by A. J. Pine
“Do share,” Colt said. “I’d love to hear your spin on the situation.”
She shrugged. “Before you were salty, and I was the only one smiling. Now look at you. You might resemble a creature from a B-rated horror film, but you’re smiling from ear to ear. You’re welcome, by the way.”
He opened his mouth to protest, but Maggie reappeared with a stack of dark green bath towels in her arms.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s see. Maybe if you take off your shoes and socks and wipe away as much as you can from what might drip along the way…” She handed them each a couple of towels. “Up the stairs and to the right, you’ll find the guest room and bathroom where there are more towels, and I’ll drop off some clothes you two can wear while we get yours clean and dry.”
Jenna kicked off her sneakers while Colt struggled with his boots but somehow got them off without falling ass-over-elbow.
“Thank you,” he said as Maggie handed him his towels. “And my apologies for being less than cordial when I walked in.”
Maggie laughed softly. “Don’t think twice about it,” she said. “You remind me of our son, Jonathan. He got caught out in the hay field one time—I think he was about fourteen? By the time he made it back to the house, he looked a lot like you do right now. And he was a lot less cordial.”
“Is Jonathan here?” Jenna asked as she wiped as much mud from her face, shirt, and legs as she could.
“He’s going to be a senior at UC Santa Cruz,” Robert said, returning from the garage without the chicken he’d left with. “Stayed there for the summer to do an internship at some beach resort. Grew up on a farm and decided hotel management was for him.” Robert shrugged. “As long as he’s happy. I just hope he doesn’t end up working any farther away than he is right now.”
“Okay, okay,” Maggie said. “We’re not going to get all weepy empty-nester on you two. We’ll tell you all about Jonathan when you’re cleaned up. For now, how about you toss those dirty towels on the floor and head on upstairs? You both must be freezing.”
Jenna nodded. She wanted nothing more than to stand under the spray of a hot shower. She was chilled to the bone. But she supposed it was only fair to let Colt go first, seeing as how he was barely recognizable as human at this point.
“Thank you,” they both said in unison. Then Colt gestured for Jenna to head up first.
“In case you fall again,” he said with a wink. “Want to make sure I’m there to catch you.”
Jenna tried to ignore the little flip in her belly at his words. He was teasing her. It didn’t mean anything more than him wanting to muddy her up again.
Muddy her up again. Why did that sound—appealing?
She shook her head and laughed to herself as she made her way up the stairs, carefully so as not to fall.
Her attraction to Colt was undeniable, and Have a vacation fling was also undeniably on her list. But his flirting with her? It could be nothing more than the same stupid chivalry he’d shown when he went outside to rescue Lucy.
Colt Morgan was a good man—a gorgeous, younger good man. Men in Colt’s shoes had the world at their feet. They wanted love. They wanted families. She knew men like him. Hell, she helped raise three of them. Why in the world would someone like him be in the market for a fling with an older woman who had nothing to offer him other than two weeks?
Nope. Nope. Nope. The muddied, chivalrous cowboy walking up the stairs behind her who was maybe, possibly checking out her rear end was not an option.
Jenna made a mental note to add another item to her list once she had her sketch pad in hand.
No more flirting with Colt.
Chapter Four
Colt wasn’t sure a shower had ever felt better than the one he’d just taken. For several minutes the water had run gray as it washed away the mud that was caked on his lower arms, his neck, and his face—the rest matted in his hair. He was worried he might clog the drain, turning it into a veritable swamp. But soon the water ran clean, and the drain seemed no worse for the wear.
Now he stood with a towel wrapped around his waist and a fogged-up mirror staring back at him, his wallet, phone, and other contents from his pockets piled onto a corner of the counter.
Today was supposed to be simple—say good-bye to his sister, snack on some home-baked cookies, and give a guest a ride back up to Meadow Valley. Now he was stranded in the worst storm he’d seen in California since—ever—with a wholly unexpected woman who’d kissed him mere minutes after meeting him.
