Explosive Memories

by Sherri Thomas

  “Sorry.” She slowed and continued along the gravel to the main house.

  “So, are you going to tell me what happened with Ed-the-Magnificent?”

  “Can we discuss him after I’ve sampled a healthy dose of caff—” Swept away by the picture perfect scenery ahead, Jordan stopped in the middle of the drive. “Wow.”

  The three story, log bed and breakfast resembled a vacationing ski lodge. Glass panes lined the first floor and extended close to the roof on the far end of the inn. Pine trees and mature oaks surrounded one side of the structure with a wooden porch that wrapped around the opposite end from front to back.

  “It’s gorgeous. I couldn’t make much out last night, but…wow.” She blinked, trying to take in the whole view.

  “I had the same reaction. Park this thing, and I’ll show you inside.”

  Swinging the truck to the gravel area on the right, she killed the engine, fisted the keys in her palm, and exited the automobile.

  A golden dog ran up, barking and wagging its tail.

  “Hi, boy.” Darcy scratched the animal’s fur. “This is Dakota, Nick’s dog.”

  Not giving the canine a chance to jump or drool on her, Jordan patted him on the head and sidestepped. She didn’t dislike the creature, but the dress cost too much to have ruined by a mud stain or slobber.

  A loud whistle split the air, and the animal trotted off in a hurry.

  “The guys must be going out on the trails. Dakota likes to lead. According to Nick, he helps desensitize the horses to spooking when the guests go on a guided ride. Honestly, I think the dog just keeps all the other critters away. In turn, there are none to jump out and scare them.”

  “Everything serves a purpose on a ranch.” She recalled the cowboy’s words when she’d been curled up on his chest listening to him talk about the animals on his farm. Standing real still, she could almost feel the rumble of his chest on her ear as he spoke in that deep, quiet tone.

  A hand touched her arm.

  “Hey, you okay? You got a far away look on your face.”

  Giving herself a mental shake, Jordan nodded. “Sorry, I’m fine. Probably a bit of jet lag.”

  Wrapping her fingers around the sturdiness of the railing, she followed her friend up the wooden steps to the wraparound deck and entered into a large, pale yellow kitchen. The spacious room sported two large, stainless steel refrigerators, a huge stove, and a round, wooden table in the corner. A robust woman stood at the sink, scowling in their direction.

  “Ms. Liz, this is Jordan. Ms. Liz is the ranch cook and makes the best coffee and chocolate mousse cake.”

  Jordan held out a hand to the square-shouldered lady. “Hello.”

  “Humph. Might want to get in here earlier if you want a decent breakfast,” the cook growled, walking away.

  “Her bark’s worse than her bite.” Darcy grabbed two cups from the counter, filling them with caffeine. “Don’t take it personal. Took me six months to get her to even say good morning.” She held out a mug. “There’s sugar and creamer by the canisters, or if you want flavored, I believe there’s several different kinds in the fridge.”

  “This is fine.” Jordan used one spoon to scoop the sweetener and non-dairy product into her cup and another to stir. “Has anyone suggested Ms. Liz loosen the bun on top of her head?” she whispered. Setting the utensils on a napkin, she sipped the brown liquid. The flavor flooded her mouth and awakened her taste buds.

  “My thought exactly.”

  As Darcy laughed, Jordan regarded the future Mrs. Nick Matthews with a bit of envy. “This place has been good for you. You really are happy, aren’t you?”

  “Nick has been good for me. This place was a bonus.” She ambled over to the old, round table in the corner. “I’m even working part time at White’s Law Firm in town.”

  “That’s great. I’m glad you found this ranch, and each other.” Jordan sat on the wooden chair. Hearing her mother’s speech to her about sitting like a lady, she straightened her spine and crossed one leg over the other.

  “Okay, spill. What happened with Mr. Wonderful? You were very vague over the phone and never spoke of any problems.”

