by A. J. Pine
He ducked out of the trunk door’s way and pivoted back in her direction, not realizing she’d followed him, and knocked his forehead right into hers.
She yelped.
For a second Colt saw stars, and then he saw her stumble backward and lose her footing. He dropped what he was holding and lunged for her, catching her around the waist and pulling her to him—as the cookie tin crashed open, the contents spilling all over the pavement.
In his head he heard himself roar a guttural Noooo! But out loud—to the slightly dazed, unquestionably beautiful, yet wholly maddening woman pressed tight against his chest—he whispered, “You okay?”
She blinked once, twice, then wrenched herself free from his grip.
“Lucy, no! You’ll toss your lunch if you eat those!”
Jenna dropped to a squat and grabbed for the chicken, but Lucy scrambled away with a chunk of shortbread inside her beak. She growled and chased after the bird while Colt snatched up the tin in an attempt to salvage what was left—three cookies. Out of two dozen.
He sealed the tin and threw it back in the car. Then he rummaged through his trunk until he found a reusable tote bag, and with a hollow heart—and belly—he gathered the fallen shortbread.
Lucy strutted toward him with Jenna still chasing after her as he picked up the final crumbled bits. The chicken pecked at the crumbs that were too small to gather, and Jenna threw her arms in the air with exasperation.
“That’s it!” she exclaimed. “Now you have to ride in the crate so you don’t mess up Colt’s nice car tossing that lunch all over the place.”
Colt straightened and sighed, biting back a grin. Thanks to her, Willow’s cookies were chicken feed now, but for some reason, he couldn’t find his way to anger with this woman.
“Isn’t it toss your cookies and lose your lunch?”
Jenna’s eyes narrowed. “Is it? Huh. Like you just tossed your cookies?”
He couldn’t help but laugh—at her mismatched idiom, her psychic chicken, and the fact that her observation was, in fact, spot on. He’d just tossed Willow’s cookies all over the damned driveway.
“Twenty-eight,” he said with a wince. “Figure you’re not letting me off the hook until I put my foot all the way in my mouth, so there. I guessed. Can we go now?”
She stared at him for a long moment, eyes wide, like she was waiting for him to say something else. When he didn’t, she walked right up to him, placed a palm on each of his cheeks—and kissed him.
Colt’s stomach fell out from under him like he’d just gone over the top of a roller-coaster drop. What. Was. Happening? He was meant to pick up the Everetts’ elderly aunt and drive her up to the ranch. Now he was locking lips with a stranger who was anything but—and he’d give the rest of Willow’s toffee shortbread cookies to do it again.
“Yes,” she said matter-of-factly, but her cheeks were flushed, which was probably nothing compared with his wide-eyed stare. “We can go now. Right after I do this.” She pulled her phone out and said, “Say cheese!” then captured whatever his expression looked like and added it to her photo feed.
“That’s not going up on any sort of social med—” But he was interrupted before he could finish his request.
Because Lucy paused her crumb scavenging and straightened, letting out a loud and definitive squawk.
A dog barked, and a toddler let out a wail as a light went on in the Everett house.
Jenna threw a hand over her mouth.
“Now!” he yelled as she grabbed Lucy into her arms.
And, laughing, they both ran toward the car.
Chapter Three
In their mad dash to escape Oak Bluff before her nephew gave her a well-deserved earful, Jenna had had the forethought to grab Lucy’s travel coop from where it had been waiting beside the house, so now Lucy was quiet-ish in the rear of the vehicle.
Jenna studied her road trip—partner? Accomplice?
Smooch buddy?
Holy hell. She’d kissed him. Just like that. And he’d kissed her back. It wasn’t under the stars, so it didn’t exactly check an item off her list, but it was as if putting the words to paper had unlocked Jenna’s inhibitions in a way that made her think she might actually accomplish at least items one through six. Seven—seven would have to wait and see.
Colt’s sandy hair had that rumpled, just-out-of-bed look she guessed was often covered with a Cattleman when he was out on the ranch. It suited him, though, this relaxed look that not all men could pull off.
