Casey tipped an invisible hat to her. “Respect.”
CJ laughed, the sound light and bright, and Jesse felt a distinct tug in his gut as he watched her. Man, she was pretty, with her shiny dark hair and lively brown eyes.
“Heard you had the ride of the day today, CJ,” Jed said as bowls and plates were passed around.
“I got lucky,” she said modestly.
“Luck had nothing to do with it. She’s got natural instinct like you wouldn’t believe,” Jesse said.
“You still going to say that when she beats you tomorrow?” Casey asked.
Jesse caught CJ’s eye across the table. “See what I mean about the loyalty?”
“Jesse’s second on the leaderboard. He’s got a good draw for tomorrow, too. It’s anyone’s prize,” CJ said.
“Yeah, but if you win it will be so awesome. The best F-you to that dipshit who vandalized your stuff,” Sierra said. “You can win next week, Jesse,” she added magnanimously.
“Thanks. Appreciate it,” he said dryly.
The conversation roamed far and wide then, from Casey’s gig at the street party last night to how many mares were in foal, to Sierra’s plan to start studying for her commercial helicopter pilot’s license.
“You fly?” CJ asked. “That’s pretty cool.”
“She bugged Jed until he let her start taking lessons when she was eighteen,” Casey said.
“You have no idea how long it took to convince him,” Sierra said.
“You have no idea how expensive those lessons were,” Jed said mildly.
“Think of it as an investment in getting me off your hands,” Sierra said. “I’ve been talking to the Tates’s pilot: Jack. He’s going to help me get my hours up.”
Jesse frowned, then noticed Jed and Casey were wearing the exact same expression. He guessed that like him, they hated the idea that Sierra would be beholden to the Tates for anything. Twelve years ago, Gideon Tate had been driving the SUV that smashed into their parents’ car. He’d been the only one to walk away from the accident alive.
No adverse finding had been made in the subsequent accident investigation, but it had always bugged Jesse that Gideon Tate’s life had seemingly gone on without a hitch after that night, while their family had been devastated.
The silence stretched a little too long, and Sierra’s cheeks turned pink. Jesse guessed that any second now she was going to start defending her decision, and CJ would be playing witness to the Carmody family in full flight.
“Have you—” he said, just as Jed spoke up at the same time.
Jesse gave his older brother a dry look. Apparently they’d both had the brilliant idea of changing the subject at the same time.
“You go,” Jesse said.
“Just wondering whether you’ve got any down time coming up?” Jed asked.
“Not until Christmas. That’s if I don’t get injured,” he replied.
“You given any thought to when you’re going to quit?” Jed asked.
“Not really.” Why would he, when he was doing what he loved for a living and making decent money while he was at it?
“Can’t keep riding bronc forever. Rodeo’s a young guy’s game,” Jed said matter-of-factly.
Jesse felt himself bristle. His brother’s casual dismissal of his life’s passion—his career—was enough to fire Jesse’s temper. He took a long pull from his beer, swallowing the angry words filling his throat.
“You know me—never could get too much of a bad thing,” he finally said.
Jed didn’t say another word, simply reached out to spear himself another piece of chicken.
Jesse was aware of CJ watching him from across the table and he flashed her a quick smile to try to smooth the moment over.
“Hope you cowboys and girls left room for cherry crisp,” Sierra said, starting to stack the now-empty bowls and platters.
“I didn’t, but it doesn’t matter. There is always room for cherry crisp,” Casey said.
Standing, he started to collect plates, and CJ quickly joined him.
Jesse could feel his brother watching him, but he deliberately didn’t look his way. He couldn’t, not right at that moment.
It seemed to him no matter what he did, he’d always get it wrong where Jed was concerned, and it pissed him off to no end that he still gave two shits about his brother’s approval.
It had been eleven years. How long were they going to keep this crap up?
The thought propelled him to his feet. “Might take a walk outside before dessert, try to make some room.”
He didn’t give anyone a chance to respond, simply headed for the door.
Chapter Seven
There was a profound, heavy silence after Jesse had left the room. CJ fought the need to fill it with pointless chatter. Clearly there was something heavy going on between Jesse and his older brother, Jed, but her rabbiting on with small talk was not going to help anything.
Instead, she concentrated on scraping off plates and stacking them into the dishwasher in the Carmodys’ simple country-style kitchen.
After a moment, Sierra started talking about someone CJ guessed must be a neighbor, teasing monosyllabic responses from Jed, who seemed to have retreated inside himself after the exchange with Jesse.
CJ studied him covertly as she worked, wondering about the worry lines around his eyes and mouth. She knew from something Sierra had said that he was only a year older than Jesse, but looking at his lean, weathered face, she would have guessed at the difference being five years, minimum. She’d pieced together enough from what Sierra and Jesse had said to work out he’d essentially stepped into the parental role when their parents were killed.
