by Tessa Bowen
“I’m sure he didn’t know she was your lady, Jeb,” one of the friends explained.
“When he comes to, tell him he’s a bit too handsy for my liken’.”
Lorelai was rooted to the spot. Never in her life had she witnessed such a thing. She’d instigated an actual bar fight—well, not so much a fight. Jeb had been precise with his punishment. She felt as though she was in the wild west.
He glowered at her as she blinked stupidly.
“We’re leaving,” he told her.
She had to run to keep up with him until they made it back to the truck parked on a private street.
“You clocked that guy, Jeb—he’s out cold!”
It was then she noticed he was shaking out his hand.
“Oh no! Your hand—you used the bad one!”
She went for his hand, to soothe away the hurt, but he pulled it away with a snarl.
“Of course I used my bad hand. I’m right-handed. What the hell were you doing in there, Lorelai—Jesus Christ!”
Her body still trembled with the thrill of what had just happened, as wrong as that was. The fact that he’d lost his temper shouldn’t arouse her so, but it did. It meant he was as affected by her as she was by him. Or perhaps he was simply defending her honor. Wasn’t that standard operating procedure for upstanding cowboys?
“I told you I wanted to dance.”
“You should have danced with me,” he growled.
“You were otherwise occupied,” she snapped back.
He shook his head in bewilderment and then lowered his face into his palms. “You’re going to cause me a world of hurt.”
“I’ll be gone tomorrow.” She continued in a more even tone. “I’m sorry your hand is hurt.”
This time he allowed her to touch him. Gently, she pulled his hands away from his face.
“Will it be all right?”
“I just need to ice it. It will be fine.”
“That was all…rather…well…exciting.”
“Is this all just some novelty act to you?” he spit, his anger renewed. “You haven’t changed since the first time we met. You’re still that bubble-headed girl with her pack of sorority sisters, come to see the show—a bronc-riding rube of a cowboy. This time I’m not riding broncs, better yet, I’m brawling in bars for your amusement. You shouldn’t get so excited. I’m all washed-up. Maybe it would have been exciting then, but it isn’t now.”
“You’re not washed-up,” Lorelai said passionately. “If anyone is, I am—I’m a washed-up Dallas deb in a too tight skirt. You do excite me, and I can’t help it. It’s not just the brawling and your champion career. Everything about you excites me. Just being near you excites me. Even when you yell at me it excites me.”
“I haven’t yelled much, Lorelai, for all the frustration you’ve caused me. He shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. You should be treated better. And you shouldn’t have put yourself in that position with a stranger. This is Montana, not Dallas. There are a lot of rough men out there.”
“It’s the skirt,” she said, attempting a light joke. “I guess no one can get past it.”
Her joke was a flop. A muscle of tension rippled in his jaw.
“I don’t want to dress in clothes like this anymore,” she continued. “It’s not who I want to be anymore, Jeb.”
“You can dress how you please, Lorelai. It’s not the skirt that’s the problem—it’s you. You’re out of control.”
“I know—I’m tempestuous, that’s what my mother says. Being around you makes me more so…”
“Haven’t I been good to you, taken care of you while you were here? Why can’t you rest easy?”
“Because that’s the main reason you excite me—your goodness. I know you think I’m a spoiled daddy’s girl who has had everything handed to her, but I’ve never been treated so well by a man. It makes me want to be with you—makes me think I’ll go crazy if I can’t have you.”
“Stop talkin’ like that, Lorelai.”
“It’s only the truth.”
“You speak the truth too often.”
She didn’t let him get another word out. She pressed herself against his rigid body and claimed his lips, possessing them with all the pent up desire she felt. He only held back for a second before succumbing, and then they were both lost in an inferno of their own making. Lips, teeth and tongue mingled in a stormy kiss.
Jeb took control quickly, picking her up and placing her away from him. He panted as he wiped the back of his hand across his mouth.
“You’re a humdinger, you are,” he rasped, even as he fumbled with the keys, opening the truck door for her. “Get in the goddamn truck, Lorelai.”
She followed orders, sneaking a glance at him as he got behind the wheel.
“You can’t say our first kiss wasn’t amazing,” she commented boldly.
“Don’t start up!”
Lorelai’s body was on fire. She was damp between her legs. The taste of his tongue still lingered on her own.
“Don’t be angry.”
“How could I be anything but angry? You’re a fuckin’ vixen mermaid who fell from the sky or rose from the ocean or whatever the fuck just to drive me insane! And my hand hurts like holy hell!”
Lorelai chewed her lip, tremors running up and down her legs. This was the first time she’d heard him use such language. It turned out this excited her too.
“I know a way to make your hand feel better.”
“I told you...ice.”
“No, something warmer.”
She slid beside him on the bench seat and snatched his hand. This time she had much more in mind than a tender massage. She spread her legs and put his hand up her skirt. As soon as his hand cupped her fevered flesh, they both groaned. Lorelai spread her legs wider. Her skirt rode up so high, she was nearly exposed to him.
His head fell back on the seat. “You’re not wearing panties.”
“I packed lightly,” she gasped.
