He and Jamie had traversed these woods on horseback together many times, but he still knew the trails better than she did. He knew where she liked to go when she was brooding.
And she was definitely brooding about Haylee closing down the training center rather than letting Jamie take over. But that was Jamie, always reaching for more, always pushing the envelope, never satisfied with the status quo.
That was the real reason this crush of hers had to be stopped before she learned the truth about him. She’d accept him, baggage and all, and that weight, which he’d grown used to, would wear too heavily on her. Seeing someone as bright and full of life as Jamie stagger because of him would be the straw that broke him.
Better to hurt her a little now than to destroy her later. The crash of hooves ahead gave him just enough warning to knee Rosie off the trail before Nash came belting toward them, riderless, his eyes rolling white.
Rosie skittered sideways, neighing loudly to her pal, catching his contagious fright immediately. His heart in his throat, Gideon managed to snag the flying reins, nearly getting yanked from the mare’s back in the process.
“Whoa, Nash, buddy, easy.” He slid off Rosie and collected the panicked horse.
What had happened? Where was Jamie?
The horse reared and stomped, but finally calmed. Gideon climbed back into the saddle and, Nash’s reins firmly in one fist, Rosie’s in the other, started back along the path, trying not to picture Jamie lying somewhere deep in the forest, broken, bleeding.
Alone.
He could barely breathe for dread.
Oh God, let her be okay. Please, let her be okay.
* * *
Definitely not a hot spring.
Jamie kicked to the surface, gasping to draw breath into a chest locked down by muscles refusing to cooperate. She shook the frigid water from her eyes and kicked in a circle. She couldn’t catch her breath. Her brain was frozen.
She could hear the horse, whinnying wildly, as he ran down the path away from her. Something or someone was out there and whatever or whoever it was, the horse didn’t like it. Nor did the Labrador. She was barking like a maniac somewhere above her, beyond the pool, the sounds growing fainter as she moved farther away.
“Puh-puh-puppy? Where are thou, buh-buh-brat?” She spun around, treading water, her teeth chattering, and looked up. The pup was on the ledge again, blinking at her through the mossy curtain, his pinky-brown nose twitching with pleasure. She now saw that what had appeared from above to be a ledge with no way off was, in fact, easily accessible by land and water via a hidden sloped area.
“You . . . dirty . . . liar . . .” she gasped.
The pup wiggled in delight, then whined and scratched at something on the ground.
Jamie swam over, lifted herself onto the glistening surface and immediately saw the problem.
She reached into a crevice between the rocks, pulled out a muddy, well-loved, vaguely phallic rubber toy. She examined it. “This, my friend, is nuh-not PG rated.”
The older dog reappeared, suddenly, her muzzle flecked with froth, panting hard. She bent to the pool and drank noisily. The pup howled in excitement, caught between the thrill of his friend’s return and the anticipation of regaining his toy.
“Yeah?” Jamie held it out. “This is what’s got you all frazzled?”
He nearly fell into the water again in his hurry to snatch it from her hand. The older dog, her thirst quenched, barked sharply. The wet pup scrambled into the underbrush, then reappeared moments later beside the larger dog, covered in leaf litter and debris but whole, happy, and extremely pleased with himself.
Chapter Three
Choose your best underwear today.
—Jamie’s horoscope
Crashing and yelling came at her from all sides, it seemed, the sound being bounced and swallowed at once by the forest. Jamie shrieked and threw herself at the bank but was unable to get purchase on the slippery edge.
“I’ve got a gun, and I’m not afraid to use it,” she yelled.
The Labrador barked and the pup joined in, yipping and bouncing. Sunlight pierced the towering overhead limbs. Shadows flickered, and massive, claw-like branches grasped from the depths, but still, she saw no one.
Then the voice came again, more clearly.
“Jamie! Where are you?”
She stopped struggling and clung to a mossy branch. “Gideon?”
He appeared beneath a needle-laden limb, on Rosie, with Nash behind, holding tight to the agitated horse’s reins.
