Oh, yeah. I’m definitely in trouble.
Chapter Thirteen
Settling back into the white plastic lawn chair LeeAnn had pulled out from a small shed right behind the house, Jonah took a long pull on the Shiner beer her cousin Sami had handed him and let his gaze drift across the backyard.
But not to LeeAnn.
Not immediately, anyway.
Instead, he watched as people came around from where they parked their cars, clearly comfortable making their way to the backyard without anyone to guide them. Obviously, this kind of get-together was fairly common among her friends.
He’d helped Sami drag a Styrofoam ice chest over to the enormous black grill and pull out various packages wrapped in butcher paper. Then another woman brought around some sort of wire mesh that stretched across half of the bottom shelf of the grill. She and Sami carefully unwrapped the meat and set it out to cook on the lowest shelf, while a third friend took care of brushing it with some sort of spice-and-oil mix.
From the conversation he overheard as he helped monitor the mesquite wood he added to the grill, he ascertained that LeeAnn wanted the meat and the vegetables cooked separately.
She’s a vegetarian? Figures.
Still, she wasn’t complaining about the other people at the party having steak. Even now, the beautiful yoga instructor was nodding at something Sami said, and taking over for the woman brushing barbecue sauce over the meat.
Willing to prepare food she refused to eat, only to please her guests?
What does that say about what truly matters to her?
Jonah finished off the Shiner and switched the empty bottle to his injured hand so he could leverage himself out of the chair. He moved toward the recycling bin LeeAnn had set out around the side of the house nearest the grill two hours earlier, right after she finished cleaning and bandaging his wound.
She had insisted on taking care of him herself, her fingers gently probing the deep scratch as she ran it under warm water in the kitchen.
Part of him had wanted to insist that the cut wasn’t that bad—but the part that was enjoying the attention won out as he watched the way she tilted her head and peered at his wrist.
The touch of her hands on his skin had sent a frisson of electricity up his arm, even as the soap and water burned against the gash in his skin.
As he bent over to set the bottle in the green bin, LeeAnn’s voice floated over him as she quizzed Sami in near whispers. “Wait. Your boss is your boyfriend?”
“He was.” Sami’s tone was more than a little defensive.
“Your boyfriend is married?” The whisper turned to a hiss as LeeAnn injected the last word with a cross of horror and disgust.
“I didn’t know.” Sami sounded close to tears.
I don’t want to hear this.
But he couldn’t bring himself to stop listening.
“Oh, sweetie.” LeeAnn’s voice turned gentle. “You’ve got to stop falling for your bosses. This is what? Number three? It never turns out well. You trust too easily.”
“I can’t be like you, never trusting anyone at all.”
“That’s not true.” LeeAnn sounded more shocked than upset by the claim. “I trust people all the time. I trust you completely.” A slight pause made the next comment less believable than it might have been otherwise. “I trusted Darrell.”
Sami snorted. “No, you didn’t. You chose him because he was so clearly untrustworthy, he was bound to prove you right. You think you can’t trust anyone but yourself.”
Jonah rocked back on his heels, so absorbed in hearing what LeeAnn said next that he almost forgot he was eavesdropping.
He wished he could see LeeAnn’s face. What was her reaction to her cousin’s claims?
But she didn’t reply.
“I’m sorry,” Sami said. “You don’t need this, me psychoanalyzing you when you’re dealing with a breakup.”
LeeAnn’s strained shrug came through her voice. “What I don’t need is Darrell—he’s a jackass. So is your boss.”
“I wouldn’t need anyone, either, if I had that new guy on the string. He is hot.” Sami ended her pronouncement with a hissing, sizzling noise, following LeeAnn’s lead back to lighter conversation.
“I don’t have anyone on a string,” LeeAnn said. “Jonah Hamilton is out to make money by destroying the ranchland—nothing else. I wouldn’t have invited him tonight if he hadn’t been here when you called.”
Even though he already knew what she thought of him, for some reason, her stark evaluation of his motives sent a spike of pain through him.
That’s what I get for eavesdropping.
Jonah rattled the bottles in the bin against one another until they clinked loudly enough to announce his presence, then stood up straight and moved around the corner of the house into the backyard. Peering over the top of the grill, he took a deep, appreciative breath of the fragrant mesquite smoke—mostly in order to give the two women time to gather their composure. “So,” he said, casually, “what do you suggest?”
Only when LeeAnn answered did he look up at them. “The grilled zucchini,” she said. “I’ll be putting it out to cook in about five more minutes.”
“No way,” Sami said, bumping her cousin with her hip. “I think the pork loin is best.” Her smile was strained as she aimed for a light tone. “But don’t tell anyone, okay? Good Texas girls are supposed to prefer steak.”
“Not that you’re a good Texas girl,” LeeAnn said, raising one eyebrow. Sami gasped, then, catching the upward quirk of the yoga instructor’s lip, huffed out a laugh and shook her head.
As he turned to leave, Jonah saw LeeAnn reach down to squeeze her cousin’s hand in a gesture of support.
Good. Family matters. Especially when they need you.
Not that LeeAnn’s values were important to him.
