake winced. Stetsons didn’t come cheap, and he wasn’t a rich man.
Sure enough, there lay the rotor.
She dropped the Stetson and grabbed up the engine part. Pressing it to her waist, she hurried from the room as if the hounds of hell were at her heels.
Jake stared after her, feeling ashamed on the one hand, but still very concerned about her on the other. Now that she had her car part, she’d undoubtedly leave as quickly as she could, the only question being where she might go. Earlier that day, she’d told him she had very little money. How long would it last? And what would she do when it was gone, pull off to the side of the road somewhere and sleep in her rig?
The stallion started to scream just then, the shrieks rending the night and drifting faintly into the house. In his mind’s eye, Jake saw Molly scurrying past the horse’s pen, her footsteps carrying her inexorably toward the cabin and freedom. It would take only a few seconds to put the rotor back in her rig. She could be gone in five minutes.
Still standing in the archway, Hank said, “What’re you going to do, Jake?”
At the question, Jake came back to himself, visions of Molly being beaten circling through his head. He grabbed his hat. Without bothering to reshape the crown, he shoved it on his head. “I guess I’ll go talk to her. If I can get her calmed down, maybe I can convince her to stay.”
“Talking. Hmm.” Hank nodded his approval. “There’s a good plan. Too bad you didn’t think of it before you stole her rotor.”
Caught midstride by the dig, Jake stopped and looked back at his brother. “You know, Hank, one of these times someone’s going to take exception to that smart mouth.”
Hank smiled. “You reckon?”
Jake found Molly sitting on the front porch of the cabin. Arms locked around her bent legs, face pressed to her knees, she was shaking like a leaf. Jake was somewhat encouraged by the fact that the rotor lay beside her on the step. He hoped that meant she was no longer in a big rush to leave, but he thought it more likely that she was simply too upset.
When he stepped close to grab the engine part, she flinched and jerked her head up to stare at him. In the moonlight, her face looked as white as fresh snow and her eyes were huge glistening spheres of amber, reflecting emotions that made his heart twist. She’d been wary of him before; now, thanks to his idiocy, she was downright spooked.
He stood there for a moment, groping for the words to apologize. Unfortunately, he’d never been a glib talker. That was a failing that grew worse when he got upset, and he was plenty upset right then, mainly with himself. Of all the damned fool things for him to do, this latest took the prize.
Words failing him, he strode around to the front of her rig, lifted the hood, and set himself to the task of setting a wrong right. After he finished, he wiped his hands on his jeans and retraced his path to the porch, dreading the conversation yet to come. He owed her a heartfelt apology, and he needed to make it convincing.
When he sat beside her on the step, she inched away and hunched her shoulders. The posture was so defensive he felt a little sick. This was his fault, entirely his fault. The Lazy J was remotely located. Under the best of circumstances, any female with brains would be uneasy, and thanks to him, these were far from the best of circumstances.
He stared off into the darkness, wishing he knew what the hell to say. When nothing brilliant came to mind, he fell back on childlike simplicity. “I’m sorry for what I did.”
No answer. She just huddled there, shivering. She looked so small and alone that he wished he could hug her. The yearning came over him so suddenly and with such sharpness that it gave him pause. What was happening here? He’d always liked women and enjoyed their friendship, but this was the first time he’d ever experienced such fierce feelings of protectiveness for a female outside his family.
“I’ve got a bad habit of acting before I think sometimes,” he went on cautiously. “If you want to leave, you’re free to go. I’ll even help you load back up.”
Still no answer.
He sighed and rubbed his eyes. Damn. “You’re right. It was arrogant of me to think I know what’s best for you. If I could take it back, I would.”
“Me, too,” she said in a quivering voice. “I can’t believe I hit you. I’ve never hit anyone. Never! I can’t believe I did it.”
Jake suppressed a smile, relieved that she was at least willing to talk to him. “No real harm done.”
She straightened and extended her arms in front of her, elbows resting on her knees, hands knotted into small fists. “I can’t stand to feel trapped. It makes me crazy.”
He wished he could coax her into telling him more, but he erred on the side of caution and filed away that tidbit of information for later. “No one likes to feel trapped.”
She rubbed her arms, making him wish he had a jacket to give to her. “I was irrational, out of control. I don’t know what came over me.”
In the moonlight, her eyes were huge splashes of luminous darkness, her pale face framed by a fiery nimbus of rebellious curls that had escaped her braid. Jake ached to cup her chin in his hand and trace the fragile line of her cheekbone with his thumb. Even without makeup, she was lovely, and it saddened him that she didn’t seem to know it.
“Only crazy people do crazy things,” she said hollowly.
“Well, then, I reckon we’re both nuts. Stealing your rotor to keep you here wasn’t exactly a rational move.”
She flashed him a startled look, her eyes bright with unshed tears. “At least you didn’t become physically violent.”