He ran a hand through his wet hair and laughed. Today had been a day, all right. And Jenna Owens was something else. First of all, she was not the elderly aunt of three grown men he’d expected her to be. Quite the opposite. Also, she nearly gave him a concussion sneaking up on him when he was loading the SUV. She was definitely the cause of him losing most of Willow’s homemade cookies. And now she was, what…his roommate for the night? Because according to the forecast, this storm was supposed to keep at it until daybreak tomorrow.
He pushed through the door that connected the bathroom to the bedroom and was greeted with cool air that felt good after the time he’d spent in the heat.
“Oh!” Jenna said, her eyes wide where she sat gingerly at the edge of the bed, likely in an attempt to keep their sleeping area clean from the mud she’d picked up. “You’re—naked.”
He glanced down at his bare chest and the towel still secure around his waist.
“Technically,” he said, “I am wearing the towel. It was either this or put my clothes back on, and that’s not exactly an option.”
Jenna patted a pile of clothes on the bed next to her and let out a nervous laugh.
“Right,” she said, the word sounding more like rahht with her Texas lilt. “Maggie just brought all of this in for us. Guess I forgot you’d need to get dressed out here.”
She stood and grabbed the pile that was meant for her.
“So I’ll just head in and get cleaned up myself,” Jenna said.
But she didn’t move. And she hadn’t taken her eyes off him. And he was enjoying it more than he should.
“See something you like?” he asked, and she gasped.
“I wasn’t—” she stammered. “I mean I didn’t—” She blew out a breath. “Colt Morgan, I swear. This day is nothing like I expected.”
She gave him a playful whack on the side with the folded pile of clothes in her hands. And the towel that was holding firm a second ago decided it was relieved of its obligation and fell to the floor.
He crossed his arms. Because now she was really staring, eyes as wide as saucers and her chin almost hitting the floor.
“Now do you see something you like?”
Her mouth snapped shut. For a second he expected her to turn and run out the bedroom door, but instead she squinted and tilted her head toward his nether region.
“See what?” she asked with doe-eyed innocence. “Is there something there?”
Before he could answer—because this time he was the one mouth agape and speechless—she snorted with laughter and sauntered past him and into the bathroom, kicking the door shut behind her.
Did she just—? She didn’t really think his—did she?
He tilted his head down to get a better look at what she saw and grinned proudly.
Nah. She’s just messing with you, Morgan.
But something in their dynamic had shifted. They were flirting, weren’t they? He shook his head and laughed. What would it matter if they were? She was on her way to spend two weeks at his ranch—with her hen, no less—and wasn’t looking for any romantic entanglements. Or was she?
Was he?
It was almost six years ago that he’d thought he’d be off the market for good. Yet some days, that almost still felt like only. At the ripe old age of thirty, Colt had found both a family and a lifetime career running a ranch with Sam and Ben Callahan. All he was missing was someone to spend that lifetime with, someone with whom he could build a family of his own. He
hadn’t given up on that part of the dream, but the fear of losing it again had made him stop chasing it. Now it felt like his bubble of safety was bursting. After barely a few hours together, Jenna Owens was making him think things he hadn’t thought in a long while.
He picked his towel up from where it sat pooled at his feet and laughed again. Then he grabbed his own stack of clothes from the bed and slid into a long-sleeved green Henley and a pair of jeans. He wondered if the clothes were Robert’s or if Jonathan had left some stuff behind. The fit wasn’t bad—the shirt a bit snug over his arms and the jeans a bit loose so they hung a little lower on his hips—but it still felt odd to be in a stranger’s clothes, in a stranger’s house, on a day that continued to prove pretty damned strange.
He pushed up his sleeves and shook his wet hair out like a dog before finger-combing it into what he hoped was some sort of presentable look, then he flopped down onto the bed, crossing one ankle over the other while he rested his damp head in his hands.
