Hell, that part of him just wanted to grab hold of her and not let go.
“Well, it’s about time you picked up your phone. I suppose it’s too much to ask for you to return one of my messages.”
“That would mean having something to say.”
His half sister sighed. “J.T.—”
“Don’t call me that.” The childhood nickname—like his brief childhood in Atlanta, like his family—were things he’d left behind long ago.
After a slight pause, his sister murmured, “Sorry, Jarrett.”
His hand tightened on the phone. Truth was, he had no issue with his half sister and no reason for acting like such a jerk. “That’s just...not who I am.”
Her voice was wistful as she replied, “It’s how I remember you.”
It amazed him somewhat that Summer remembered him at all. Or at least that she remembered him fondly. The eight-year age difference had always struck him as huge. Most of his memories of Summer were of a crying baby, an annoying toddler and a spoiled child. Even if his memories were accurate, Summer had only been ten when he stopped going to Atlanta, fulfilling the regular, court-mandated visits.
That had been over a decade ago, and if he’d missed most of her bratty teenage years, he’d also missed her turning into a bright, beautiful—if stubborn—young woman.
Still, he argued, “You’d be better off forgetting.”
“How can I?” Some of that bright, stubborn streak showed in her relentlessly cheerful tone. “You’re my big brother.”
“Summer—”
“I think it’s awesome that you’ve started the rescue, and I don’t know why you won’t let me visit. You know I’m good with horses and love to ride. I could be a big help.”
“Forget it.” Even if he believed her, his half sister’s offer came with big strings attached to his stepfather’s fat wallet. And Jarrett refused to take a single penny from the man for the rescue or the ranch.
“Oh, all right.” Summer huffed but gave up easier than he’d expected—and without the usual attempt to try to get him to reconcile with their mother. “But we’ll talk later, okay?”
The eagerness in her voice made him feel like a heel, so what else could he say? “Yeah, okay.”
Still, he couldn’t help feeling as if he’d opened a rusty, rotting can of worms just with that simple agreement. Slipping the phone back into his pocket, he turned to see that Theresa had wandered a few feet away to pet Duke. Far enough not be intrusive, but not so far, he was willing to bet, that she hadn’t overheard every word.
She didn’t bother to deny it as their gazes met. “Demanding girlfriend?” she asked, a faintly mocking tone entering her voice.
“Half sister.” He blurted out the truth before he had time to stop and consider that he might be better off letting Theresa believe he had a girlfriend. Or seven.
“Oh.” Faint color highlighted her cheeks as she seemed to realize what she’d given away.
Jarrett fought the urge to let loose a curse. Bad enough having to deal with his own attraction. Add in the awareness that the desire he felt wasn’t one-sided, and he wondered why they were even fighting what was already starting to feel inevitable. The reasons were there, but he wasn’t thinking of them as he moved close enough to smell the spring-flower scent of her shampoo, close enough to see the subtle rise in her chest as she breathed and hear the catch in her throat.
“So, you, um, you and your sister aren’t close?”
Jarrett abruptly reared back. That was a quick enough way to douse the heated moment between them. Talking about his family— He made it a point not to talk about them. Or to them as best he could manage.
If only Summer would take the hint.
“Half sister,” he corrected. “And that depends.”
“On what?”
“On whether you’re asking me or asking Summer,” he said wryly. “But no,” he added when he saw the question still lingering in Theresa’s gaze. “We’re not close.”
“Oh.” There was that word again. Only this time instead of being accompanied by a charming and attractive blush, a puzzled frown pulled at her dark eyebrows. As if she couldn’t imagine someone not being close to family.
Just another way their lives differed. Just another reason to keep his distance.
* * *
She couldn’t figure him out.
Over the next few days, Theresa tried her best to remind herself it wasn’t her job to try. She wasn’t staying at the cabin to solve the mystery of Jarrett Deeks. If anything, her fascination was likely some form of transference. She didn’t want to think about the problems in her own life, so her mind instead focused on the complicated former rodeo star. He was a good-looking distraction, and she was a sucker to let herself get pulled in.
Not that he’d done anything to encourage her. Just the opposite. Following the phone conversation she’d overheard—or more accurately, shamelessly eavesdropped on—she’d tried to get Jarrett to open up about his sister. But other than his initial comment that the two of them weren’t close, he hadn’t said a word.
Not close. Theresa supposed that was putting things mildly considering the change she’d seen come over him while he talked on the phone. The calm and ease he displayed with the horses disappeared. Tension had pulled at his shoulders, straightened his spine and tightened his expression into a remote mask. Even his voice had changed, flattened, as if his normal tone might reveal too much.
For some reason, as she watched him, she’d thought of the kids who were brought into the emergency room. Oh, sure, some of them were screamers determined to let everyone know how unhappy they were with whatever injury or illnesses had landed them there. But other children screwed their eyelids shut and kept as still and silent as possible, almost disappearing into themselves, as if that could make the pain go away.
“Not your business,” Theresa muttered beneath her breath as she walked toward the stables. She shoved her hands into the pockets of her hoodie sweatshirt, her tennis shoes crunching on the dirt path. She wasn’t there to heal Jarrett Deeks, whatever his wounds might be.
