by Carter Ashby
She stomped and huffed. “You know what, there’s nothing wrong with an intelligent woman reading romance novels. It’s very…liberating.”
“Whatever you say, ma’am,” he said, with a tip of his stetson.
“At least I’m literate.”
He studied her and decided to let her have the win. Her defiant chin was just too much. He wouldn’t want to break her spirit even if he could.
“Well,” he said, taking a step back. “I guess I ought to work on this another time. Wouldn’t wanna keep you from…liberating…yourself.”
He winked, enjoyed her sweet blush for a moment, and turned away.
“Wait.” She ran back to her rock and returned with her cell phone. She stepped over the broken part of the fence, the creek water now calf-deep on her. She thumb-tapped on her phone and then turned it to face him. “What do you think of these numbers?”
He studied them, giving nothing of his surprise away. “That’s the land and the business?”
“Yes. And quite honestly, it’s very generous. I didn’t even want to offer it, but Dad said if I got a chance to talk to you again, he wanted to give it a try.”
Jake’s jaw muscles ticked. He nodded. “Very generous. I’m not sure what part of ‘You can’t put a price on family’ is unclear to you, Ivy. But we ain’t interested.”
“You can speak for your father on this? On these numbers?”
“On any number.”
“You won’t even try?”
“I don’t even want to.”
She threw her hands up and let them drop to her sides. “You know, it’s one thing to have principles. It’s something else to be just plain stupid.”
“My granddad built this business—”
“With his own two hands. Blah, blah, blah. Wake the hell up, Jake. It’s all fine and good to have grand ideas, but eventually reality comes knocking. This is reality.” she held her phone up.
“You can take your reality and shove it where the sun don’t shine!”
“Oh, my God, how do you live like this? How do you make your decisions based on these laughable, outdated ideas of family loyalty?”
“Maybe because I have a soul! You’ve got nothing in there but a cash register.” He pushed two fingers against her chest, over her heart.
“I’d rather have no heart than no brain.” She pressed two fingers against his forehead.
“Your momma’d be mighty disappointed in you right now.”
“Don’t you dare bring my momma into this!”
“You think she’d be happy about you trying to tear a family apart?”
“I’m not trying to tear you apart! This wouldn’t be tearing you apart!” She held up her phone again.
This time, Jake grabbed the phone and chucked it up the creek. It landed with a short splash on her side of the fence. He stared after it, frozen in shock at his own rashness.
Ivy watched it’s progress before turning wide, enraged eyes on him. “You son-of-a-bitch!” She shoved him hard in the chest.
Maybe it was because he wanted to shove her back but couldn’t, her being a girl and all. Maybe it was misplaced emotions. Confused switches in his brain somewhere crossing the signals. Whatever the reason, he grabbed her by the hair and pulled her in for a kiss. A hard, angry kiss. A kiss meant to punish, though he wasn’t sure which of them he was punishing.
He let her go and pulled his lips away.
She gaped at him, lips parted, breasts heaving. An instant later she was in his arms, her mouth hungrily taking his, her legs wrapped around his waist, his hat falling into the creek. He turned, moving toward his truck, intending to open the door. Somewhere in his brain there was a voice of reason, but when you find yourself pleasantly between a woman’s legs, instinct tends to take over. Instead of getting her into the truck, he slipped on a wet rock and wound up slamming her against the door instead. She cried out.
“You okay?” he gasped.
She nodded and mumbled something unintelligible before burying her fingers in his hair and taking his mouth again. He shoved the skirt of her dress up over her hips and pulled one side of the bodice down, baring a breast. He groaned in agony. He covered her breast with a greedy hand. For a moment, it shocked him back to reality. Here he was groping little Ivy Turner’s breast out in the open for God and anyone to see, except there wasn’t anyone here. Her breath came in hot bursts. He looked up. Their eyes met and for a moment he thought she would ask him to stop. But then she smiled. It was a split-second of camaraderie in the midst of a turbulent storm. In a blink, it was over, and her blue eyes darkened with lust as she smashed her mouth against his.
