by Caro LaFever
“You’re being too nice.”
He dropped his fork on the china with a clatter, and curiosity crossed his face. “You don’t enjoy it when I’m nice to you?”
The curl of his accent wrapped around the last word, a faint remnant of sexy husk reminding her of their kiss again. This time, the memory wasn’t swamped by her impressions of his eager boyishness and delicious food ready to be eaten.
This time, the memory succeeded in flooding back.
When he’d leaned in and taken, she’d been too stunned to feel betrayed at first. Then those delicious lips of his had done their work on hers and she’d sunk into him. At that moment, she’d felt surrounded by him, yet not in a way that scared her. Instead, she’d felt as if she’d found her berth, found her center. His big body had shielded her—from the wind, from the sun, from reality. His mouth had licked and sucked, pulling her closer in every moment.
He’d tasted wild and free.
He’d tasted like everything she’d ever wanted.
But then, she’d remembered. Remembered the secrets this man wouldn’t tell her, and the moment when she’d been grateful he hadn’t pushed.
“Jessie?” He pushed her once more. This time for an answer, not a kiss.
“I want to know why you’re being nice to me.” Her words echoed against the rock walls encircling them.
He didn’t seem fazed by her borderline accusation. Swinging one leg over the picnic table’s seat, he gazed out at the barren, beautiful landscape. “I told you, I like you.”
“There’s got to be more.”
“My smart, smart Jessie,” he murmured.
“I’m not yours.”
His gaze met hers. There was tenderness there, she was almost sure of it. A sweet, terrible tenderness in his eyes and expression. Something about it made her want to weep.
There’d never been any tenderness in her life before.
“I think of you as mine.” His husky words fell between them. Not a claim, really. More of a wistful desire.
A knot formed in her chest. She wanted to be his, she realized with a start. She wanted to be free to ride on this man’s bike to wherever he chose. Free to climb onto his big, beautiful body and take him as much as he took her. But her instincts quivered with anxiety.
“I’m not yours,” she stated again in a high voice.
A sigh came from across the table. “Don’t be afraid. I’m not going to hurt you.”
She inspected him, trying to decipher his expression, his eyes. He appeared relaxed and easy. Yet there was something in those eyes that both pledged and parried.
“I assure you.” His slight accent grew stronger. “Créeme.”
“What does that last word mean?”
“Believe me.”
They stared at each other across the old picnic table, covered in fine linen, china, and crystal. Jess felt the chasm of doubt close inside her. She wanted to believe him. Maybe she even needed to believe him. “All right.”
The blue of his eyes turned bright, a brilliant blast of joy. “Gracias.”
Looking down at the remnants of her food because she couldn’t take any more of that blue, she sucked in a breath. “I’m full.”
“It was good for you?”
The anxiety in his question stunned her enough she gave him a real grin, an honest one that opened her up to him. “Yes, very good.”
Anxiety slipped off his face, replaced by an answering grin. “Excellent.”
Their grins slowly faded, and Jess felt like something profound passed between them.
With a slap of his hands on the table, he broke the connection. He’d taken off his jean jacket before they ate, and his action emphasized the cut of his biceps under the white T-shirt. Jumping to a stand, he swung his other leg over the seat. Again, it hit her how he used his body like a well-trained dancer would. “Let’s go.”
She glanced at the remaining food. “Shouldn’t we clean up before we leave?”
“We’re not leaving yet. At least, not far. And if a few varmints happen along while we’re gone, let ’em have at it.”
A chuckle bubbled from her at his continued use of cowboy slang. For a moment, earlier, she’d thought she’d dipped her toe into some kind of emotional quagmire, but nothing about cowboys seemed to bother him now. “All right, cowboy.”
“That’s what I want to hear right before we take off. Amusement and agreement.”
“What?” Puzzlement and curiosity swarmed inside her. “Where are we taking off to?”
“Up.” One long, masculine finger pointed skyward.
Her head dropped back, and all she saw was the edge of the red rock ledge and then the unbelievable vastness of the blue, blue sky. “Don’t tell me you’ve ordered a helicopter or something.”
A short bark of a laugh came from him before he strode around the picnic table and grabbed her hand. Lacing his fingers through hers, he tugged her to a stand. “Naw, Ginger Snap. I’m afraid you’re going to have to work off your breakfast.”
“Work, huh?” She smirked at him, catching on to the teasing glint in his eyes. “Like I don’t know how to do that.”
“I’m not talking about the kind of work you’re used to.” Tugging again, he helped her climb over the bench. “Still, I’m hoping you’ll enjoy it anyway.”
He dragged her behind him, heading toward to the food container. She finally noticed two backpacks snuggly fit behind it, near the rocks. “Hiking?”
Jess had never considered herself an outdoor girl. She’d spent her life in big cities and fancy hotels. Swimming was fine and what she did to stay healthy, but she’d never gone past that. She wasn’t sure she wanted to.
Nick glanced at her, clearly picking up on her doubts. “I take it you’ve never done this.”
“I walk,” she said, with a surly growl.
His laugh filled the hollow they stood in. “And you’re smart enough to know walking along the Thames or the Seine isn’t the same as what we’re going to do.”