He could do this, a house on a nice piece of land. He’d never thought of farming as a livelihood, but sustainable living was high on his list—along with a house filled with kids and someone to share it all with. It wouldn’t have to be far from the ranch. Sam and Delaney were doing it, and there were plenty of plots in Meadow Valley that were untouched.
He was still daydreaming when he heard the bathroom door click open and Jenna clearing her throat.
“Do we need to talk about sleeping arrangements?” she asked. “Because we’re stuck here until tomorrow, aren’t we?”
He nodded, his eyes closed and legs still outstretched. Now that he’d settled in after the flat tire, the mud, the shower, and his inadvertent striptease, his adrenaline gave way to exhaustion. He’d be fine if he didn’t move another muscle until dawn.
“We sure are,” he said groggily.
He and Willow had stayed up most of the night talking, catching up, because who knew when their paths would cross again? And he was always good at surviving on little sleep, but something about today—the adrenaline of making it off the road and out of the storm safely—suddenly hit him like a brick wall.
“Hey, birthday suit,” she said softly, and he felt the side of the bed slightly dip.
He laughed and cracked an eye open to see her in some sort of flowy, floral top and her own pair of jeans, her wet blond hair tucked behind her ear.
She sure was a sight, one that made him force the other eye open to better appreciate the view.
“Guess what you claimed you couldn’t see left an impression, huh?” he said with a grin.
She backhanded him softly on the shoulder. “Be serious for a second, will you?”
He furrowed his brows and forced his smile into a frown.
Jenna groaned. “I just wanted to say thank you. For getting us off the road, for going back out into that monster of a storm to get Lucy.”
He raised his brows. “And here I thought me plastered head-to-toe in mud was strictly for your amusement.”
She laughed. “It was pretty entertaining. But it was also real sweet of you to do all that, especially the Lucy thing.”
“Would have been nice if that psychic chicken of yours could have predicted the storm,” he said.
She gave his shoulder another playful tap. “How about you just say you’re welcome when someone offers their gratitude?”
He sighed. It wasn’t as if the guests at the ranch were anything less than cordial to him when he led them on a trail or organized a bonfire. He heard thank you all the time. But the doing for those folks, that was his job. And their thanking was all part of the ranch owner / guest arrangement. Her gratitude felt different. Then again, he wasn’t usually attracted to the ranch guests like he was to Jenna Owens. Even if he was, Colt preferred to keep things professional between himself and paying customers. Although Jenna hadn’t exactly paid for the trip herself…
Nope. He was so close to a much-needed nap. This was not the time to start thinking about other things he could do for her—to her?—to warrant her thanking him again.
“You’re welcome, Texas,” he said.
“How’d you know?” she asked, eyes wide.
“I’m psychic too,” he teased, then added, “Plus, we had a family from Dallas a couple of weeks ago. They sounded a lot like you but not quite as sexy.” He sat up on his elbows. “Not that I meant—I wasn’t saying you were—” he stammered.
So much for keeping it professional.
Colt Morgan wasn’t a stammerer. He was a tell-it-like-it-is-er. So that was what he did. “Aw hell,” he said. “Your accent’s sexy, Jenna Owens. Denying it would be like denying the earth is round or that gravity is what keeps us from flying off into space.”
Her cheeks flushed pink. “Some folks do believe the earth is flat, you know.”
“The earth is round and your accent is sexy. End of story,” he said.
She pressed her lips together, and he could see the wheels turning, so he waited for whatever was coming, wondered if he’d crossed a line—but then remembered she’d recently seen him naked and had made a joke about the size of his Colt Jr. He figured the accent compliment was fairly safe.
“See, now,” she started, “I don’t know what to make of that. Or how to respond. Because while I do love that I kept some Texas with me all these years—and that a fine-looking young man like yourself finds it appealing—I…I mean you’re…” She blew out an exasperated breath.
“Charming as hell?” he asked.
She rolled her eyes.