“Sorry about your cookies,” she finally said when they were a good hour from Jack and Ava’s house. Jenna had suggested a more scenic route. After all, she had a full two weeks at the ranch. Why spend six hours on a boring highway when they could drive through vineyards and farms and enjoy the view?
Colt hadn’t argued, but he also hadn’t said much since she’d made the suggestion. They’d shared a laugh and the adrenaline rush of peeling out of the driveway before getting themselves in a heap of trouble with her nephew and family. She did feel bad about waking the baby up, but the thrill of the situation…It had been a long time since she’d felt so alive and in the moment. She’d thought Colt was on the same page, but as soon as they’d gotten on the road, he’d gone all but silent, letting whatever was playing on the radio fill the space between them.
His jaw tightened in response to her apology, and then he exhaled.
“They must have been pretty damned good to warrant that kind of reaction,” she added. “A few survived, didn’t they?”
He nodded. “Three. Three of my sister’s two dozen toffee shortbread cookies survived. Your hen got the rest.”
She winced. “If you hadn’t turned around so fast—”
“If you hadn’t sneaked up on me like you did,” he interrupted.
She rubbed her forehead at the memory of their collision, and he finally glanced her way.
“Aaaand, I’m an ass for not double-checking if you’re okay,” he said. “Are you—okay?”
She waved him off. “A little bump on the head? It’s nothin’. I’ve handled worse.” As soon as the last sentence was out of her mouth, she wished she could take it back. What if he asked what she meant? The worse that she’d handled was behind her. The last thing they needed to do was start digging up painful pasts after having met less than two hours ago.
He smiled, and his shoulders relaxed.
“You’re a strong woman,” he said matter-of-factly. “I bet you can handle anything.”
Her cheeks flushed, and she silently cursed herself for leaving her sunglasses in her backpack. But it was overcast, and she hadn’t needed them until now when she wanted to hide her reaction from the man beside her.
She laughed nervously. “You don’t even know me,” she said.
He shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road. “Maybe not, but I’m pretty good at reading people. Kinda like Lucy, I guess.”
Maybe he was making her blush, but at least he wasn’t so bent out of shape about those cookies anymore.
“You’re psychic?” she said.
He chuckled. “I like the way you say that word. With your accent. SAH-kik.”
This time the flush spread from her cheeks, down her neck, and all the way to her belly. Was he— Was Colt Morgan flirting with her?
They went on like this for at least another hour, maybe more. It was harmless at first, but the more Jenna got in her head about it, the more she convinced herself that all his compliments and niceties would fall by the wayside the second he knew the slightest truth about her.
Colt had just turned up the radio and started humming to a country tune—which only made her like him more. So she cracked.
“I’m forty!” she blurted, putting an end to any such thing before it began. “The stay at the ranch is a gift from my nephews for my birthday.”
His brows rose, but other than that, he barely reacted.
“And I’m thirty,” he said. “Glad we got the formalities out of the way.” He glanced
her way and winked, his lips parting in a heart-stopping grin. “Happy birthday, Jenna. We’ll have to celebrate once we make our way up north.”
As soon as the words left his mouth, lightning lit up the sky. In a matter of minutes their drive went from quiet and almost flirtatious to a torrential downpour, making it almost impossible for them to see out the windshield while Lucy screeched from the back of the SUV.
“Oh my God,” Jenna said. “My weather app said nothing more than clouds for today. Where is this coming from?” Storms in California were few and far between. Storms like this? Jenna hadn’t seen one like it since she was a kid in Texas.
Colt swore. “Tropical storm off the coast of Mexico!” he called out, his voice barely audible against the pounding rain. “Was supposed to miss us! I guess it changed its mind!”
Thunder seemed to shake the road in front of them, and for a second Jenna wondered if they were in the middle of some apocalyptic earthquake/tornado mash-up. They hadn’t fallen into the earth’s core. Not yet, at least. But the vehicle started to lean to the left, like it was toppling over.