She wondered what he’d had to give up to do that. He must have had dreams, ambitions, hopes of his own. But instead he’d found himself the only person holding his family together when he’d barely qualified as an adult himself. He’d done a good job, too—this was clearly a family of people who liked each other. And yet all through the meal there had been a buzz of tension, a tautness vibrating beneath the digs and laughs and teasing, as though a whole other conversation was going on beneath the fun and lightness.
None of your business, Cooper.
It so wasn’t. Not even close. But her gaze kept straying to the kitchen window, trying to catch sight of Jesse. She’d seen his face when Jed so calmly predicted the end of his rodeo career. He’d looked as though he’d been slapped—but only for a split second. If she’d blinked, she would have missed his wounded reaction. She’d seen the regret in Jed’s eyes afterward, too. The way his jaw had gotten tight and his hands had clenched around his knife and fork.
If they were her brothers, she’d knock their heads together and tell them to damn well talk to each other. But they weren’t, and she wasn’t about to start throwing advice around. It wasn’t as though she was an expert on family harmony—look at the way things were between her and her father right now.
Which reminded her—he still hadn’t called. She pulled her phone out and checked to make sure she hadn’t missed a message. Nope, nothing.
Which probably meant he wasn’t going to call at all. To say she was disappointed was an understatement, but she set her feelings aside for later. Now was not the time or place to get messy over her own complicated home life.
It was another ten minutes before Jesse returned to the house, bringing the scent of the cool night air with him. He met her eyes and smiled slightly, then threw himself into helping serve up dessert. Conversation stayed on safe subjects as everyone spooned up mouthfuls of Sierra’s delicious cherry crisp, served with rich vanilla ice cream.
“I got this round,” Jesse said when CJ stood to clear the table a second time.
“That first lot of clothes should be close to dry now. I was thinking you might want to grab a shower?” Sierra said, catching CJ’s eye across the table.
The thought of hot water and clean clothes was enough to make CJ weep.
“That would be pretty fantastic, actually
,” she admitted.
“Then let’s hook you up,” Sierra said.
As Sierra had predicted, her first load of clothes were dry, and the second load ready to transfer. That task completed, CJ selected clean underwear, a T-shirt and jeans, and followed Sierra through the living room to a hallway that branched into the left side of the house.
She hadn’t had much of a chance to look around since she arrived, and she did a quick scan of the living room as they walked through. The room’s focus was an enormous stone-clad fireplace boasting a rough-hewn timber mantel scattered with photo frames. Two large sofas and an armchair in worn tobacco-brown leather were arranged in front of the fire, with a coffee table groaning with magazines, books and newspapers positioned between them. Jackets were strewn over the back of the couch, and a couple of empty mugs crowned the stacks on the coffee table.
“Don’t look at the mess,” Sierra said, waving a hand at the coffee table. “Just pretend it isn’t there, like a good guest.”
“This isn’t messy,” CJ said. “My closet is messy. You could perform surgery in here by comparison.”
“I know you’re just saying that to make me feel better, but I’ll take it,” Sierra said.
She led CJ down the hallway past a couple of open doorways. The first was clearly Casey’s room, easily distinguishable because of the golden-hued acoustic guitar lying on the bed. The next room was neat as a pin, a pair of well-worn cowboy boots lined up side by side next to the bed. The bed was made, and a subtle, familiar scent hung in the air.
Jesse’s room, she guessed. It smelled like him.
Then she frowned, not exactly thrilled she was apparently able to identify the man by his scent barely twenty-four hours after meeting him.
“Here we go,” Sierra said, pushing open the next door. “Towels are beneath the sink. Help yourself to shampoo, whatever. And most importantly, take your time. Oh, and there’s a hair dryer on a hook beside the vanity.”
“Thank you,” CJ said. How lucky was she that she’d met this family?
Sierra gave another dismissive wave before disappearing into the hallway.
CJ shut the door and sat on the edge of the tub to pull off her boots. Her socks were dark with dust from the arena, and she rolled them into a ball and put them to one side, along with the rest of her dirty clothes. The water was almost painfully hot when she stepped beneath it, but that was exactly what she needed and wanted. She sighed with relief as she felt the tightness ease out of her shoulders and hips. After a few minutes, she reached for the soap.
She took Sierra at her word and used her fresh-smelling shampoo, then allowed herself another few minutes of simply luxuriating in the warmth before reluctantly turning the water off. Her skin was very pink in the bathroom mirror, but her muscles felt warm and relaxed for the first time since her ride.
Ten minutes later, she stepped into the hall feeling like a new woman. Her hair was clean and almost dry. She smelled like a civilized person, and she’d washed the grit, sweat and emotion of the day from her body.
Sierra looked up from reading a book when CJ entered the lounge, but there was no sign of any of the Carmody men.