Pulling in a deep breath of the cool, pine-scented air as the building came into view between the trees, she took a quick inventory of her vital signs. Her pulse was elevated, but only slightly, and she didn’t feel nearly as winded as she had just a day or two before. Each time she walked to and from the cabin, the trip seemed easier. Maybe it was simply that enough time had passed since the accident for her to start regaining strength. Maybe it was just the increased activity that kept her muscles from tightening up.
Either way, she couldn’t deny that Jarrett was helping her.
Along with the physical activity, Theresa had incorporated some of her therapy into her work at the stables. Using her left hand to brush the horses or feed them a slice or two of apple, trying to encourage the damaged nerves to work again. It was far easier, she decided, to practice the simple movements for the horses’ benefit than for her therapist, who watched with a trained, assessing gaze, or in front of her family, who couldn’t keep their concern from showing. The animals didn’t care how many times the brush awkwardly slipped from her hand or how many attempts it took to pick up a single apple slice—though Duke had tried to help her out by stealing the fruit straight from the plastic bag.
Her steps slowed as she neared the stables and caught sight of Jarrett with a new arrival. Unlike the first time she’d seen him at work, racing Silverbelle around the circle, this morning he and his latest rescue were both simply milling about in the corral. Or at least that was how it appeared until she eased close enough to hear the low rumble of Jarrett’s voice. She was too far away to hear more than an indistinct murmur, but the words didn’t matter.
The horse’s ears flickered, its gaze still wary while tracking Jarrett’s movements. For the longes
t time, the stalemate seemed unbreakable. But Jarrett never hurried, never pushed for more. Even from across the paddock, she could see the ease in his body language, lulling the horse—lulling her—into a relaxed state. She could feel her guard lowering and that sense of attraction growing.
Jarrett’s quiet confidence was about the sexiest thing she’d ever seen. Her mouth quickly went dry, and she forced herself to swallow as she watched the masculine grace in his broad shoulders, leanly muscled arms and denim-clad legs. He was dressed the same as every time she’d seen him—jeans, a button-down shirt and his tan Stetson riding low on his forehead. The typical uniform of cowboys and country guys all over, and yet she couldn’t imagine it fitting another man better.
The brim of his hat hid most of his features, but that only added an air of mystery. And besides, she already knew just how handsome his rugged face was with his wide brow, deep-set eyes and stubborn, beard-shadowed jaw.
She’d pictured that face far too many times over the past several days.
Her breath caught as the horse took a sudden step, not moving away but walking toward the man in the corral. She had to stop herself from taking that same step, freezing in place as she watched the horse duck its head and take a piece of carrot from Jarrett’s palm. He ran his free hand down the length of the horse’s neck, and Theresa felt goose bumps race over her skin. If Jarrett turned that easy charm on her, she had no doubt she’d be eating out of his hand in no time, too.
Then as quickly as the moment happened, it was over. The horse tossed its head and retreated to the other side of the corral, and Jarrett sauntered away, both willing to pretend nothing momentous had just taken place. But Theresa wasn’t fooled. She knew how hard that first step could be.
She braced her weakened knees as he turned toward her, half wishing she could blame the noodly muscles on the accident. Her pulse picked up its pace as he closed the gate behind him and headed her way. “Morning.”
“H-hi.” Theresa cleared her voice of the embarrassing catch in her throat and tried again. “How’s she coming along?”
Jarrett glanced over his shoulder at the mare. “Just fine. She’ll need another few days, but after that, I expect she’ll settle in.”
“Chloe told me she has another riding lesson this afternoon.” The girl’s enthusiasm for horses was infectious, erasing all of Theresa’s misgivings about spending time at the stables. Instead of serving as a reminder of all that she couldn’t do, her time was filled with dozens of little tasks that she could manage. Chores needed to be done, and she honestly didn’t know how Jarrett had handled it all himself before hiring the teenager.
“After yesterday, today should be a piece of cake.”
Theresa laughed at Jarrett’s wry tone. Yesterday he’d catered to an eight-year-old’s birthday party—half a dozen little girls with far more excitement and enthusiasm than ability. Which wouldn’t have been so bad if that lack hadn’t included an inability to pay attention. Within the first few minutes, the group had scattered—some racing toward the corral, others toward the stables and a shier few hanging back with the harried mothers who’d driven them.
Theresa hadn’t known what to expect from Jarrett. Sheer panic had been one guess. Irritation another. Instead, with a somewhat resigned sigh, he’d asked Chloe to supervise the girls who’d taken off for the stables while he kept an eye and made sure none of the others slipped through the bars and into the corral. He ignored the timid ones—at least at first.
Like with his horses, he seemed to understand the kids needed time to explore at their own pace, some galloping full speed around the paddock, while others were afraid to leave the trailer. Eventually, though, he made his way over to the shy little girls. He held out a bag of sliced apples, letting them each take two—one to eat and the other to feed to one of the horses.
And that was all the encouragement they needed. Wide-eyed apprehension dissolved into happy giggles as a pair of sweet, old mares lipped the apples slices from the girls’ palms. After that, the whole group was eager to gather around Jarrett, take turns feeding the horses and listen as he explained the rules of riding.