Jenna yelped.
“It’s okay,” he said, and she could tell he was fighting to stay calm. “It’s just a flat tire. I have a spare. But we need to pull over and wait out the storm before I can change it.”
She watched the windshield wipers try and fail to keep up with the downpour.
“There!” She pointed, the flash of red ahead the only indication they might actually find shelter. “I think it’s a farmhouse. If we can make it…” She didn’t like the thought of them stranded on the side of the road in such a blinding storm.
He nodded, his knuckles white as they gripped the wheel.
Every rotation of the other three tires felt like it would be the one that finally knocked them over. She bit back another yelp. That wasn’t what he needed right now. Then instinct took over as she leaned forward, straining to make out the entrance to the farmhouse’s private drive. She placed a palm on his thigh and gave him a reassuring squeeze.
“I can see it!” she said, filled with that same adrenaline from when they’d first left Oak Bluff. “Slow down,” she added with as much calm as she could muster. “It’s on your left—there!”
Colt turned the steering wheel as the vehicle thumped and pitched and finally rolled past the entrance to the farm’s property and off the country road. He let it go a few more feet before putting on the brakes and shifting into park.
“You did it!” Jenna squealed as another clap of thunder shook the ground. Without thinking, she undid her seat belt and wrapped her arms around his neck, squeezing him tight.
“We did it,” he said softly, his warm lips so close—too close—to her ear.
She jumped back into her seat and cleared her throat, then held out her hand for a more appropriate shake.
“Well done, Mr. Morgan,” she said, way more formal than necessary.
He laughed and obliged her by reciprocating the gesture. “Well done, Ms. Owens. Should we hole up here or see if anyone’s home?” There was a glint of mischief in his eyes.
They definitely should not hole up alone and so close to one another in a disabled vehicle.
“I have to pee like you wouldn’t believe!” she blurted. Because nothing said Please, if you were flirting with me (which you probably weren’t because as nice as you are, I’m a whole fifth grader older than you), let me clear any notions from your head about me being attractive by bringing up urination.
Colt laughed. “Knocking on the door it is, then. I’ll be right back.”
With that he hopped out of the car and into the downpour, likely soaked before his feet hit the ground.
Oh no he wouldn’t. There would be no chivalry here. Not if she had anything to say about it.
She opened her own door and took off after him, drenched by the time she caught up to him at the red farmhouse’s front door.
He tried yelling something over the rain as his fist pounded against the door, but all she heard was something that sounded like possum.
Possum? Why in the world would he be talking about—
The door flew open, and an older couple stared at them.
“We have a flat!” Colt called over the downpour. “And I can’t change it until—”
“Come in! Come in!” the woman said, ushering them inside.
But before Jenna was through the door, she gasped and spun back toward the car.
“Lucy! I can’t just leave Lucy!” she cried.
“I’m on it,” Colt said, and he raced back down the drive without giving Jenna a chance to protest.
Not cool, him being all chivalrous again when she was prepared to get her chicken herself. It made her like him more when she didn’t want to like anyone. She wanted to have fun. She wanted a fling. Not a knight in shining armor saving her chicken from a storm.
The older woman before her placed a hand on Jenna’s dripping forearm and urged her over the threshold and into the house.
“Who’s Lucy?” the man asked, and now that water wasn’t dripping incessantly down her face, she could see the tall, lanky farmer more clearly. He brushed a wisp of thinning gray hair off his forehead.
Jenna offered a nervous smile. “My chicken?” There was no question whether or not Lucy was her chicken; the question in her tone was more of the Is-it-okay-if-I-bring-her-into-your-home-so-she-doesn’t-die-in-an-abandoned-vehicle type.
The woman smoothed her dark, only slightly graying hair behind her ears and smiled. “We don’t have a coop of our own, but she’s welcome in the garage with the tractor. We can get her some water and some fruit and veggies to eat if that works. I’m Maggie, by the way. And this is Robert,” she added, nodding toward the man Jenna assumed was Maggie’s husband.