“What are you doing here?”
“Following you.” He pulled Rosie up sharply when he saw her in the water, his eyes stark against the white of his face, his temples tight, his lips a thin slash above his chin. “Are you swimming?”
Incredulity sharpened his voice.
“Why, of course I am, Gideon. Ice water is so refreshing. Being half-dressed makes it special. You should try it.” She flung herself up again and lay there like a drunken sea lion, horribly aware that her laundry-day underwear was creeping into forbidden territory.
“Would you like a hand?” He dismounted and came closer, extending his arm.
“Oh, I’m fine.” She’d told him she wanted to be alone, and here he was, making her not alone. Maybe she’d haul him in. A dunking would cool him off.
Though a tiny part of her was humming. He’d come after her.
He gripped her by her upper arms and easily pulled her from the water.
She half-crouched, pulling the empty pant leg against her naked thigh, then took a step backward and nearly fell back in again. “What are you doing out here anyway?” Her voice was shaking with cold.
“Rangers called about a nuisance bear in the area. Wasn’t sure you’d heard. Daphne sent me out. She was worried.”
The humming stopped. The flood of adrenaline, not to mention the icy pool, made her limbs wobbly. “Thanks-no-thanks for the knight-in-shining-armor scenario. We were making plenty of noise. I’m sure he’s long gone by now.”
He cocked an eyebrow. “Sorry-not-sorry for caring that you’re an hour overdue.”
“An hour?” With much yanking and pulling, the wet denim skidded up over her butt.
“Yes. Come on. Let’s go.”
“Sorry, I’m actually handling a rescue myself.”
The corner of his mouth twitched. “Really. How’s that going?”
She tipped her chin at the dogs, the older dog hovering watchfully at the periphery, the pup romping with his toy, oblivious to Gideon’s arrival.
“The old dog led me here, where the pup was trapped. Or so I thought. The little one’s fine. But something’s wrong with the old one. Look at her leg. And she’s way too thin. I need to get them back to the ranch. You can help, since you’re here.”
Gideon’s eyes widened. “Get them back? Jamie, someone’s probably looking for them right now. There’s a bear wandering the area and Daphne’s waiting for you. Forget about the dogs. They’ll find their way home.”
Suddenly, like before, the chocolate Labrador whipped her head up. Without barking, she bolted as fast as her damaged leg could take her back into the underbrush, past her, past Gideon and the horses, and was swallowed up by the forest.
“See?” Gideon held Nash’s reins out toward her. “Come on. Let’s go.”
“Wait.” Wet skin and tight jeans were not a great combination.
The puppy had started after the old dog, but his shorter legs couldn’t find purchase on the sloped path. He sat back hard on his rump, whining.
Jamie pulled her jacket on and crossed her arms over her chest. “I’m not leaving the puppy out here alone.”
“Fine. There’s a place up the ridge. That’s probably where they belong. Follow me.”
“I can find it myself, Gideon. I don’t need an escort.”
He was trying to be nice. But having him swoop in to fix her mistakes wasn’t the way to reset their relationship.
“Come on, James. Don’t be di
fficult.”
“Don’t call me James!”
“Sorry.” Gideon paused, and for the first time, she saw the tightness around his mouth. “When I found your horse, I thought . . . I thought . . . damn, girl.” Gideon swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing his throat.
He looked away. Why was he being so stupid-ass stubborn about insisting that they were just friends, that it couldn’t be anything more, when she knew he cared about her?
She glanced down at herself. Through the opening in her denim jacket, the thin fabric of her white T-shirt stuck to her torso, her nipples clearly visible through her sports bra, her navel winking above the low rider waistband of her jeans.
When she lifted her eyes, his head was still turned, but the color in his cheeks told her he’d seen the same thing she’d seen. Overhead, a woodpecker drilled for insects, the rapid-fire sound filling the tense silence between them.
“We should go.”