He was here to do a job, get his promotion, and move on. It was fine to be needed by family, but he didn’t need anyone. He sure didn’t need a neo-hippie-chick vegetarian. Even if she was beautiful and kind.
I am in no way invested in LeeAnn Walker.
And he could keep telling himself that.
Right up to the point that he arranged for Natural Shale to come drill on her land. That, he feared, would break her heart.
So what are my values?
He shook his head to dislodge the question and moved toward a small group of people LeeAnn had introduced him to when they first arrived.
Before this job, he had been fine. He had known what was important to him—doing the job he was hired to do, moving forward in his career.
Had that changed since he had hired LeeAnn to work with him?
What really matters to me?
And why am I just now asking that question?
…
LeeAnn circulated through the party, speaking to her guests, refilling drinks, offering to take empty plates and cups. But by the time it was completely dark, she had pulled up a chair next to Sami at the fire pit, planning to take a few moments to relax.
She really wanted to quiz Sami more about the situation with her boss, but the close call with Jonah earlier had convinced her it was a bad idea—she knew her cousin wouldn’t want anyone to know that she had been tricked into having an illicit affair.
So instead, she stared contemplatively into the fire dancing in front of her until the sweep of headlights turning into her driveway snagged her attention. “Think that’s Kylie and Cole?” she asked Sami.
“No. Kylie said she didn’t think they’d make it. Sounded like they had other plans.” Sami smirked as she downed the last of one of the tiny bottles of moscato wine she had brought. The firelight glinted off the several necklaces she wore layered over a purple sixties-style mod dress and black leggings.
Setting her own beer down on the grass beside her chair, LeeAnn stood. “I’ll see who it is—be back in a minute.” Sami waved an acknowledgment and pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees.
&nb
sp; I can’t believe Sami’s jerk of a boss is married.
Or that my boyfriend was engaged to someone else.
Had Jonah really overheard their conversation at the grill, or was she worrying about nothing?
Why would it matter if he did hear me talking about him? It’s not like he doesn’t know what I think of him.
But as she rounded the corner of the house toward the front drive, she found herself considering the possibility that her opinion of Jonah Hamilton might have begun to change.
So what do I really think of him?
Any possible answer to that question was wiped out of her mind when she saw who was climbing out of the silver SUV at the back of the informally parked cars scattered across the yard.
Darrell Vincent.
What is that lying, cheating jerk doing here?
…
Jonah only half listened to the tall redhead talking to him about the value of proper breathing—a friend of LeeAnn’s from the yoga studio, he assumed. She was nice enough, and any other time he would probably be flirting. But somewhat to his surprise, he wasn’t interested in anything she had to offer.
So would I be willing to pay attention to LeeAnn talking about breathing techniques? Yes. Absolutely.
His answer surprised him in its vehemence. He had to fight the urge to shake his head in dismay—it wouldn’t be polite to the woman in front of him.
Ah, Hamilton. You dumbass. You heard LeeAnn—she thinks you’re only out for cash.
Where was she, anyway? Several moments before, he had seen her stand up and head toward the front of the house. But she hadn’t returned.
He smiled politely at the redhead, waiting for a break in the conversation. “Excuse me,” he said, touching her forearm to soften any possible offense. “I need to go check on our hostess.”
The woman—Hannah? Anna? Something like that—smiled thinly but nodded. “Of course.”
He heard LeeAnn’s voice as he rounded the corner. “You’re not invited,” she was saying. “Get back in your car and go away.”
From behind, LeeAnn’s entire body radiated tension, her muscles bunched as if preparing for flight. A man stood close to her, his sandy brown hair flopped forward to obscure his face as he spoke in a low rumble. Jonah couldn’t make out the words, but he recognized the tone—wheedling.
“Everything okay here?” Jonah asked, stepping forward and tilting his hat back a little.
When the man glanced up, Jonah recognized him from the newspaper.
Darrell Vincent. The dumbass who dumped her.
LeeAnn turned around, and Vincent took the opportunity to slip his arm around her waist and pull her in close to him. She flinched away but didn’t pull herself entirely out of his grip.
“Everything’s fine,” Vincent said.
Jonah shook his head. “Don’t think so, man. I heard the lady say you weren’t invited.”
“This has nothing to do with you,” Vincent said. “It’s between me and the lady. Go on back to the party. Get lost.”
At the ugly emphasis in Vincent’s tone, LeeAnn stepped away from him at last. Jonah didn’t take his gaze off his opponent, but out of the corner of his eye, he saw her lift up one leg and wrap it around behind the other, then thread her arms around one another and clasp her hands together under her chin. Balancing on one foot, she stared at them with wide eyes.
This creep has her literally twisted up over him.
A cold rage filled Jonah at the thought, wiping out all other considerations. His hands balled into fists, and the rest of the world dropped away as he took a steady, threatening step toward the idiot who had hurt LeeAnn.
…
As Jonah paced steadily forward to loom over Darrell, LeeAnn dropped her foot to the ground and stood planted, as if she were one of the pecan trees in the old grove out in the eastern pasture.
I am absolutely opposed to violence.