“Devilishly handsome?” he added. “Ruggedly sexy? Chivalrous as a knight? Or maybe just so damned fun to look at naked?”
She groaned. “Thirty! You’re thirty, Colt. I’ve got an entire decade on you. When you were breastfeeding, I was trying on my first bra!”
He pulled himself up so he was sitting against the headboard now, his eyes level with hers. “I could point out how those two scenarios are related, but you’ve probably already made the connection. And how do you know I wasn’t bottle-fed?”
“I’m trying to point out a very real truth with you and all your flirting, but you’re being impossible.”
He laughed. Hard. And she crossed her arms, defiant.
“Why is that funny?” she asked, her jaw set.
He shrugged. “Because that’s exactly what I called you when I asked you to wait in the car, where it was safe, but you ran after me in the storm when there very well could have been no one home or Maggie and Robert could have turned us away.”
“Possum,” she said softly, like she’d just figured out the answer to a question he hadn’t even known was being asked.
“What?”
She waved him off. “Nothing. You were on a roll. Wouldn’t want to stop you.”
He huffed out a breath. “Jenna Owens, you’re—stubborn, and before you tell me that I’m the same, I’ll be the first to admit that I’ll dig my heels in when I think—or in this case know—I’m right. Ten years is nothing but time and space to me. It has nothing to do with whether I do or do not find you attractive, and I think we’ve already established it’s the former.”
He felt like she was testing him, and whatever the answer was, he wanted to get it right.
She stood up and smoothed out her shirt, then skimmed the tips of her fingers through her still-wet hair, making sure it was secure behind her ears.
“I’m going downstairs to check on Lucy. I’ll grab our muddy clothes from the bathroom and get to washing them too. And while I thank you for the compliment—and also admit that objectively speaking, you, Colt Morgan, are very attractive, both clothed and not so clothed—I think it’s important to make clear that I don’t date younger men. So while this flirting or whatever might be fun for you, it can’t go further than that.”
She turned on her heel and headed toward the bathroom.
“Jenna, wait,” he said, sliding off the bed so he was standing now too.
She paused but didn’t turn aro
und.
There was something between them—the kiss, the banter, the flirting. He wasn’t sure what he expected from it, especially with her at the ranch for only two weeks. He’d completely gone against his own principles of keeping things professional with ranch patrons, and where had it gotten him? He’d muddied things between them even more than the storm had.
“I’m sorry,” he said. “I misread you.” He sighed. “I overstepped. It won’t happen again.”
“Thank you,” she said coolly. And then she was gone.
Colt was way off his game. Maybe having been in relationship hibernation for the past few years had dulled his instincts. Because he could have sworn there was something between them, some sort of connection. Not that he was looking for one, especially with a woman who lived seven hours away and clearly wanted nothing more to do with him. Getting his heart stomped once was plenty for one lifetime. Ever since he and Emma split, he swore that was it. No more relationships until he was sure the woman he wanted to be with wanted not only him but the same future he wanted too.
He wanted kids. A whole brood of them who wouldn’t know the foster system like he did, who wouldn’t have to spend years wondering if a sibling would remember them once they made contact again.
It wasn’t until he’d proposed that Emma had let the bomb drop. She didn’t want children. As much as it had hurt, he respected her choice. His heart would have recovered in time. Except that she was now married with twins and a third on the way.
She hadn’t wanted a family with him.
And here he was in his head, a place he tried to avoid as much as possible.
His stomach growled.
Yes. It all made sense now. He’d planned on snacking on a cookie or two on the drive to the ranch. He’d also planned on him and Jenna stopping for lunch to break up the ride, but the storm had done so instead.
Maybe his instincts hadn’t gone to shit after all. Maybe if Maggie and Robert were kind enough to feed a couple of strangers, he’d get this whole Jenna attraction thing sorted and make sure he didn’t say or do anything else that might cross the ranch owner / ranch guest line.