  She sighed, wondering where to begin. Deciding on the quick version, she admitted, “Ed only needed me to support him financially while he chased his pipe dream of becoming a country western singer, and everything in a skirt.” Finding it improper to discuss the dirty details of her relationship, she stopped short of revealing the knockdown, drag out arguments concerning the lack of sex. The man couldn’t understand why, after months together, she refused to sleep with him—a detail he envied at one time saying she was truly a lady, and the fact she wanted to wait made her even more attractive…until the clock ran out anyway, and he found other willing females.

  “That asshole. After everything you gave up for him.”

  “I truly think he loved me in his own way. He was always full of compliments.”

  Ed continuously told her how he loved the fact she always used manners in everything she did, how she never put her elbows on the table or burped or slouched, always ladylike. He often said he loved her outfits and how neat and tidy she kept the apartment. So, she worked every available minute of overtime to help pay their mounting bills, only to hear him say “someday” he’d hit it big, and she could quit her job. Not that she would have. She needed something to do while he spent hours playing in the honky tonks. And he definitely had been “playing,” according to the countless women who called looking for him every night.

  “Oh, honey, I’m sorry.” Darcy reached out and touched her arm. “But I am glad you’re back. I hated that you quit your job and moved away. It was like you were at his mercy.”

  She waved in a dismissive gesture. “I’m over it. Over him. There was something missing.”

  “Don’t ever settle for anything less. Real love does exist. Take me for example. Never in a million years did I think when I applied for a job on this ranch I’d find my soul mate.”

  But when your heart isn’t yours to give, when the past absorbs every cell of your being, and you have to fight each second of the day to stay in charge of the emotions…

  “I think I’ll concentrate on me for a while. Anyway, I couldn’t run right back here. Dr. Sheffield helped me get the job in Nashville, and I owed it to him to stick it out. But Tennessee wasn’t for me. I missed home.” What part she couldn’t be sure. Amarillo offered her nothing, except Darcy and the doctor. Yet, a feeling of belonging enveloped her.

  The back door creaked, and a stocky man with an easy smile entered.

  “Morning, Sam,” Darcy addressed the cowboy.

  “Mornin’.” He hung his tan hat on the rack and strode over to the coffee pot.

  Dark hair, dark eyes, the same shaped face. Jordan’s heart rate sped up. Why did every male she came across today resemble him. This man was broader, thicker in the chest, and also lacked the scar, but the resemblance to her cowboy of years ago was uncanny.

  “Sam, this is Jordan.” She turned to her. “This is one of Nick’s brothers.”

  Chocolate eyes crinkled at the corners as he stepped closer and extended a beefy hand. “The oh so famous Jordan.” He bowed, smiling. “You’ll certainly improve the scenery around here.”

  “Sam, behave.”

  “I mean besides you, Ms. Smarty Pants.”

  His large fingers engulfed her own. “Hello.”

  Having seen the two brothers, edginess filled her. Was it possible for a person to have more than one look-a-like out in the world?

  “Nice grip.” He chuckled, released her hand, and crossed to the counter. “She could give some of the guys around here a lesson in proper handshakes.”

  “How many brothers did you say Nick has?” Jordan whispered, fearing the answer to come.

  “Three.”

  “What are their names?” Telling herself it didn’t matter, she lifted the coffee cup to her lips. Even if the cowboy turned out to be a Matthews, it wouldn’t c
hange her course of action. She had no time for the past.

  “I can’t believe I never told you.”

  “You’ve talked about them, but always referred to them as Nick’s brothers.”

  “Well.” Darcy frowned. “There’s Sam, here.”

  The cowboy turned around at the mention of his name and grinned.

  “Chris and Trent.”

  Trent. Oh, God. Jordan set the mug down heavier than intended, and the contents sloshed onto her hand. What were the chances? And if it was him, would he even recognize her? Perhaps he forgot about her, about that night.

  Lucky him. For her, those twelve hours started a spiraling downhill fall. The beginning of many punishments for bad behavior.

  From her peripheral vision, she glimpsed the bride-to-be’s lips turn into a smug smile.

  “They’re all very, very handsome and very single. Aren’t you Sam?” She winked in his direction.

  “Don’t go trying to pair us off Darc.”

  “Me?” She laughed.