She put her hands on her hips and cocked her head. “Oh yeah? Should we?”
“Jamie.” A pained look came over his face. “Enough. You’re cold and wet. You need to get back.”
She took a step toward him, came close enough that she could feel the heat coming off his body. “Cold and wet sucks. But warm and wet . . .”
He looked back at her, his eyes wider by a sliver, his lips parted so that she could see the edge of his teeth, the tip of his tongue. Then his nostrils flared slightly and he averted his gaze again. “Jamie. Knock it off.”
Stung, she plunked herself down on a moss-covered log and began hauling her boots on, hoping he couldn’t see the heat she felt in her cheeks. “Come on. I’m kidding. Geez, where’s your sense of humor?”
Gideon squatted beside her. “Let me help.”
“How?” She stomped her foot on the ground, which didn’t get her further into the boot, and almost turned her ankle. “Can you make my feet smaller?”
She didn’t want his help. She wanted something . . . else. She wanted him to put his arms around her and pull her tight to his body. She wanted to feel his hand on her bare skin and run her palm over the wide muscles of his back.
Instead, he knelt before her and grabbed either side of the boot. “Stand up, hold my shoulders, and push in while I hold.”
He kept his head down, his face averted, like a gentleman.
She wanted to break that smooth facade, make him feel something. For her.
She pushed, bracing herself on his broad shoulders until with a squeak of damp leather, her foot popped in.
“Good. Again.” Without lifting his head, Gideon positioned the other boot. But this one proved more stubborn.
“Push harder,” he said.
“I am.” His shoulders were warm and solid beneath her fingers and she allowed herself to squeeze them, just a little. Oh. A woman could count on shoulders like that.
“Quit groping me, James. We’re losing light.”
She softened her grip. “Grope your tough old hide? Don’t flatter yourself.”
He laughed at that, and the awkwardness lifted. “If you say so.”
She bent her knees to jam her foot harder, and that brought her face near the top of his head. She inhaled. Oh to the max. He smelled of fresh air and woodsy-scented shampoo, something that made her think of dark nights on the beach.
She could kiss him. She could kiss him right now, force him to see what was standing right in front of him, literally.
Should she?
Through a break in the trees, she caught a glimpse of a pale moon rising against the blue sky. A sign?
She lowered her head a bit more and breathed him in. She wanted to kiss him. But that didn’t mean it was the right thing to do. She was trying to be more responsible, more mature. To think before acting.
She imagined brushing her knuckle against his cheek, feeling the exciting roughness of his stubble as she trailed her way to his ear.
She imagined him grabbing her arms, yanking her to his chest, and pressing his lips against hers, kissing her, hard and deep and hot, stealing her breath, stealing her thoughts, drowning her in the taste of those full, mobile lips—
“Jamie,” Gideon said. “Push.”
He gave a firm tug on the boot, and her foot slipped in with a thump that knocked her off balance and sent her tumbling forward.
“Whoa there,” Gideon said, straightening.
The top of his head connected with her nose, ending her fantasy in a blinding explosion of pain.
* * *
“Holy shit fuck!”
Jamie fell back, landing on her butt hard enough that Gideon could hear her teeth clack together.
“God, Jamie, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”
Bloody tears seeped around the fingers she held clamped to her lower face. He yanked a handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to her mouth, cupping the back of her head with his palm.
The skin at her neck was like silk. He’d heard her breathing above him a moment ago, and now it was his turn. She had a hand on his leg and her touch sent electricity singing deep inside him.
This was bad. He should step away. He wasn’t being fair to her.
“Mmmmph!” She pushed him away. “You’re smothering me!”
“Jamie. You’re crying.” He held his hands out, helpless, frozen and horrified.
She did not cry.
“These aren’t real tears,” she snapped. “Just, you know. Nose tears.”
“Nose tears.”
The puppy leaped up between them.
“Ow!” Jamie yelled as his small claw left marks on her belly.