“You’re so wet…”
Lorelai writhed in pleasure as he stroked her. “Yes…”
“Would you have hiked your skirt up for that hick at the bar—and let him touch you like this?”
“No, only you Jeb—only you.”
His hand stiffened against her, bringing her to. Hazily, she searched his face. He was grimacing.
“Just my luck, this bum hand gives out on me when I’m makin’ love.”
“Is it still hurting you?”
“It’s just the angle…”
Lorelai was straddling him in no time, ripping at his belt and the snaps of his jeans as she kissed him hungrily. She had his pants open, could feel the hard length of him behind the thin veil of his boxer briefs. She ground against him, pressing open-mouthed kisses to the racing pulse at his throat.
“Are we going to make love, Jeb?”
“Lord save me,” he groaned, grabbing her around the hips, clutching her naked flesh in his hands, guiding her to move against him harder and faster. “You’ve been nothing but trouble. Why do I like such wild women? I think I’m the one who is cursed.”
“You make me wild because I want you so badly.”
They kissed hard again, this time so hard it bruised her lips, but she didn’t care. His hands were in her hair now, clutching fistfuls of it as he raised his pelvis to meet her gyrations.
A deep rattle of frustration ripped from his chest and Lorelai found herself pushed hard against the steering wheel. He held her there with a big hand across her chest.
“Stop—we’ve got to stop.”
She let out an equally frustrated sound. “Don’t say that.”
“I’m not having you in a truck, Lorelai.”
“Why not?”
“Because it would be screwing, not making love.”
“How many girls have you screwed in trucks, Jeb—give me a break.”
“I’m through with that. You deserve better and so do I. Maybe I want the happy ending and the princess too. Did that ever o
ccur to you?”
“You want a mermaid princess,” she told him huskily. “That’s me.”
She went for his lips again, but he turned his face away.
“Besides, you’re a little drunk, Lorelai.”
“Am not,” she argued like a petulant child. She let out a huffy sigh when he stared moodily out the window. “If you want true love, this can be true love. Whatever makes you happy, Jeb.”
That last snide comment got her tossed straight off his lap. “True love doesn’t happen that fast, sweetheart.”
Those words were like a dagger in her heart. She knew she deserved them. She’d behaved badly, yet again. This man made her crazed with want. Feeling a good deal of shame, she straightened her obscene skirt and stared down at her lap.
When they reached the ranch, he sent her upstairs like a child who had misbehaved, not before holding the door open for her one last time. His chivalry made her want to weep. She’d acted so entirely un-lady like and yet his manners were ever genteel. At that moment, Lorelai was sure Jeb Jackson was far too good for the likes of her. She was also sure he would agree with her.
She’d think of a way to make him change his mind about her, but first she’d throw her troublesome miniskirt in the trash. She never wanted to see the thing again.
BY MORNING LORELAI HAD FIGURED OUT a way to make it up to him. She’d cook breakfast for him—pay back the favor. She’d be on her best behavior. She’d scrubbed her face clean of makeup and wore her signature ponytail. She was ecstatic to find a wadded-up pale pink linen dress in the side pocket of her suitcase. She’d steamed out the wrinkles in the shower and now she looked as fresh as a virgin. Her intention was to erase last night’s behavior and an over-the-knee linen dress and a shiny face was just the way to do it. She wanted him to forget the rude and troublesome harlot she’d been. She didn’t have any shoes besides her booties, so she moved around the kitchen in her bare feet, as busy as a bee, every pan and bowl in the kitchen spread across the countertop. She was holding a rubber spatula in her hand when he suddenly appeared.
She jumped, issuing a little cry of surprise.
Lorelai knew her voice would come out shaky. She had to try her hardest to remain composed and act like nothing was amiss. Her already warm cheeks ignited with flames. He’d touched her last night, in her most intimate of places. And the kisses they’d shared had been uninhibited and mind-blowing, but she couldn’t think of that now, or she’d burn everything. As it was, her linen frock felt as though it was on fire.
“Hello,” she said a little too brightly.
He quickly surveyed the scene, his eyes falling to the griddle she stood beside.
“You makin’ flapjacks?”
“Crepes!” she exclaimed, like the nervous idiot she was.
He looked perplexed. “You can cook…?”
Lorelai tried her hardest to dismiss his suggestion that she was a useless Dallas society wife, or former wife in this case, lacking any useful skills whatsoever. She also tried to disregard how handsome he was in the early morning light. The man did things for plaid shirts she hadn’t thought possible. And no one could wear a pair of jeans like he did. She swallowed hard as images of last night flashed through her mind’s eye. She’d felt the strength of his body, and the hardness of his need for her.
The spatula slipped in her sweaty palm.
“Of course. All Dallas debs are sent to private schools where they take cooking classes, classic French of course. It’s expected of us to know how to cook, in order to entertain—to be a good hostess is imperative in the world of our society, but of course we never cook ourselves. Someone is always paid to do it. Isn’t that silly…”
He offered her no response. His eyes pinned her to the spot. She had to lean on the kitchen counter for support.