  If she only knew. But few people did. Jordan stole a glance in the cowboy’s direction, then back at her friend. “And you know I’m coming out of a terrible relationship.”

  The brunette sipped her coffee, and with a wink, faced her future brother-in-law. “What are you up to today?”

  “Trent and I are headed to town for roofing supplies, then we need to stop by the vet’s office. He thinks Sierra might give birth soon and wants to be prepared.”

  Jordan’s stomach somersaulted at the use of her cowboy’s name. As much as she longed for the man in her dreams at night, the daytime was another story. She did not need another confrontation from her past. Not now.

  “Sierra’s one of the mares Trent bred with his prize stallion,” Darcy explained, oblivious to her distress.

  “Need anything while we’re out?” Sam leaned a hip on the counter.

  “No, but thanks for asking.”

  “Anytime. I thought he’d beat me here.” Glancing out the window, he straightened. “Ah, there he is.”

  Alarm bells sounded in Jordan’s head. She wasn’t ready to face that past. Would he remember? Doubtful. He’d been a twenty-one year old boy with raging hormones six years ago. She, a notch on his belt buckle he probably forgot. But having dealt with the repercussions of their encounter repeatedly throughout her life, she never would forget.

  “I should be going. I don’t want to be late for my meeting, and I have a few places to stop beforehand.” Hurrying toward the door, she gave Sam a quick nod. “Nice meeting you.”

  “I’m working at the law office this afternoon, but make sure you text me what happens.” Her friend crossed the kitchen floor and gave her a hug.

  “I will.” Jordan spun on her heels and rushed out…only to collide with a very solid chest.

  Chapter Two

  A familiar spicy, sweaty, male scent invaded Jordan’s senses, and she bit back a moan. The years melted away as she struggled for control. No matter how hard she tried, she failed to erase the memory of his touch, the way he’d held her like a precious gift.

  Ha. Some gift she turned out to be.

  Large hands encompassed her upper arms. “Easy, sweetheart,” came the deep, southern drawl.

  Two words and goose pimples rose on her skin, and a moment of panic filled her.

  Forcing her sights up the six feet plus inches of testosterone to the small scar on his chin to creamy brown eyes, she commanded her brain to focus. “I-I’m sorry.”

  “No harm.” Chocolate orbs narrowed beneath the black cowboy hat, recognition settling on his face as one side of his mouth lifted. “Don’t I know you?”

  The crooked smile caused a tightness in her chest, and she jerked away. “I’m late.”

  Sprinting to her truck, Jordan held her breath until she was locked safe and sound inside. With shaking fingers, she inserted the key and turned the ignition three times before the engine rumbled to life. Glancing in the rearview mirror, she inhaled several gulps of air. The cowboy stood on the porch staring in her direction.

  Her stomach plummeted. Her skin tingled. Even from a distance, he affected her.

  Best course of action—avoid the sinfully tempting male.

  Throwing the gears into reverse, she backed out of the parking area and then drove hell for leather away from the ranch, away from the past, and all the unwanted memories.

  ****

  Trent stared in the direction of the raven-haired woman’s taillights. He’d recognize Lynn anywhere, the sway of those tempting hips, the electrifying affect of those blue eyes, those luscious lips.

  What was she doing here? And why’d she bolt? Hurrying off without as much as a hello?

  Maybe the mystery woman wasn’t her. It had been quite a few years since he’d seen her; the breasts looked larger, the hair longer. But she felt…like his Lynn.

  Maybe the medication caused the hallucination.

  He cursed. Most days, he avoided the tablets, but stacking hay and falling asleep in the barn yesterday left him little choice. The searing heat in his shoulder burned as if someone branded his skin with an iron.

  Shaking off the illusions, he entered the kitchen.

  “What took you so long?” Sam asked, setting a cup in the sink.

  Ah, the finer points of his day…answering to his family. “Finishing up a few things,” he growled, then nodded in acknowledgement to Darcy as she passed in front of him and exited the room.