There was thin lace beneath her skirt. Fragile lace. He broke from her lips and growled, “How much do you care about these panties?”
“They’re my favorite ones—” She cried out as he ripped them off, and laughed as he fumbled with his belt, button, and zipper. After that, she wasted no time pushing herself onto him, meeting his thrusts passionately.
There was nothing he could do. No way he could hold back. If he could speak, he’d beg her to slow down and let him have the reins. But she kept pulling at him, sucking at his ear and neck, kissing him, riding him. Moaning. Breathing. “Jake!” she gasped as her muscles rippled around him and he lost the little bit of control he had, coming hard inside of her.
For a moment she clung to him, her arms and legs around him, her head on his shoulder. Small and vulnerable in his arms. The torrent of their breaths and heartbeats and moans subsided. Now there was only the trickle of the creek, the breeze rustling the leaves, and a nest of young sparrows singing nearby. Basically, silence.
Jake held her. Her small, vulnerable body was plastered to him and he felt like a protector. Like a hero. He breathed in the scent of her, felt her hot breath on his neck. Never in his life had he felt like more of a real man than in that moment.
He kissed her on the cheek and neck, cherishing her for a moment. Caring for her. He pressed his hand to her back feeling the fragile swell and contraction of her ribcage as she breathed and wondered how this moment felt like so much more than it should have. More than an indiscretion. More than an impulsive, foolish act. More…but what?
Ivy moaned and dropped her legs, sliding off of him. She slipped past him. He pressed his palms against his truck, closed his eyes, and took a breath to steady himself. When he turned, it was to see her kneeling in the creek water, her skirt gathered in one hand while her other hand was busy washing between her legs.
They hadn’t used a condom.
“Oh, hell, Ivy, I’m so sorry.”
He couldn’t see her face. Her hair curtained it. “It’s okay,” she said in a weak voice. “Not my smartest moment. But I’m on the pill. And you’re healthy, right?” Her words were confident, but her voice shook like a leaf in the breeze.
He knelt in the water next to her, not caring about getting his jeans wet, touched her chin, and turned her face towards him. “Perfectly healthy,” he promised.
She nodded and went back to washing.
“I’m so sorry,” he repeated.
“Oh, stop. I totally jumped you. Let’s just…let’s just leave this here. Okay?” She stood and dropped her skirt. It clung to her wet thighs.
He stood and faced her. “Absolutely,” he agreed. Then he cleared his throat, suddenly nervous. This wasn’t courtship, he knew that good and well. But Ivy wasn’t some random woman he’d met at a bar and would never see again. She was his neighbor. The little girl he’d once bought cotton candy for at the fair. And beyond all that, a good woman. He stood a little taller, cleared his throat once more, and asked, “Could I walk you home?” It was supposed to be, ‘Will you have dinner with me,’ but he just couldn’t quite pull that off.
Ivy smiled. “You’re a real gentleman. But no thanks. In fact, I’d rather just forget this happened.”
He frowned over at his truck as though he could see the ghost of what had happened there. She wanted to forget it happened? We
ll, that sucked. “Um, yeah,” he stammered, not sure how to answer.
“No need to acknowledge it anymore? No need to talk about it?”
He nodded, still frowning, still wishing he could have a moment to formulate what he wanted to say. He wasn’t above trying to convince her to see where it would go. “Sure, Ivy. Whatever you want.” The words were distant and insincere.
She bent down and picked his hat out of the water where it had hung up on a rock. With a grin, she plopped it on his head. He closed his eyes as water dripped down the sides of his face and neck, and opened them again in time to see her skipping through the creek and over the fence.
He watched her gather her book and boots, take her horse by the reins, and walk over the hill and out of his sight. There was self-recrimination. How could he have dishonored and endangered her like that? There was also satisfaction. Because holding her in his arms had easily been the most meaningful moment of his life. But more than anything, there was regret. Because that might have been the only window of opportunity Fate would put in his way, and the thought of never holding that girl again made him suddenly weak and achy.