“I always preferred to cook myself. I like cooking. Why are you staring at me? Is it because I’m babbling? Or because you don’t like crepes? I filled them with sweetened cream cheese filling and there is orange sauce. Wait, seriously, why are you staring? Do I have batter in my ponytail?”
“I was standing here thinking you could very well be the perfect woman, if only you weren’t such an utter and complete pain in my ass.”
“Is cooking really that important to a man?” she asked breathlessly.
His eyes twinkled just a bit. “It does soften the blow.”
“The blow of being involved with a woman, you mean—or in my case, an utter and complete pain the ass.”
“It’s easier to manage a problematic situation with a full stomach, let’s just say that.”
She smoothed her dress self-consciously. “I’m certainly a problematic situation to be managed, aren’t I? You better eat then, sit down and I’ll serve you.”
“Not just yet.”
He just kept staring at her and she couldn’t understand why. She supposed an apology was in order.
“About last night…I behaved very badly and I’m sorry.”
Still, he just watched her, leaning his hip against the doorway.
“This is my apology breakfast. Aren’t you hungry? Why are you just standing there?”
He finally answered her, good thing, because she was about to roll herself into one of her crepes and suffocate.
“You look mighty pretty this morning.”
“I do?” she chirped. “Do you like my dress? I found it stuffed into the side pocket of my suitcase.”
He advanced on her then, cupping the side of her cheek in his palm. “I like seeing your face free of all that gunk.”
“This is the real me.”
“You’re lovely…lovely Lorelai.”
“You’re not angry about last night?”
“I can’t seem to stay mad at you.”
Lorelai hadn’t imagined things would go this well, this fast. Was it the crepes or the prim pink dress? Who knew and who cared? All that mattered was that he was close, his hands on her, his eyes warm as they delved into hers.
“I know last night was sort of an accident, but I can’t stop thinking about it.”
“Me either. You cast your spell over me, I’m a goner—there is no hope for me.”
She smiled with a mixture of shyness and pleasure. Then she covered his hand with hers. “Is your hand ok?”
He ignored her question, turning his face into her wrist. “You smell good too.”
“Oh, I think I spilled some vanilla there.”
Jeb ran his nose across the flesh of her inner wrist and then his lips. Lorelai feared she would crumple into a heap at his feet. Even a simple caress from him made her spine turn to jelly. And this time, she didn’t have the liquid courage of a boiler maker running through her blood. She was vulnerable, her emotions an open book.
“Don’t you want to eat breakfast?”
“I want to kiss you.”
“Hold me tight then. Your kisses make me weak in the knees.”
A rumble of satisfaction sounded deep in his chest as he locked an arm low around her waist, bringing her against him. Their lips were a hair’s breadth from meeting when suddenly a loud rap on the kitchen door sounded.
“Yoo hoo, I let myself in. Are you ready for your session, Jebby?”
Jeb groaned with dread as Lorelai jumped away from him like a scalded cat. The dark brunette from last night was standing in the kitchen. It took Lorelai a minute to get her bearings, to realize she wasn’t dreaming, or having a nightmare rather.
She turned to Jeb with a stricken expression. “What is she doing here?”
He cringed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She’s my physical therapist. My regular appointment—house call, I forgot…”
“A house call,” Lorelai gasped in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”
The brunette smirked at her over Jeb’s shoulder. “Somethin’ is cookin’ in this kitchen.”
She realized she still held the spatula in her hand. It took all the self-control she could muster not to throw it at one of them. Instea
d, she slammed it down on the counter with a loud smack.
“I’m sure you two will enjoy your breakfast.”
She stormed out of the kitchen, elbowing past the slut therapist.
“Lorelai,” Jeb attempted, but she was already out the door.
He caught up with her on the lawn.
“Where the hell are you going?”
“To the barn.”
“You’re not wearing any shoes.”
“I’m fine, I’m not cold.”
“No, I imagine not—you’re spitting mad.”
She whirled on him, her ponytail smacking her in the face. “Is this some kind of sick joke, some way for you to get back at me for last night?”
“She’s my physical therapist, Lorelai. That’s all.”
“I don’t believe you. You are obviously sleeping with her.”
“I am not sleeping with her—I told you I haven’t had a lady friend for a while.”
“She was all over you last night!”
“Shall we discuss your behavior last night? She wasn’t all over me. And why are we standing out here arguing like a pair of teenagers?”
“We were about to kiss and now she’s here!” Lorelai hollered.
She made for the barn again, but he lurched toward her and grabbed her arm.
“Why does that bother you so much?”
“She’s got dark hair. You prefer dark hair.”
“Lorelai…”
“She’s got great big boobs too!”
“My word, you’ve got a jealous nature. I can’t keep up with you. One minute you’re sweet, the next you’re flyin’ off the handle.”
“I have a terrible crush on you!” she belted out.
Jeb’s features softened, but Lorelai was off again, stalking in the opposite direction.
“Come back here, Lorelai.”
“No! I want to ride.”
“Now she wants to ride,” Jeb muttered, throwing up his hands.
Lorelai broke into a full run. “Leave me alone. You have a date anyway.”