Jenna let out a shaky breath and nodded, her arms wrapped around her torso trying to keep herself warm, the storm having brought an unseasonal temperature drop right along with it. “That would be wonderful. Thank you!” Then she stared downward, where a muddy puddle pooled around her feet on the kind couple’s rustic wood floor. “I’m so sorry!” she said. “Y’all are being so nice to perfect strangers, and I seem to be ruining your floor. And I’m Jenna.” She held out a dripping hand, then thought better of it when Maggie hesitated and went back to hugging herself—not that it was helping.
“Nonsense,” the other woman said with a wave just as Colt burst through the door behind them.
Jenna spun to find Lucy’s travel coop in his arms—and Colt covered in mud from head to boot. Her mouth fell open while Colt’s seemed to be clamped shut—probably so he wouldn’t swallow any of the mud on his lips.
She was too wet for her journal, which was still trapped in the car anyway. Also, it wasn’t as if she was suddenly ready to put pen to paper, but when and if she was, the sight before her would be quite the fun inspiration for a story. She could see the title now: “California Mud Creature Strikes Again.” Or something less ridiculous. What could she say? She was rusty as hell at this, but thinking about writing was a step in the right direction, wasn’t it?
“Please forgive me for this,” Jenna said, then pulled her phone from her pocket and snapped a couple of photos of him. His expression, the dark, dripping muck, and Lucy safe amid it all—it was a portrait like nothing she could have imagined.
“Oh no!” Maggie said. “Robert, get the chicken to the garage while I show Jenna and her—”
“Friend!” Jenna blurted. “I mean sort of. Colt and I only just met an hour or so ago, but we’re driving to…” She trailed off, realizing her verbal vomit meant standing here wet and cold—and Colt standing there covered in mud—even longer. “Sorry,” she said, wincing in Colt’s direction. “Maggie, you sounded like maybe there was somewhere we could clean up?”
Maggie nodded, and Robert was already en route with Lucy.
“Stay here for a minute while I get you some towels. Maybe we can minimize the mess by having you towel off first. Then I’ll show you to the g
uest room and bathroom. It’s not much, but it’s better than you two being out there.” Maggie nodded over their shoulders. Then she stared at Jenna and Colt for a moment longer, her lips pursed. “I can see the SUV’s flat, and you two and your chicken look safe enough…”
Jenna smiled and held up her right hand like she was taking a formal oath. “Y’all have nothing to worry about with us. We’ll be out of your hair as soon as the storm lets up and Colt can change the tire. I’ll even give you my driver’s license once we get our stuff out of the car.” Her eyes widened as recognition bloomed. It was clear by Colt’s current state that it wasn’t exactly safe to go back to the car yet again. “Our bags are sort of in the car.”
Maggie gave her a warm smile. “I’m sure I have something you can borrow.” She looked the silent Colt up and down. “You look about Robert’s height. Broader for sure, but we’ll find you some dry clothes too. Now,” she said, “back in a second with some towels.”
“Thank you!” Jenna called after her. Then she shivered and pivoted in her growing puddle to face Colt.
She bit her lip and tried to stifle her reaction. “Did you—fall?” she asked, the corner of her mouth twitching into a smile.
Colt’s eyes narrowed, which only made him look more like a sinister swamp beast, and Jenna couldn’t help herself. She burst into a fit of laughter, but it was cut short when her foot slipped in its own puddle and she pitched forward, wrapping her arms around Colt for purchase as she slammed against his muddy chest.
“How about that for karma?” he said, his deep voice tinged with self-satisfaction.
She found her footing and pulled away, her cheek and T-shirt following the rest of her body as they peeled away from the thick, wet mud.
Now he was grinning. It was the biggest smile she’d seen since she’d met him this morning.
“I could get all salty about this,” she said with her brows raised. “But I like to see the positive side of things. Glass half full and all that.” She itched to wipe the mud from her nose and cheek, but then it would just be on her hand, and what would she do after that?