Her lips scrunched into a sardonic smile. “It’s not that simple, Ford. I’m different. You’re different. Everything is different.”
He leaned in, wishing the table didn’t separate them, wishing nothing else did, kissed her palm, and pressed it to his cheek. “Then let’s be different together.”
The pained look on her face made Ford’s chest tighten with dread. He anticipated her next move, but hated that she felt the need to retreat from him again. She pulled her hand free, stood up, and took three steps away from the table, her hands up to ward him off despite the fact he didn’t move to go after her. He’d made progress with her these last few days. He anticipated they’d go through some ups and downs. He just wished the tenuous trust they’d built didn’t feel this close to breaking. Still, he needed to know how hard he could push her without sending her into a downward spiral. Right now, she needed space, but she hadn’t blown up on him for talking about them being together—something he thought she wanted as much as he did.
“I’m not the same woman you used to know. You didn’t want her. There’s no way you’d want me now.”
He remembered Zac telling him what their mother said to her at the diner. “You’re dead wrong, Firefly. That’s your mother speaking, and you know it.”
She shook her head. “You should go.”
“Jamie, honey, it’s okay to . . .”
“Go. You need to go.” The pulse at her neck beat faster than her breath sawing in and out. He’d sent her into a panic attack.
He rose from the table, making her eyes go even wider. She braced for a fight or to run. He didn’t know which and didn’t want to think about it too much. It would only make him mad to think she wanted to do either of those things because of him.
“Leave. I want to be left alone.”
“No you don’t.” Ford stared at her from across the room for a full ten seconds. She barely held on to her composure as she slowly unraveled in front of him.
“Don’t come back.” The soft words barely made it past her lips.
She didn’t mean them. But they ripped through his heart and made it bleed.
“I’ll see you tomorrow.” He hoped those words, the reassurance he put into them, finally penetrated and sank into her mind and heart. If he had to start all over with her tomorrow, so be it. He’d settled in for the long haul. One setback wouldn’t deter him from his goal—Jamie, healthy and happy again. And just maybe, his again.
Chapter 9
The ringing phone sent a jolt of adrenaline through her system. Jamie rolled over and stared at the pretty peonies Ford had given her. A much nicer view than the dead fern Ford had tossed out. She waited out the four rings, for it to go to voice mail before she picked it up. Missed call. From Tobin. Again. Because she couldn’t bring herself to talk to him. He reminded her too much of what happened. Even his call sent her mind back to that one moment in time when she was lying on the ground shot and bloody and staring up at the attacker who killed all her friends.
A man she couldn’t bring into focus.
A man she should have killed before he killed all her friends and tried to kill her.
He’d tried damn hard.
She rubbed her finger over the scar on her chest.
The phone chirped with the inevitable text message from Tobin because she hadn’t answered his call. Guilt swamped her for ignoring the only friend she had left. Well, except for Ford. Maybe. She hoped they were still friends, especially after she’d ordered him out of her house last night when things got too personal and too scary.
Tobin wouldn’t be her friend much longer if she kept ignoring him, but her need to distance herself from the past kept her from answering his calls.
TOBIN: Pick up the phone call me back or I’ll come to Montana
Direct. To the point. Just like Tobin. A man of few words. Jamie rolled to her side and grabbed her sour stomach. She did not want to see Tobin. He wouldn’t come here, she tried to convince herself, but the more she thought it possible, the harder it was to breathe and fight the need to run from him and a past she didn’t want to think about anymore.
She tossed her phone back on the nightstand and tried to think of something less . . . overwhelming. She didn’t want Tobin to invade her solitude and haul all the things she tried to keep shoved in the back of her mind to the forefront. She wanted time to deal with them in her own way, in her own time.
The only good thing to take up residence with the ghosts in her mind, the only person she wanted to think about, was Ford.
Jamie went to bed last night, tossing and turning, with one thought rattling around her brain—she and Ford had both changed. Nothing in her life seemed the same. His life wasn’t exactly the same as when she’d last seen him. Could they really be different together?
She didn’t know if she had it in her to love someone again. She’d only ever loved him. She’d seen other men after him, but they never seemed to measure up to the one man who’d stolen her heart. The man who still held it, despite how battered and broken it had become these past years. She didn’t know if she had it in her to put the pieces back together and give him what he seemed to want.
Did he really want a second chance with her? Did he want to be together again? He sure made it seem that way, but why would he want her back after all this time when she was so much worse than the girl he sent away all those years ago? It didn’t make sense. He didn’t make sense.
What the hell am I doing here?
She needed to leave, find someplace new, someplace where no one knew her and she didn’t know anyone. No one to pressure her. A place she could breathe—if that even existed.
Her phone chirped again. She leaned over and read the message.
TOBIN: Call me!!!
She needed to move to someplace without cell service.