So what if a thrill ran through a tiny piece of her heart at the idea of Jonah stepping in to protect her from Darrell?
It doesn’t matter.
I have to stop them.
The expression on Jonah’s face almost kept her from intervening. It was like nothing she’d seen from him before—dark, forbidding, violent.
He continued to move forward as Darrell scrambled back, the smaller man not quite willing to take his eyes off the menace striding toward him.
Jonah moves like a predator.
In all their interactions, his movements had been controlled and deliberate—designed, she now suspected, to put her at ease.
Is this what he’s like underneath the dimples and charm?
His gaze on Darrell remained fierce and intense.
Dangerous.
At the thought, a shiver ran down her spine, even as she hurried to step between them, turning her back to Darrell and placing a palm lightly on Jonah’s chest.
“Please don’t.” Her voice came out steady and strong, though quiet.
At least I don’t sound as shaky as I feel.
Jonah paused, but he didn’t take his gaze off his quarry. “He needs to leave.”
“I agree.” With her other hand, she risked reaching down and grasping one of his bunched fists, even as she realized that he could crush her in an instant.
He would never hurt me.
The thought came unbidden, but strong and certain. Releasing his fist, she skimmed her hand up his arm and placed her fingers against one cheek until he glanced down at her. His navy blue eyes churned with anger.
“He’s going.” Holding Jonah’s gaze with her own, she said more loudly, “You’re leaving, Darrell.”
The only answer was the slam of the SUV’s door. At the sound of the engine starting, LeeAnn risked turning around to watch Darrell drive away. Heat rolled off Jonah, swirling around and up her back.
Part of her wanted to lean into that heat, certain that Jonah would wrap his arms around her.
Protect me.
She shivered.
No violence, she reminded herself. It had no place in her life.
Neither does Jonah Hamilton.
As she moved away from the beckoning warmth of his body to head back to the party, she realized both that she was shaking and that the short altercation had drawn an audience from the partygoers.
“Sami,” she said, her voice thin and strained, “make sure the fire is out before everyone leaves?”
Her cousin’s brows drew down as her gaze flicked from LeeAnn to Jonah and back. “Of course. You need anything from me?”
“Just make sure everything’s put away when the party breaks up.” She drew in a deep breath and straightened her shoulders.
“Sure,” Sami said as LeeAnn headed inside the house, suddenly too exhausted to try to be a good hostess. It was Sami’s party anyway.
And LeeAnn had a lot to consider.
He’s not really Superman in a cowboy hat.
He’s the enemy, not my protector.
But her hand trembled as she gripped the doorknob, and she could feel Jonah’s troubled gaze on her through the closed door behind her.
She stayed awake long after the glow from the fire had been extinguished and the last guest car had pulled away, the headlights sweeping across her bedroom wall. She couldn’t be falling for the man who had come to destroy everything she loved.
Could I?
Chapter Fourteen
Swiping her bangs off her forehead, LeeAnn sighed, then bent back over the box she had opened. From across the attic at the top of the farmhouse, Jonah watched her for a minute. “Anything interesting?” he asked.
“No.” She sounded discouraged. “Another bunch of old magazines. Day three of searching, and not a single thing about mineral rights or drilling.”
When he had arrived at the ranch that morning, LeeAnn made no mention of the party the night before, so he had followed her lead—despite an almost overwhelming urge to explain his actions.
But what could he say? Sorry, but I needed to murd
er your ex with my bare hands? No. That would never do. He couldn’t explain it to her.
I can’t even explain it to myself.
He’d spent most of the silent ride back to town in Sami’s old Audi trying to figure out what had come over him, and he still didn’t know why—he only knew that when he saw that jackass Darrell, the urge to protect LeeAnn swelled up in a primal rush of feeling, overwhelming every rational thought.
It was the kind of emotional response that couldn’t be expressed in words.
So that leaves work as usual.
Fine. I can do that.
“How old?” He made his way toward her through the narrow path they had created amid the boxes.
“The magazines? Thirties and forties, mostly.” She pulled out a stack and thumped them to the floor, then flipped through the covers. “Yeah. A few from the fifties.” Another sigh sent up a small flurry of dust, and she sneezed. “As long as we’re up here, we might as well start hauling some of this junk out.” A quick survey of the attic left her shaking her head. “Or maybe hire a bulldozer.”
As Jonah leaned over her shoulder to check out the pile of magazines, she reached up to straighten her ponytail, leaving streaks of dust in her hair and wafting the smell of her apple-scented shampoo toward him. He closed his eyes momentarily, trying to think of anything other than her body pressed up against him. Or that kiss in the diner. It didn’t work, of course, but he pushed the thought aside.
“Were you serious when you talked about finding something in all this stuff to sell for your cousins?” he asked.
“Why? Did you find something?” The graceful curve of her neck as she turned her head to look up at him threatened to distract him again.
LeeAnn wiped her forehead with the back of her wrist, brushing several stray blond hairs out of her eyes, but leaving a streak of dust smudged in their place.
It took all of Jonah’s self-control not to gently wipe it away.
Opposing the Cowboy Page 9