The last thing she wanted to do was look like a fool in front of this man. Scrambling over rocks and dusty trails might make her look stupid. “I don’t know—”
“That’s the point, Jessie.” Lifting a backpack, he uncovered a soft-looking cowboy hat with a wide brim. “It’s time to do things you don’t know anything about.”
“Why should I?” He was pushing her once more, and she didn’t know if she should get angry, or laugh with frenzied excitement.
Ignoring her terse question, he strode to her and examined the top of her head. “That bun has to go again.”
“No.”
“Yes.” His intense gaze fell to her face. “How about a ponytail?”
“I don’t do ponytails.” The last time she’d worn one, her dad had told her she looked like she was a toddler. That wasn’t the kind of image she was going for. Especially with this man.
“All cowgirls do ponytails.” He smiled, and his blue eyes lit with a tease. A coaxing, cajoling tease that was incredibly hard to reject.
But she tried. “I’m not a cowgirl.”
“If you’re with me, then you have to be at least half-cowgirl.”
His statement was more than a tease. It was another of his provocative pushes. The stew of amusement, anger, and anxiety inside her made it impossible for her to think. The only thing that plopped in her mind was…what had she missed? What she’d read on Google about this man made him seem like a creature of the city, a man about town.
Not a cowboy.
Except the boots he had on looked well-used, and there was something about the way he’d drawled when he teased her before that suddenly sounded authentic. “Were you a cowboy once?”
Something flashed across his eyes, something ugly.
Jess took a step back.
“Put your hair in a ponytail.” The ugly was gone now, leaving only tough purpose. “Or I’ll do it myself.”
Her spine straightened with a snap. “The hell you will.”
&n
bsp; His jaw went tight. For the first time, he didn’t use charm on her to get his way. For the first time, she saw another side of him. One she didn’t care for.
“Do it,” he commanded.
This was nothing like what she had to deal with when interacting with her irascible father. Clyde McDowell might expect obedience not only from his daughter, but from his entire staff, yet he never came off as a tyrant.
Anger overran any attraction she felt for Nick Townsend. Swinging around, she stomped off, while digging her handy cell phone from her pocket. “I’m leaving.”
Silence greeted her declaration. A silence that made the fine hair on the back of her neck stand to attention. Jess ignored the warning, marching toward the dusty road leading down into the rest of Red Rock Canyon Park. Her cell phone rang and rang. Eventually, Peter would pick up and come here to pick her up. She just had to be patient as she walked along the highway.
A male hand grabbed the phone right out of her own.
Twirling, she scowled at him. “Give it to me.”
“I just realized something,” he said as he slipped her phone into the back pocket of his jeans. “We both have tempers.”
“I just realized something too,” she countered. “You’re a jerk.”
His signature smile flashed across his face and those celestial-blue eyes gleamed with humor. “Yep, I can be.”
It was as if the ugly had never been. The tyrant issuing commands, the black look of harsh determination, all of it replaced by this sunny creature. She didn’t trust him. She wanted him, she’d seen moments of tenderness, but the last few minutes had caused her to raise her guard once more. “I want to leave.”
The smile fell off his mouth and his eyes went blank. “I don’t want you to.”
“I don’t care. You’ve ruined this.” She waved at the picnic table with its incongruous china and crystal, and something inside her wanted to cry. “I want to return to Las Vegas.”
“Jessie.” Her name slurred with his accent and held a hesitancy that wasn’t like him.
“What?” She crossed her arms and frowned. There was no way he’d sweet-talk his way out of this. No way. Not even if he did that tender thing or pretended he liked her, or turned his beautiful on to make her swoon. She wasn’t buying his stuff any longer.
Sighing, he put one foot on a rock and looked at the desert. “I’m sorry.”
The simple words floated between them, turning her heart over against her strong will. “Not good enough.”
“Jesús.” His wry chuckle came next. “I like you.”
“Well, I don’t like you.” Her hands tightened into fists so she wouldn’t reach out. “Not anymore.”
“Which tells me that at one point, you did like me.” He kept his gaze on the land.
She didn’t know if he did it on purpose, but the pose made her yearn for him. The lean length of his legs, the white T-shirt embracing his torso and arms, the olive of his skin and blackness of his hair. And more than anything, the rugged outline of his profile. The jut of his determined jaw and straight nose. The lushness of his brows and lashes. The way he narrowed his eyes, drawing sun lines near his eyes.
“Which means,” his voice came low. “I can get you to like me again, if I work at it.”
“That would take a lot of work and I don’t think even then, you’d be able to accomplish the task.”
A hum of what sounded like excitement rumbled from his chest.
Breathless excitement of her own rushed through her bloodstream at that sound. Jess knew she was foolish and stupid for even standing here, talking to this man. Dangerous and bad, charming and cool. She knew that combination spelled only problems for her. Yet, she couldn’t deny the fizzle of passionate energy he caused in her.
“Tell you what.” Finally, he turned to face her, dropping the pose, his cowboy boot hitting the dirt with a hard thump.
“What?” She eyed him with a wary gaze.
“Give me an hour of your time here.”
“Why should I?”