She’d find a job. Something easy. Thanks to her medical disability and the money she’d saved, she could afford to take a low paying job and still get by if she kept her expenses down. She didn’t need much. A roof over her head, food, and her meds. She’d get by. She didn’t need anything extravagant. Look where she lived now. More shack than modern home, the place needed a lot of work, but she couldn’t even muster up the energy to paint the walls, let alone renovate the place.
It had good bones. It would be a great place to live. If she fixed up the barn out back, she could even get a horse. She used to love to ride. Especially with Ford. She missed those long rides, challenging him to a race, and ending up kissing under a tree, or splashing and laughing in the river.
Her grandmother had a thriving vegetable garden on the side of the house back in the day. She could put one in, but she’d have to start with plants from the nursery. It was summer now, and soon winter would be upon them and nothing would grow until after the snow thawed.
If she bought a rocking chair, she could sit on the porch and watch the sunrise while she drank her coffee. She and Ford could sit out there and watch the sunset.
Wait. What? She didn’t want to stay. She wanted to go. Right?
Two honks blasted out front. Ford. Her heart fluttered and another bolt of adrenaline shot through her system with the anticipation of seeing him again. After she sent him away last night, she didn’t expect to see him this early in the morning. Or at all.
But he came back. He kept coming back.
What did it mean?
Unable to figure that out without accepting what Ford kept trying to tell her, she turned and stared at the clock. Just after eight-thirty. What was he doing here now? He should be working his ranch. The one he’d always wanted. The one she’d thought she’d live on with him.
Not going to happen. Right? She didn’t know the answer to that question, or the millions of others rattling around her brain in some random whirlwind.
The front door opened and closed. Ford turned the water on in the kitchen sink.
What the hell is he doing? How did he get in?
That last question scared her, becaus
e she was sure she’d locked up before going to bed after spending far too long staring at a bottle of whiskey and her bottle of pills, listening to the silence in her empty house and her even emptier soul, scolding herself for sending Ford away when she’d have liked to stay locked in that moment when he kissed her palm and pressed her hand to his rough cheek. The warmth that simple touch had sent through her system should tell her more than anything how much she wanted to be with him again.
Logically, she knew the dark moments that dragged her deep into the black pit in her mind would pass. She fought her way through her dark thoughts to find a glimmer of light to hold on to. Most of the time something, anything worth living for was hard to find, but lately, one thing always emerged and lit up that blackness. Ford. She clung to him and memories of what they used to share. She didn’t spend every second of her day lost in the past anymore. She’d even caught herself thinking about the future, and the possibility of one with him.
She didn’t know which was more dangerous, wallowing in her past, or risking her heart to be with Ford again.
Worth it? Yeah, probably. But it meant working even harder to be the kind of woman he’d want and deserve. Her heart really wanted to try.
“Firefly, get up,” Ford called down the hall. Probably too afraid to come to her door for fear she’d shoot him again.
On a positive note, this morning she didn’t wake up with the gun in her hand. She woke up sighing out his name, wishing she could sink back into the dream of her with him in this bed, tangling up the sheets. His warm hands on her skin. His hard body pressed on top of her, rocking into her.
She’d much rather dream about that. Though reality would be a hell of a lot better.
He was here, in her house, and she didn’t know why, but she wanted to believe it was because what she thought they shared so long ago actually existed in some small way between them even now.
Jamie rolled out of bed, stretching her back side to side to loosen up the tight muscles and scarred skin. What she wouldn’t give for a massage. A bubble bath in a luxurious tub. The one in the master bath here had seen better days and staring at the outdated gold flecked Formica counter and god-awful lime avocado green paint depressed her more.
She raised her right arm and stretched her shoulder. She tried to raise her left, but only managed to get her hand level with her face. She needed to get back to her physical therapy before she lost even more of the mobility in that arm.
She dragged on a pair of old worn sweats and adjusted the T-shirt she’d slept in up on her shoulders to cover as much of the burn scars as possible. She stood and walked to her closed bedroom door, catching a glimpse of her rumpled self in the mirror over the dresser. She stopped and raked her fingers through her disheveled hair. Too thin, lines on her face, dark circles under her eyes, ugly scars, and a bad attitude.
Every guy’s dream.
If she had a hope of keeping Ford’s attention, she needed to work on her physical and mental state.
She ran the brush through her hair, dabbed some concealer under her eyes, and slicked some tinted lip balm over her lips. Far from a beauty queen, but a hell of a lot better than the zombie she usually looked like, she opened her bedroom door and walked down the hall to the kitchen. She turned the corner and found Ford standing with his back to the sink, drinking a cup of coffee. On the table in front of him, he’d set a plate with scrambled eggs, sliced strawberries, and her favorite glazed donut holes.
She stood staring at him, her heart melting in her chest at his kindness. God, just the sight of him made her feel better. She wanted to walk right up to him and lay her head on his wide chest, feel his strong arms around her, hear his steady heartbeat against her ear, and let it all go.
A single tear slipped past her lashes and ran down her cheek. Still, she didn’t move. Couldn’t really. She just wanted to look at him and feel this way. Happy. Grateful. Relieved he was here.
He came back.
