Forgotten Memories

by Theresa Stillwagon

  He stopped at the batwing door of the saloon and waved goodbye to his brother, watching him step toward the church on the far end of the street before dragging his Stetson from his head. Adam didn’t want to talk to Jen, didn’t want to even see her, but he needed permission to drive his herd. Those cows needed to be in the winter pasture by the beginning of November, before the first snowfall of the season.

  “Adam?” Jen whispered near the swinging doors.

  Oh, dear Lord, was the weirdness happening all over again?

  Was he going to turn and see smooth bare skin and a curvy hint of breasts?

  “What are you doing here?” A hand touched the edge of his flowing duster, grabbing the edges of the opened calf length jacket in a loose grip. “I thought you were going to have your brother take care of the cows.”

  “He’s here with me.” Relief washed through him, even though a part of his mind screamed disappointment. “He’s outside.”

  Jen stepped past him and looked down the wooden sidewalk. “Where is he?”

  “He’s around somewhere.” Uneasy warmth moved through his skin at her innocent touch. “I think he went over to check out the church.”

  “Your brother likes churches?” Her grin brightened the green of her eyes, pulling her lips up in a soft way. Kissable, he thought. “I thought cowboys liked saloons.”

  Adam felt his mouth lifting in an unexpected smile. “He does like saloons, but he likes pretty blonde-haired women better.”

  “Pretty blonde women.” She frowned, looking toward the church. “Oh, you mean Rose?”

  “If she has wavy hair all the way down her backside—” He grinned wickedly at Jen while following her into the dim barroom. “Then yes.”

  “Rose has the longest hair I’ve seen on a woman in a long time.”

  “And my brother loves long hair.”

  She turned to face him, leaning on the bar. “And what do you like?”

  Was she flirting with him? Adam sensed a difference in her attitude toward him, a softening. He felt his body relaxing against the wall near the door.

  “I guess I shouldn’t have asked that question.” She looked down at her white shoes. “I don’t think I want to know.”

  “I like sexy history professors,” he said before he could stop the words. “Who aren’t afraid to live the part.”

  Slight pink flushed across her cheekbones. “Oh.”

  “Especially when they wear revealing red dresses.” He grinned at her uncomfortable stance. “And own saloons in old ghost towns.”

  “Oh.”

  With high, full breasts and long, long legs.

  Damn!

  “If my professor in college looked like you,” he said easily, leaning back into the wall, “I might have actually gone to some of the classes.”

  “You didn’t like history?”

  “I do now, lady.”

  She studied him for so long he felt an urge to turn and walk out the door. Why in the hell was he flirting with this strange lady anyway? Yeah, so she was hot as sin, but she still seemed a bit odd to him.

  Straightening up from the wall, he stepped into the bar and pulled out a chair from the nearest table. ”Have a seat, we need to talk.” He placed his cowboy hat on the table in front of him and settled down in a second chair. “I need to have your decision on the cows.”

  She stared at him again, taking in his slouching form and relaxed attitude.

  Outwardly he showed a man with no concerns at all, but inwardly he was a man tight with a need he couldn’t explain, with an ache he could barely control. Something was wrong here, he sensed.

  Yeah, he was hot for the woman, but these feelings were way overboard for him.

  “What did William and Jack say to you?”

  “They put the decision into your hands…again.”

  Jen shook her head, glancing at the stairway leading up to the second floor. “They do that to me a lot.” Dragging her eyes from the stairs, she said, “The three of us talked about this last night. We believe that your cows will do too much damage to the town. I know you said that the cows go where the cowboys tell them to, but I’m not sure I can trust you to know what an entire herd of cattle will do.”

  “What if I showed you?”

  “Show me?” She looked hard at him. “How will you be able to do that?”

  “You could go up to the summer pasture in the hills and watch the cowboys herd the cows to the pens.” Why was he asking this woman to go up there? Quiet and isolated, no one within twenty miles of the place, the summer pasture was the perfect spot to take a woman. If that woman was yours. “I could take you there sometime this week. You could ride double with me on my horse.”

  “I hate horses.”

  He grinned, enjoying her discomfort. “It’s the quickest way there, Jen.”

  “Maybe Jack or William should go,” she said. “I trust them completely.”

  “They put the final decision into your hands, Professor.” He liked the uncomfortable air around her now. The horse was suddenly in his corral, and he planned on keeping it there long enough to find out why he felt so needy around this woman. “I want you to go up with me.”

  “Don’t ranches use four-wheelers now?”

  “Yeah.” He leaned back in his chair. “But we can’t get to the summer pasture with one. The area is too uneven and rocky.”

  She stepped from the bar and walked to the door, pushing it open to look across the street toward his horse. He rose from the chair and moved to stand behind her, smelling the flowery scent of her perfume. She smelled nice, like wildflowers on a cool summer’s night. He wondered if she felt as sweet as she smelled, all fresh and warm, hot and tight around him. Damn, hold it, boy.

  “He won’t hurt you, you know. We have a good understanding, Dark Day and I.”

  “Maybe you and your horse have one,” she whispered, thankfully not noticing the slight hitch in his voice. “But what about me?”