On a comparative scale, Jake figured his had been the worse offense. She hadn’t really hurt him, after all. “Don’t worry about it, Molly. I had a punch or two coming, and I’m none the worse for it.”
“I still shouldn’t have hit you. You must have thought I’d lost my mind.” A haunted look came into her eyes. “Who knows? Maybe I have.”
Resting his arms on his knees, he let his hands dangle and listened to an owl hoot into the night. Somewhere out in the darkness, a small rodent was probably scrambling for safety.
“I’ll accept your apology if you’ll accept mine,” he said huskily. “I never meant to upset you like that. I just wanted to help.” He waited a beat. “I knew you’d probably take off. I was worried about what could happen to you.”
“Nothing will happen if I’m careful not to let anyone find me.”
“They’re bound to find you eventually, Molly. You can’t run long enough or far enough to avoid the cops forever.”
“I know that.” She rubbed her forehead as if it hurt. “All I need is seven months.”
He mentally circled that. “Why seven months?”
“A certain difficulty in my life will be over then,” she told him. “After that, I’ll still be in big trouble for stealing the horse, but if I act quickly and play my hand right, the consequences won’t be too terrible. Unless, of course, he can somehow petition the court for another year.”
Jake realized she was talking more to herself than to him and revealing things she didn’t intend to in the process. Unfortunately, the information made little sense to him. “Petition the court for another year of what? I’m not following.”
She groaned. “I know you’re not. I’m sorry. Just take my word for it, all right? I can’t contact the authorities about Sunset for seven months. If I do, he’ll find me, and if he does, my goose is cooked.”
“Then stay here for that period of time,” Jake encouraged. “Seven months isn’t so terribly long, not in the overall scheme of things.”
She threw him an accusing look. “And have you call the Humane Society behind my back, thinking you know what’s best?”
Jake knew he had that coming. “I give you my word I won’t do that. Not without your knowledge and permission.”
“And I’ll never give it.”
“Why, Molly? Can’t you tell me just that much? Getting the animal protection agencies involved and on your side would be a smart move.”
She shook her head and shivered again. “Not for me, it wouldn’t.”
“Why? Two heads are better than one. Tell me what’s got you so frightened. Maybe together we can find a solution.”
A closed look came over her face, and she shook her head again.
Jake puffed air into his cheeks. Calling the Humane Society was the best thing to do. Why the hell couldn’t she see that? No court in the land would send her to jail for stealing that horse to protect it.
“At least do this much for me,” he said softly. “Stay on here. Don’t take off to parts unknown where you’ll have no friends to turn to.”
When she started to shake her head again, Jake quickly added, “I won’t call the Humane Society, Molly. I swear it. I won’t call anyone unless you ask me to. You can stay on, just as you planned. No questions, no pressure. The job is still yours.”
She fixed huge, frightened, and very uncertain eyes on him. “How do I know you’ll keep your word? That you wo
n’t call someone behind my back?”
Jake had always prided himself on being a man of honor, and the question stung for an instant. But the fear he saw in her eyes made it impossible for him to feel offended. She had no way of knowing what kind of man he was, after all. Evidently, she had a great deal to lose if she trusted him, and he stood to lose nothing if he betrayed her. Aside from the Lazy J, which was a family heritage he’d once believed forever lost, Jake had only one possession that he truly treasured.
Straightening one leg to raise his hip, he reached into the front pocket of his Wranglers and drew that possession out. Holding it up by the heavy gold chain, he said, “This is my grandpa’s watch. Right before he died, he gave it to me. I’ve carried it with me ever since.” He gazed at it for a moment then smiled ruefully. “It broke some time back. I know I should get it fixed, but I can’t bear to let a jewelry shop send it off for repair. I’m afraid it might get lost.”
He lifted Molly’s hand, lowered the watch onto her palm, and curled her fingers around it.
“What are you doing?” she asked thinly.
“Putting it in your safekeeping,” he said huskily. “When you leave the Lazy J, I’ll expect you to return it to me. Until then, consider it collateral against my word. If I go in default, it’s yours to keep.”
She unfurled her fingers, tried to press the watch back on him. “That isn’t necessary.”
He waved her hand away. “No. You keep it. As insurance. Aside from this ranch and the people I love, there’s nothing I value more than that watch. If I go back on my word, it’s yours.”
Jake pushed to his feet and gazed at the starlit sky for a moment. He thought of that little rodent again, pictured it scurrying madly for safety and possibly making a fatal wrong turn in its panic. The night owl was still calling, ever ready to dive down and seize its prey. The rodent’s only hope was to stick tight and keep its head down.
“You can go or stay, Molly. I hope you’ll choose to stay. I’m sorry for trying to make that decision for you.” He glanced down at her. “If you choose to haul ass, don’t forget to leave the watch on the table. If you take it with you, it’ll break my heart. When you read the inscription, you’ll understand why.”
Sweet Nothings Page 8