  Crossing to the table, Trent yanked out a chair and winced as pain ricocheted down his arm. Stars danced behind his lids. The majority of the time, the injury didn’t give him much trouble, but this week bore an unusual amount of work with the over abundance of guests vacationing at his family’s dude ranch, and chore after chore needing done. He lowered himself onto the wooden seat.

  “Trent, we don’t have time for you to get comfortable. We were supposed to be on our way to town an hour ago.” A scowl formed on his sibling’s face.

  “Give me a minute.” Resting his head in his hands, he inhaled. Why was everyone always in such a hurry?

  Boots scuffed on the floor. A heavy hand landed on his good shoulder.

  “You okay?” Concern filled Sam’s voice.

  Damn, he hated when they worried over him. “I’m fine. Just off my mark today.” He met his older brother’s stare.

  “Shoulder giving you problems?” Sam shook his head. “I told you, you were doing too much.”

  “No.” Every day he pressed forward, repeating the steps. The morning meetings at the main house with the rest of the Matthews clan, caring for the animals, taking care of the guests—if any. He ate his meals, fixed fences, showered, swallowed pain medicine if required, and fell into bed exhausted. Just to get up and start over the following day—not feeling anything but physical pain. The struggles with his limb a steady reminder of his past. Two years later and April still haunted him. The night she shot him embedded in his mind forever.

  Dating off and on during high school, he knew her better than anyone. Or so he thought. She’d hid the dark side from him well. Friends told him stories, but he refused to believe them until the mood swings.

  Fury washed over him. He spent too much time kicking himself for not seeing her sickness. Too many nights lying awake listening to the sounds, waiting for something to happen.

  Trent tightened his jaw and challenged his elder’s glare.

  “That’s why you took meds, right? Don’t bother denying it. I can tell by the glassiness of your eyes.”

  He stood. “Let’s go so we can get back and get things done.”

  “What the hell were you thinking?” Sam rubbed his jaw while scrutinizing him. “You can’t work under the influence of muscle-relaxers. Stay here. I’ll go to town myself.”

  “No.” Damn it, he was capable of taking care of himself. For too many months, his family coddled him. Not anymore. Two years was long enough.

  His brothers had even gone as far as buying him a flat screen te
levision and leather recliner after his first surgery. The gifts were intended to keep him entertained while he healed, but much to his family’s displeasure, and the doctor’s, the presents failed to keep him immobile for long. He refused to plant his ass in the soft rawhide and let everyone else do the work around the ranch.

  According to Dr. Ryhe, his non-compliance was what led to the second and third surgeries. The last one three short months ago. His continual refusal to rest caused the ligaments to tear and the damn thing to dislocate on a regular basis, but he couldn’t stop, work was the only thing that kept him going.

  “I’m off to Attorney White’s.” Darcy entered and stopped, glancing from one brother to another. “What’s wrong? Something happen?”

  “Just Trent being Mr. Hardhead as usual.”

  His future sister-in-law frowned and crossed the room until she stood in his direct vision. “Is it your shoulder again?”

  Great, now she was going to go all motherly. “I’m fine,” he said through gritted teeth.

  “Too bad Jordan hurried out of here. She could’ve helped.” Her gaze traveled to Sam.

  Trent snarled at the two of them. “Who the hell is Jordan? And what does he have to do with anything?”

  “She is my friend, remember? The one who’s staying with us for a while. You passed her on the way in. Black hair, yellow sundress?”

  The description fit the woman he ran into. The meds really were screwing with his head. “What’s so all fire great about her?” he asked, his tone sharper than intended.

  “She’s an RN.”

  Wonderful. “And?”

  “Give up, Darcy. Mr. Hardhead isn’t going to let anyone help him. He can do everything himself.” Sam jammed his hat in place. “I have to go.” The door slammed shut behind him.

  Hurrying to catch up, Trent grabbed his Stetson and followed to the red F350.

  “You aren’t working on the ranch today and that’s final,” his brother informed him when he climbed inside the cab.

  “Jesus. Would you give it a rest already? I didn’t take a full dose.”

  Mr. Boss-man swung the vehicle out onto the main road. “Don’t matter.”