That smooth stretch of tanned midriff had been nearly pressed against his cheek a moment ago. Warm and wet . . .
He took hold of the dog’s scruff and gave him a light shake.
“Settle down pup,” he said. “You’ve done enough damage for one day.”
“Easy,” Jamie protested. “He’s just a baby.”
“A baby with no manners.” The pup whined, then licked his arm. He wore a good leather collar with a single tag that had the word CHAOS inscribed on it. Not a rabies tag. Not a municipal license.
“Chaos, huh?” he said to the dog. “Sounds about right.”
“Un-fricking-believable.” Jamie lifted the fabric away from her nose and examined it. “Wow. You really got me.”
“I said I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She started to giggle, a slightly panicked sound that said it could go back to tears at any moment. “But some days, you just have to laugh.” A bloody snot bubble popped from her left nostril and the giggle turned to a guffaw. She pinched the bridge of her nose between thumb and forefinger, unable to stop laughing. “I go out to the woods,” she said, gasping for air, “looking for serenity. What do I find? Chaos. Literally.”
She tipped her head back, wheezing, the laughter finally wearing down. To his relief, the tears were also gone.
“I’ve taken worse. I’m fine, Gideon. You can go. Tell Daphne I’ll do all the cleanup when I get in.”
But something about her was still off. “You sure you’re okay?”
Something in his voice made her turn her head. “What?”
He cleared his throat, uncomfortable. “It’s just . . . you know . . . I don’t want things to be awkward. Between us.”
She jerked her head in a stuttering gesture that was likely meant to mock the very idea, but instead screamed of vulnerability. “Pfft. You seem to think pretty highly of yourself.”
He touched her shoulder. “James.”
He saw the breath catch in her throat, saw the words get trapped inside, saw them struggle fruitlessly to escape.
“It’s not that I don’t care about you,” he said, regretting the sentence the moment it left his lips.
She lurched to her feet, waving her hands in front of her ears, as if she could stop herself from hearing them.
But he had to say something. He had to address it. He owed her that much. So he pressed on, deeply miserable but dete
rmined.
“It’s just that . . .” He exhaled, then tried again. “It wouldn’t work between us, Jamie. There’s the age difference, and my past. . . .”
She whirled around then. “You think I care about any of that? So you’ve got a few years on me—”
“Eight years.”
“Who cares? And I know you’re an ex-con. So what? We all have skeletons in the closet. It doesn’t matter!”
“Maybe it should.”
“Why? Did you kill someone?”
“No!” He pulled back, shocked.
“Of course not. You wouldn’t be here if you had. So, what were you in for, then?”
The old shame flooded over him. He didn’t like to talk about it and had successfully avoided it for a long time. People at the ranch respected each other’s boundaries. If you asked about someone’s story, you had to be ready to tell your own. So they didn’t ask.
Until now.
“It was,” he began, scratching the back of his neck, “a mistake. A horrible mistake.”
She stood in front of him, her eyebrows raised, waiting.
He swallowed; it was never easy saying the words. “They called it,” he said, finally, “vehicular assault. Someone was hurt. It was . . . horrible.”
The prosecution, seeing a wealthy young man with a hot car, had decided to make an example of him, and Gideon hadn’t fought it. He’d deserved every minute of his sentence, no question.
He was still walking, after all. Unlike the woman he’d hit.
“I’m so sorry, Gideon.” Jamie reached for his hand, tugged him closer. “But that doesn’t change the way I feel about you. We clicked, from the moment we met, but something’s different now. We could be more, don’t you feel it? I know I’m no Kardashian, but I’ve seen you checking me out. We could have something together. Don’t you want that?”
Everything inside him ached to say yes. Because he did. But it was partly because of his feelings for her that he had to say no.
“It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head. “I’m not good for you, Jamie. Trust me. I’m just . . . not.”
For a moment, the word hung in the air, like an echo. Then Jamie stepped back, dabbing gently at her nose.
Driftwood Creek Page 3