His lips quirked. “I’ll make it worth your while.”
She snorted in disbelief, though excitement still sizzled in her blood.
Striding to the backpacks, he stared down at them as if he were contemplating what to say next to get her to agree. There was no way she was going to be fooled by him anymore. No way.
“Give it up,” she said. “I’m not buying whatever you’re selling.”
He glanced at her, his expression filled with humor. And also respect.
The respect made her step back.
“There she is,” he murmured. “My Jessie.”
“As I’ve said before, I’m not yours.”
“Not yet.” A confident smile crossed his face. “But I mean to change that.”
Frustrated with his arrogance, as well as her reluctant fascination with him, she shot out her hand. “Give me my phone, so I can call Peter and have him come here to get me.”
“And cut my legs off at my knees at the same time.” He grinned as he said the words.
“Which you deserve.”
“True. Absolutely true.” The grin held.
He was impossible. Witty and charming. Sexy and seductive. If she hadn’t experienced it herself, she would have refused to believe the ugly that had happened a few minutes ago. “Nick.”
“Yeah.” Turning to face her, he took in a deep breath. “Give me a chance here.”
“Why should I?”
“Because you still like me. You know you do.”
His claim zipped through her and in a flash, she knew it was true.
“I don’t trust you,” she said, with a bluntness her father would have appreciated.
“Which is exactly why you should come with me.” Grabbing one of the packs, he held it out to her. His gaze was bright with provocation. “I’m going to make you a pledge. A vow, so to speak.”
“Oh, really?” She looked at the bag, but didn’t take it.
“Really.” His arm didn’t waver. “I vow you’re going to enjoy this, and I pledge that I’ll tell you some secrets you’ve wanted to know.”
Slowly, she reached out her hand and took the pack. And his challenge.
Chapter 13
When he’d landed on his father’s ranch at the age of fourteen, Nick had thought he’d arrived on another planet. Gone were the crowded city streets filled with tourists waiting to be pick-pocketed. Gone was the last of his mamá with her sweet, wheedling needs and her blanket forgiveness for anything he did. Gone was his confidence, gone was his place in a family of welcoming relatives, gone was him.
Edward Townsend had hated everything about his only son.
Or, so it seemed to Nick at the time. Perhaps he’d misread the signs, being impossibly angry at his displacement and impossibly destroyed at losing his mamá. Maybe he’d purposely forgotten the few times he’d visited with his father as a child—when his pa had come to town in order to see his boy. In any event, he’d spent the next four years battling his old man for a measure of respect.
A battle he’d lost.
Hiking up the dusty path toward the top of the ridge, Nick thought about ditching this whole situation. Yeah, he loved the ranch and yeah, he believed in his heart, it was his. But Jessica McDowell had shot into his life like a bullet train, and made him respect her, want her.
He didn’t want to hurt her.
Not as he’d done an hour ago, when he’d lost his temper. And any prolonged exposure to him was going to hurt her again. It was inevitable, his pa would say.
A tight, hot blade of regret and resentment knifed into him, making him flinch.
“How much longer?” she puffed from behind him.
He was taking her to a place he’d never shared with anyone. After leaving the ranch, he’d wandered for years. Going from casino to casino, gambling and saving everything he won. Once he’d started buying, he’d traveled some more, from casino to casino, now his own. When he’d bought Devil Skye two years ago, it
had made him realize he missed Nevada. Missed the hot, dry Las Vegas city streets and the unique blend of foreign and familiar. More than anything else, though, he missed the blue vastness of the desert sky, and the arid beauty of the land beneath.
He’d found this roost one day about a year ago.
This place he was taking Jessie.
It had reminded him of the rocky crag about an hour from the ranch. The rock had been his hideout when his pa went wild with anger at him. Since he couldn’t very well visit his father, the ranch, and his crag, this place, had served to soothe his…
Homesickness.
He brushed the thought away.
“Hey,” she grumbled. “Don’t ignore me.”
Nick chuckled under his breath at the thought. He hadn’t been able to ignore anything about Jessie since the moment they’d met. Which was the other problem.
He was getting too close.
Getting too near.
After his mamá, he knew that was dangerous. Giving women what they wanted was easy. Sustaining that attention and care was impossible. At least, for him. He’d learned hard that trying to please anyone, much less a woman, was a thankless task. Keeping things fast and easy had become his standard rule for any kind of relationship, other than with Maggie. It had served him well for years.
But with Jessie, he was entering dangerous territory once more.
Puto infierno.
With a last surge of effort, he climbed over the ridge and stepped onto the broad ledge made of hard red rock where he came to contemplate his future, his past.
“Hey,” she said again. “Help a girl out here.”
Swinging away from the stunning view that took his breath every single time, he found a scowling cowgirl glaring at him from below the ridge. He’d somehow managed to convince her to wear the hat, after explaining the sun was likely to burn another thousand freckles onto her skin. Before he could urge a ponytail on her again, she’d stuffed the hat on top of the bun.
For some reason, he really wanted to see her in a ponytail.
“Need a hand?” He grinned.
“No teasing.” She eyed the massive rock she had to climb over to get where he was. “Or I’m liable to hit you when I get up there.”