With a sigh, he forced himself back into a mindset of work. Romance or no romance, sex or no sex, the chores had to be done.
Present Day
Ivy knew that their second breakfast meeting at the diner would be all business, but she couldn’t seem to get that message across to the part of her brain that picked out her clothes, because she ended up in the same sundress she’d worn at the creek that afternoon, in the same boots she hadn’t been wearing. Not the same panties, though. Those had been shredded.
She smiled at the memory.
Then she berated herself for smiling at the memory. She couldn’t quite bring herself to change clothes, though. Perhaps he would recognize the dress and be thrown off kilter. Perhaps he wouldn’t even notice it.
She drove to the diner where he was already waiting, in a corner booth this time. He didn’t stand, which was unusually ungentlemanly of him. He did lean forward as though he was about to stand and changed his mind at the last minute.
Ivy slid across from him, flipped her coffee mug over, and pulled out her phone. When in a business meeting with a bullheaded cowboy, a good way to get the upper hand was to hold a high-tech gadget and pretend you were completely interested in what was on the screen. “Old man have a change of heart?” she asked without looking at him.
“Not exactly,” Jake answered.
When he didn’t volunteer any more information than that—a power play, Ivy was certain—she let out an exaggerated sigh and placed her phone on the table. “So why am I here?”
Jake opened his mouth, but paused when the waitress came by to fill their coffee mugs. “Can I get you two anything else this morning?” she asked, reaching for her order pad, eyes only for Jake.
“Just coffee, thanks,” Ivy said firmly.
The waitress cast her a pressed-lip smile and turned away. Jake didn’t appear to have noticed the waitress at all. Instead, he was giving Ivy a rather intense once-over, his eyes narrowed and roaming her face. “Something’s different,” he said.
“Just say what you got to say, Jake.” She didn’t pick up her coffee cup. Her hand might tremble, and she wasn’t about to show weakness here.
Jake gave himself a shake, his focus returning to business. “Yeah. So, the old man has a counteroffer.”
Ivy leaned back. The old man has a counteroffer? That was a far different approach than he’d taken ten days ago when it was all “we” and “us.” Ivy allowed herself a little smile. There was blood in the water, she could smell it. With her now steady hand, she lifted her coffee mug to her lips. “Let’s hear it,” she said, and threw in a quick glance at her watch, just for effect.
Jake’s eyes narrowed, again, as he leaned forward. “Your hair’s down,” he said.
Her coffee sloshed. “The counteroffer?”
“He wants to buy the Hampton property.”
Ivy smirked. “He wants to buy the Hampton property?”
“I mean, we.”
“Of course you do.”
Jake slumped back in his seat like a pouty child who’d just been gotten the better of. Ivy could have laughed at him, then, but she had more important stakes to drive home. “First of all, Jake, the Hampton property has been the Turner property for ten years, now, and it ain’t for sale. Secondly, what’s Gideon think he’s gonna do? You all own your property free and clear. Why would he borrow against that just to send a ‘screw-you’ to my old man? And how can you, as the heir apparent, even pretend to support a decision like that? You know your grandchildren would be paying that off.”
Jake was all-out scowling, now. His big arms folded over his big chest. Not many men could look anything but menacing or childish when they were pouting…Jake was dead sexy. His dark eyes bored into hers. “It’s the dress,” he said.
“I beg your pardon?” She sat her coffee mug down. It rattled once on its saucer. She withdrew her hand and folded it in her lap.
“The dress. I know that dress. Intimately.”
“Listen, if you don’t want to talk business, then—”
“If you wanted to talk business you’d be in one of those prissy black skirts with your hair in a bun and your nails all manicured.”
“This is ridiculous.” She turned and started to scoot out of the booth before he could see the heat in her cheeks. But he propped his boot on the seat next to her, trapping her. “Move your big, dumb foot, Jake.”