  His laughter rose up sharp and even, a second before his hand touched her stiff back. “As long as you’re with me he’ll behave.”

  “This is not a funny matter, Mr. Craine.”

  “Adam.”

  “Mr. Craine.” She twisted to face him, backing up hard to the wooden wall. “I’ll walk to the pasture.”

  He placed his hands on the wall on either side of her head, and leaned closer to her mouth. Her tongue snaked out to lick her bottom lip. “Damn, but you are something else.”

  “You need to step back from me.”

  “Do I now?” He could feel her breath, warm and cinnamon fresh, breezing against his throat. “All you have to do is push me away. I’m not holding you against the wall. I’m not even touching you—yet.” His right index finger moved to caress the smoothness of her left cheek, stopping at the curved angle of her sweet mouth. Heat raced through his lower body, blood rushing, to settle hot in his groin. “You better push me away, honey.”

  She only continued to stare into him.

  “Lady,” he whispered, lowering his head to capture her tempting bottom lip with his mouth. He bit it gently before lifting his mouth from hers. “Nice.”

  She sighed, warm against his lips, relaxing softly into him. “No.”

  He ignored her weak protest, stepping tight into her full body. He cupped her right cheek and angled her head, nibbling the corner of her mouth with a gentle bite.

  “No.”

  “You can always push me away.”

  This time she did—hard, easing away from him and walking toward the nearest table.

  He stood with his back to her retreating form, staring at the dark wood of the unfinished wall. Dragging in a deep breath then another before turning to stare at her, he relaxed against the wall, wishing he had his hat to hide his interest. It still sat on the table beside Jen.

  “You want it.”

  He straightened up, tight and hard once again.

  She grinned while picking up his cowboy hat and tossing it at him. He caug
ht it easily, placing it on his head at a front downward angle. His mother would probably get upset at his disrespectful behavior, but he didn’t care. He needed to hide from her all-seeing eyes.

  “How did you know I wanted my hat?”

  She only smiled at him.

  Oh, yeah, she was a peculiar one all right.

  “No, I’m not,” she said in a controlled way. “I’m just psychic.”

  * * * *

  That simple yet memorable kiss stayed with her as she followed Adam out of the saloon a few minutes later, the warmth of it still tingling throughout her body. She should be pissed that he’d taken such liberties with her, but she wasn’t. It had been a long time since she’d been kissed so sweetly, so thoroughly.

  And it was a great kiss.

  If a simple kiss left her this hot, she could only imagine what being—

  Damn, it wasn’t fair.

  Why did she have to meet this man now? Why had she allowed him to kiss her?

  And why had he stopped so easily, without a word of protest?

  Adam turned toward her and held out his hand. She ignored it and quickly walked past him. His whispery laughter followed her stiff form, his soft voice lingered in her psyche.

  How arrogant, she thought.

  “Are you afraid you might have the urge to kiss me again?”

  She swerved to face him, saying, “You can always dream,” before twisting back around and walking fast toward the livery.

  His laughter followed her.

  The arrogant bastard, she thought again.

  “Craine,” the booming voice she’d remembered hearing early this morning jerked her head upwards, stopping her mid-step near the old building. “Thought I saw you and your crew riding in an hour ago. Hear tell you’re having a hard time getting those cows of yours herded to the ranch.”

  “I’m working on a solution.”

  “Yeah.” Questioning eyes fell onto her face for a quiet moment before he looked behind her. “Is this Erin?”

  “No.”

  “Oh, sorry.”

  Jen glanced at the man. “You must be Mr. Thornton. I’m Jen Ferguson, the history expert for WCHA.”

  “WCHA?”

  “Winter Creek Historical Area,” she answered. “We’re actually a foundation, but decided not to use the F in our initials.”

  “Yeah, I remember what the letters stand for now. So, do you have the final say on whether or not the Craines get to drive the cows past the town?”

  “Yes.”

  “Well.” The older man stared beyond her and grinned. Jen didn’t like that male-to-male thing, like shared knowledge of appreciation. His mouth widened into a smirk. “When will you be moving them?”

  Temper flaring, Jen felt her back go rigid against the cowboy’s lean front. “I haven’t given him my permission yet.”

  “Oh, but you will.”

  She suddenly wanted to smack that look completely from his wrinkled face.

  “You will,” the older man repeated, winking behind her at Adam.

  “I don’t think so,” she said stiffly.

  “Thornton?” Adam said.

  The older man looked down at her, and flushed a bit when he saw her expression. “I’m sorry, ma’am, for speaking out of turn to you that way,” he said quickly. He returned his gaze to the cowboy. “Do you want to see what we’re planning on doing with this building, Adam? Me and the boys have been working on the inside of the livery stable since before four this morning.”

  “You have?” Adam asked.

  “It’s good to be busy again. My wife didn’t want me to take on the responsibility of the business, but I finally talked her into being a part of it. That way she’ll be around if anything happens to me. She’s always so worried ’bout my health.”

  “That’s understandable,” Adam said, stepping up from behind Jen. “You did just get over having a heart attack.”

  “Yeah.” He sighed. “Over a year ago. How long does she expect me to stay in the house, doing nothing?”