“Morning.” His deep voice resonated through her body.
That bit of happiness in her heart grew three sizes in her chest. She just might get used to it again.
“Hungry?”
Unable to speak or dismiss his kind gesture, she swiped the tear from her face, sat at the table, and picked up the fork. She slipped the first bite of warm eggs into her mouth. They practically melted on her tongue.
Ford sighed next to her. He set his coffee mug on the counter beside him and reached for something out of her sight. She tried to remain calm, relaxed, but her focus remained on his every movement.
She placed another bite into her mouth and froze with the fork on her tongue when Ford’s hand settled on her shoulder and that familiar electricity shot through her system. On guard all the time, she slipped the fork out of her mouth and breathed in his clean, rain in a forest scent.
He leaned over and set her bottles of pills on the table next to her mug of coffee. Her focus settled on the warmth and weight of his hand on her. That warmth spread through her like smoke from a fire filling an enclosed space. Nothing was as empty as her before that happiness settled inside her, but now something even better washed through her. Heat. Need. Longing.
His fingers brushed across her back as he stood and went back to the counter, grabbed his mug, and came back to the table and sat across from her.
Only then did she try to swallow the sweet strawberries.
“Relax, Firefly, I’ve touched you a million times, a thousand different ways. You know me. I know you.”
Several of the ways he used to touch her came to mind and heated her cheeks. “I’m not the same. You’re not the same. This isn’t the same.” But God, how she wanted it to be.
He leaned forward and kept his steady gaze locked with hers. “The way I touch you is the same. I will never hurt you.” He sat back in his chair and sipped his coffee, completely at ease, except for the intense gaze he kept on her. A stare that dared her to believe and asked her to trust.
“I’m trying.”
“I know you are. I’m asking you to keep trying.”
She hadn’t realized she spoke her thought out loud. What he asked was exactly what she told herself each and every day—multiple times a day. Don’t give up. Never give up.
Easier said than done.
She went back to eating the lovely meal he’d made her. He sat across from her watching without making it seem like he studied her every move and every nuance of her expression. Which she tried to keep blank, but feared every random thought in her head showed on her face.
“I ran into your brother in town while I was picking up some supplies and getting you donuts.”
Jamie popped one into her mouth, savoring the sweetness and light doughy texture. “Thank you.” She didn’t know what else to say right now. He’d completely thrown her off balance with that one simple touch.
“You’re welcome. Zac asked about you. He said you haven’t called him back in days.”
“I didn’t have anything good to say.”
“Really? Nothing new or good happening in your life this past week?”
“What do you want me to say to him? ‘Ford’s back in my life. I sit around the house alone all day getting my crazy on and waiting for him to show up and make it all seem normal and better, hoping he doesn’t see that I’m a mess despite how obvious that is. And how was your day, Zac?’”
Ford’s smile spread across his face and lit up his hazel eyes. She replayed what she’d said in her head and sighed. Damn the man for making her say things she didn’t want him to know.
“Well, under that mess is someone who wants to get better. Without the booze mixed with meds, the crazy has turned down, despite the thoughts you still listen to in your head and the fact you sent me away last night when you really wanted me to stay.”
Despite how much she loved that cocky grin, it pissed her off sometimes, especially when he was right.
“You’re awful sure of yourself, tough guy.”
He nodded his ag
reement. “For all the one step forward, two steps back, I see you working to move in the right direction, but I worry about you sitting here all day fighting the thoughts in your head and the memories of your past.”
“I miss having something to do, but I’m still in so much pain.”
“Zac mentioned you’re supposed to do physical therapy for your injuries. You always seem physically uncomfortable. You need to move, not waste away on the couch staring at the TV. Half the time, you’re not even paying attention to what you watch anyway.”
She couldn’t argue with anything he’d said, so she didn’t say anything.
“So, get dressed. You’re coming with me.”
“Outside?”
The unexpected chuckle bubbled up from his gut. “Yes. In the fresh air.”
“Ford, I don’t want to go anywhere. Being around people . . .” She shook her head, the panic rising in her chest. Her heart thrashed against her ribs. She could barely breathe, thinking about the parade, the level of anxiety that had caused until she exploded and punched her brother in the face. She didn’t want to have another total meltdown in front of Ford, let alone the whole damn town.
Ford placed his hand over hers. “Jamie, breathe. Please, baby. Take a short breath and let it out.”
She tried. She really did, but the thought of going out, being around a bunch of people, feeling like the enemy was out there waiting for a chance to hurt her when she knew it was all in her mind . . . Oh God, please, I can’t.
Ford rose and came around the table and crouched beside her. He laid his hand on her shoulder. She flinched, but didn’t make a break for it. Her breath stopped and her heart skipped several beats. Something inside of her throbbed. It pulsed out to him and back. It made the missing him worse, the wanting him stronger, the need to reach out to him overwhelming because she feared him pushing her away again.
She tried to focus on the connection to him and concentrated on the feel of his warm hand on her shoulder.
His Cowboy Heart Page 9