“Know what I think?”
“Nope. And I don’t care.” Time to get the hell out of there and have a ritual burning of that bad luck dress.
“I think you’re angling for another off-the-books meeting down by the creek. That what you want, Ivy?”
“We agreed never to mention that.”
“You got a lot of nerve wearing that dress in here,” he said with a smirk. “You wanted me to mention it, admit it.”
“Let. Me. Go.”
“I’d be happy to meet you again, you know. Been thinking about asking you out.”
Ivy searched her mind for the low-blow and found it. “It’s not that I’m not interested, it’s just that I don’t think I can spare the two and a half minutes.”
He dropped his foot and his smirk, his eyes widening and the color draining from his face. “That was a mean thing to say, Ivy.”
She snorted as she stood and grabbed her cell phone. “Don’t get your ego in a twist, baby. At your age, there are worse problems to have.” With a wink, she turned and sashayed the hell out of there before he could think of a comeback.
On the drive back to her office, though, it wasn’t her verbal victory that played over in her mind. It was the fact that he’d offered to meet her again…that he’d admitted to having wanted to ask her out. Why would he admit that to her? Had he been trying to play her? Or did he really like her?
For some reason, Ivy spent the rest of her day glancing at her phone. Whether she was hoping for him to call or deciding whether to call him, neither happened.
Jake finished his coffee. He wasn’t sure why. He didn’t want it. In fact, it kind of burned his stomach. Maybe it was simply that after being figuratively kicked in the balls, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to walk. Even after he finished that cup, he signaled the waitress for a refill.
“Where’d your girl go?” the waitress asked as she poured.
“She’s not my girl.” He frowned down at the black liquid swirling in his cup.
“Well, it’s her loss.”
Jake pulled his cell phone from his pocket and stared at it, not sure what he’d find there. He had Ivy’s number. He could text her. It wasn’t really pride, stopping him. Her remark had definitely deeply offended him and awakened in him the itch to prove to her that he could last a hell of a lot longer than two and a half minutes; but more than that, it had cast doubt in his mind. Considering that the brief history of his relationship with Ivy consisted of her wal
king away without looking back, he couldn’t help questioning whether her feelings for him matched his for her. And no man wanted to put his heart on the line when there was the potential of it getting ruthlessly stomped on.
Still. There was the dress.
Why would she have worn it? She had to have known he’d recognize it. He’d had his hands all up in that dress. Then again, she hadn’t originally worn it for him. She’d worn it for comfort on a warm day when she’d been headed out to relax and read. Maybe the same was true to today. Maybe she’d worn it because she was taking the day off after their meeting. Maybe she hadn’t intended to send his head straight to fantasyland and make him hard as a steel rod right there in a public place.
“Well, well, well. Mr. Jake Deathridge.”
Jake looked up from his coffee to see Myra Tidwell sliding into the booth across from him, her cell phone and stylus out and ready. Never one to blend into the background, Myra had on black and white striped leggings and an aqua blouse with a matching aqua turban. Her array of plastic bracelets clacked together as she thumb-tapped her phone.
“You sure are tech-savvy for a little old lady, Mrs. Tidwell,” Jake said.
“I’ll take that as a compliment. Do you have any comments on your brother’s relationship with Ivy?”
Jake looked into her zealous blue eyes and just shook his head. “Ain’t you got any grandkids or quilting partners or something to spend your time on?”
“I do, as a matter of fact. But social reporting is my passion. Now…about Ivy and Dallas.”
“I just met with Ivy, just a couple minutes before you showed up. Didn’t anyone report that to you?”
Myra’s ears perked up. They actually, literally moved.
“How come,” Jake continued, “you don’t assume because she was talking with me, just now, that I’m the one sleeping with her?”
“Are you?”
“You know what else? I saw Ivy and Molly Allen having tea together through the window of the shop up the street just a couple days ago. Maybe Ivy and Molly are sleeping together.”