  Jen stared from one man to the other, settling her gaze on the older one. “You do plan on honoring your commitment to WCHA, right?”

  He glanced down at her. “Well, sweet thing, why would I change my mind?”

  “Four other ranchers changed theirs.” Staring hard at him, she added, “We need you to keep your promise to us.”

  “No need to worry, ma’am,” he said, looking behind him toward the livery. “I always keep my promises.”

  Chapter 5

  “Professor Ferguson,” a softly spoken female voice interrupted Jen’s thoughts a few hours later. “You were telling us about possible report topics.”

  She turned and stared gratefully at the girl, glad to have someone interrupt her memory of that damn kiss. To wipe away the astonishment on Adam’s face when she’d mentioned being psychic, the shocked expression when she read his mind. Telling him about her ability had come easier than she’d thought it would, however, and he’d seemed to accept it easier than she thought he would. Surprise, surprise, she thought. Now he might see her as less than a flake.

  She smiled.

  That thought she could read.

  “Professor,” the same student said. “About the reports?”

  “Oh, I’m sorry.” Burying the memories deep in her mind for later, she peered down at her notes before lifting her gaze toward the questioning student again. “You wanted to know about topics for your final report.”

  “I have a topic, but it’s about World War Two.”

  Jen considered the statement. “I would rather you choose a subject about something happening during the time period of this class. Up to and including the Civil War, the south during the reconstruction period at the latest.”

  “But I want to write about World War Two,” the girl insisted. “My great-grandfather told me a few good stories I’d like to use.”

  “You can use it for the second part of this course.”

  “I’m not planning on taking the second part.”

  She stared at the frowning girl. Pretty, with short dark brown hair and wide hazel eyes, she seemed like a girl who usually got her way. “I’m sorry, but you’ll still need to change your subject matter.”

  “But I want to use this topic.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “What about writing about something…different?” Jen stared up toward the new speaker, and frowned at his dark gaze. This boy always left her feeling uneasy. If she were capable of reading minds, this particular student’s mind wouldn’t be her first choice. “I’d like to write about sex during the Civil War.”

  A few of the students laughed out loud. A few more giggled under their breaths.

  “Would it be all right, Professor?”

  Dragging in a deep breath, she looked away from the smirking jock. “The human race is still alive and well, so I’m assuming people had sex during the time of the war.” She glanced at her watch before standing up. “Just remember I’ll need your subjects by Friday. Class dismissed.”

  The room filled with rustling sounds, followed by chairs scraping against the floor and footsteps pounding loud and fast to the door. Blessed silence trailed the chaotic exit of the students, and she was alone.

  Or so she thought.

  “Hello, Jennifer.”

  She hadn’t heard him enter. “David, what are you doing here?”

  “Is that anyway to greet an old lover?”

  Jen opened the bottom drawer of her desk and pulled out her purse.

  “Don’t have anything to say to me?”

  She straightened and stepped from behind the desk. Without looking at him, she said, “You really believe I’ll have anything to say to you after all the lies you’ve been spreading about me?”

  “I only told the truth.”

  “Bullshit!”

  He stopped her forward movement. “What lie did I tell? You and I met in a bar, and we made love the same night we met. And did you not promise to marry me before
changing your mind?”

  “What?” Hot anger gushed into her body, leaving her with an unexpected desire to slap his face. “I never promised you anything but a few months of pleasure.”

  “I wanted more.” Both hands reached up to grip her arms tightly. “You let me believe I could have more.”

  She sighed. “You read what you wanted to read, David.”

  His hands suddenly jerked off her hurting arms, and she looked behind him. Her grandfather stood near David, hands clamped hard on his shoulders.

  “Get your hands off my granddaughter.”

  “Professor Wainwright, I was just…”

  “You need to leave this classroom right now.” Her grandfather’s skin flushed red with anger. “Jen doesn’t want to have anything more to do with you. Why can’t you get that through your stupid skull?”

  The stunned expression on David’s face brought a smile to hers. She didn’t need her grandfather’s help, but she was glad he was there. David irritated her, caused her all kinds of trouble with his mouthful of lies, but he wasn’t a violent person. She knew he would never hurt her, no matter what she did to him. She almost felt a bit sorry for him.

  “Sir, I was only talking to Jennifer.”

  “Her name is Jen, not Jennifer.”

  She nodded at her grandfather’s adamant statement. She hadn’t gone by her full name since leaving for college a month after she’d turned eighteen, more years ago than she wished to remember. Her mother had always called her Jennifer.

  “Now why don’t you leave so I can take my beautiful granddaughter out for lunch?”

  She watched David leave the room, staring at the doorway a few minutes after he’d disappeared from her view. “Thanks, Granddad.”

  “You should’ve never taken up with that boy.”

  She grinned. All her male friends had always been boys to her grandfather, no matter how old they were. David was on the closer end of forty, a good eight years older than her. Was that why she’d ignored all the warning lights going off in her brain when they’d first met? She’d known him as the best-selling author of three history books, the saving grace of this small college. Is that why she’d allowed him more leeway within her heart than any of the others?