She’d been more charmed than she wanted to admit, seeing the rugged rancher surrounded by little girls. It was like trying to picture Clint Eastwood in his younger, spaghetti-Western days overseeing a sleepover. Almost impossible to imagine if she hadn’t witnessed it for herself.
But she didn’t think she could or should tell him how he’d impressed her. It was too close to admitting how attracted she was to him. Too close to revealing how much she wished he’d kissed her the other day and how many times that brief moment had crossed her mind.
She’d done her best to deny it and when that failed, to ignore it. She’d purposely worn apparel fitting for working in the stables, kept her hair pulled back in a low ponytail and didn’t bother with makeup. It was how she’d looked the first day she arrived and changing now, well, it wasn’t as if she could say she’d done it for the horses’ benefit.
So she knew she looked about as attractive as a washed-out old dishrag, but she refused to give in. And as much as she wanted to believe it was all about pride, right at that moment, with Jarrett standing just a few feet away as they stepped into the shadowy interior of the stables, she thought maybe it was closer to self-preservation.
If she admitted her attraction to the tough rancher, she’d be that much more likely to give in to it...
Searching her mind for something she could say, she responded, “Chloe was really good with them.”
“Figured she would be.”
Theresa had to smile at the straightforward statement. No overwhelming praise from Jarrett—just an unquestioning confidence in the young girl. And in himself. He was the kind of man who made a decision and lived with it—no second thoughts.
And no second chances?
Memories of the past jabbed at her, forcing their way into the present, into this moment. Even before the accident, Michael had a reserve, a caution she’d always attributed to being a father raising a young daughter single-handedly. But since their split, she’d had time to recognize that shell may well have been a part of his character—an impenetrable wall she would have spent years banging her head against if not for the car crash.
As much as Theresa wanted to believe Michael and Jarrett were as different inside as they were outwardly, she wasn’t so certain. Surely, she’d learned her lesson when it came to keeping her distance from the strong, silent type.
Judging by the leap in her pulse when she stopped to face Jarrett, it was a lesson she was in danger of failing a second time. “You figured, huh?”
Theresa tried to inject a teasing note into her voice, but the words came out huskier than she’d intended. With Jarrett standing close enough for her to feel the heat from his body, close enough for her to breathe in the woodsy, masculine scent of him, close enough that she had to tip her head back ever so slightly to see the heat in his green-gold eyes, she was lucky to get the words past the sudden dryness in her throat at all.
“Yep. That’s what I figured.” His gaze dropped to her lips, and Theresa’s breath caught just as it had a few days before when they stood in almost this same spot and she’d wondered what it would be like if he kissed her.
This time she barely had a chance to wonder, barely had a chance to react, when he ducked his head and stole a quick kiss. Her surprised gasp was still stuck in her throat as he was already pulling away, her body swaying toward his, seeking out more of what that brief kiss promised.
“Just like I figured you’d taste like apples.” Jarrett’s voice was as rough as the roads leading to the cabin, adding another dimension to the words as the sound scraped against raw nerve endings. “A little tart, but mostly sweet. Turns out I was right about that, too.”
Chapter Six
“So...” Debbie Mattson’s blue eyes gleame
d as she leaned forward across the small table. “Tell us what it’s like living with Jarrett Deeks.”
“I’m staying in one of his cabins, Debbie,” Theresa said, even as she hoped the bar’s dim lighting would hide the heat rising in her cheeks. “It’s not like I’ve moved in with the guy.”
“Close enough.” The blonde baker lifted her shoulders in a shrug. “You’re there, he’s there...”
“Yes, I’m there—in my cabin—and I don’t even know where Jarrett sleeps.” Although it wouldn’t have totally surprised her to discover he had a cot somewhere in the stables. Unless he was out on a trail ride, he didn’t ever seem to be anywhere else.
Darcy clicked her tongue, hiding a smile as she shot Kara and Sophia a knowing glance. “And don’t you wish you did?”
“Okay, stop or you’re going to make me regret coming out tonight!”
Tonight, as it turned out, was Debbie’s bachelorette party. With the wedding a week away, her future sisters-in-law, Darcy, Kara and Sophia, were taking the bride-to-be out for her last night on the town as a free woman. Debbie had chosen a restaurant in nearby Redfield, a place where she’d attended a singles’ event a few months ago. She’d been looking to meet a handsome stranger to sweep her off her feet—but the real magic of that night had happened when she ran into Drew and started to fall for her good friend.
Theresa had been happy to join them for the party. She’d gotten to know Darcy and Kara when she’d visited in the days before their weddings and had hung out with Debbie years ago when she’d spent summer vacations with her relatives. She’d practically jumped at the chance to escape the quiet cabin and enjoy a girls’ night out, but she was beginning to wonder if going to The High Tide was such a good idea. The restaurant had a touristy vibe with fishing nets, wooden oars and large, mounted fish dangling from the walls as part of the decor. The place was known for its seafood, but Theresa had the feeling her cousin and her friends were more interested in grilling her.
Romancing the Rancher (The Pirelli Brothers) Page 6