“Jesse and Casey are in the barn, checking on one of the pregnant mares, and Jed’s in his office,” Sierra explained. “Make yourself a coffee if you like, and we can watch TV or a movie if you’re up for it?”
“To be honest, I’m probably just going to crash out. It’s been a big day.”
“You must be ten different types of pooped,” Sierra said sympathetically.
The photos on the mantel caught CJ’s eye and she stepped closer to check them out. The first was of a good-looking young couple, the man dark and tall and green eyed, the woman smaller, blonde and blue eyed. They stood with their arms around each other, their clothes smudged with dirt and sweat, the timber frame of a house reaching into the sky behind them.
“Is that this place?” CJ asked.
“Yep. You can’t tell, but Mom’s four months pregnant with Jed in that picture.” Sierra came to stand beside her. “And that’s Jed on his first horse. And that’s Jesse practicing his roping.”
CJ homed in on the picture of Jesse, who looked to be about five or six. She smiled at his earnest expression and the tension in his small frame as he gave everything he had to try to lasso a fence post. She’d seen the same look on his face today when he was preparing for his ride—equal parts focus and determination, with a hefty dose of stubbornness thrown in for good measure.
“He was a cute little critter. They all were. Whereas I…” Sierra slid a frame along the mantel toward CJ, her expression chagrined.
It held a photograph of a gangly little girl whose head seemed too big for her body. CJ guessed Sierra must have been at least four or five when the picture was taken, but her head was still covered in soft-looking baby down instead of hair, and her smile revealed two teeth missing front and center of the top row.
“Awww. You’re adorable,” CJ said.
“Come on. That is a face only a mother could love,” Sierra said. “Can you believe I didn’t grow a full head of hair until I was six years old? Sometimes Mother Nature is a stone-cold bitch.”
CJ tried not to laugh but Sierra’s richly disgusted tone made it hard not to.
There was a picture of Casey as a child, too, squinting off into the distance, a faraway look in his eye. And one last family portrait, Mrs. Carmody wearing a proud smile as her husband and her tall, summer-brown children overshadowed her. Jed was grinning, while Jesse looked slightly bored and pissed off, as though he had better things to do. Casey had Sierra in a brotherly headlock, but it was clear Sierra loved it.
“That was the last picture of all of us together,” Sierra said. “They died about a week later. Head-on collision on the road into town.”
She dusted the top of the frame with the flat of her hand, one side of her mouth pulled tight.
“Jesse told me about your parents. It must have been a terrible time,” CJ said.
“It was. The weird thing is I can’t remember many of the details. Just the feeling, the sense that the world had changed and would never be right again.”
CJ didn’t know what to say, so she didn’t say anything, and after a moment Sierra gave a rueful smile.
“Okay, enough of that. Maybe we should have hot chocolates instead of coffees?”
“Don’t s’pose there’d be any bourbon lying around that we could throw in there?” CJ asked hopefully.
“Lady, we have three different types of bourbon. Come take your pick.”
They were in the kitchen chatting and finishing their drinks when the dryer beeped to signal its cycle was complete.
“You need a hand with any of that?” Sierra asked.
“Thanks, but I’m good.” CJ turned to go, then thought of something. “You wouldn’t have a bag I could borrow? I had to throw my duffel away, it was so disgusting. I could get the bag back to you tomorrow once I get a chance to buy something new in town.”
“Let me have a look. I’m pretty sure I’ve got an old duffel bag you can have. I haven’t used it for years.”
Sierra headed off to search out the bag, and CJ started pulling the still-warm clothes from the dryer. They smelled fresh and clean, all traces of this afternoon’s misadventures washed away.
If only she could wash away the memory as easily. It would be a long time before she forgot the sense of fear, disgust and, yes, hurt that had hit her when she’d opened the door and discovered what Dean Maynard had done to her belongings. Never in her life had she been on the receiving end of so much calculated malice—and all because she’d dared to put her hand up to compete in the same arena as a bunch of men.
She could feel herself getting tense and worked up again, so she concentrated on folding everything neatly, focusing on lining up hems and smoothing folds. The warm, homey smell of freshly dried clothes and the calm, repetitive work went a long way to restoring her calm. She’d just started on a tangle of under
wear when she looked up to find Jesse filling the doorway.
“Hey. How’s it all going? Find everything you need?” he asked.
“All done, thank you. Your sister has been amazing.”
“She’s all right,” Jesse said, putting on a show of reluctance at being forced to compliment his sibling.
She couldn’t hide her smile. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell her you said that.”
“I’d deny it anyway.” He moved closer, propping a hip against the washing machine and crossing his arms over his chest. “Sure you don’t want to rethink the Airstream? Give me a last chance to be chivalrous?”
“I’m not taking your bed, Jesse,” she said firmly.
“In that case, you want me to take you out there, give you the grand tour?”
“Sierra said she’d do all that. But thanks for the offer.”
Also, call her crazy, but she was pretty sure it would be a dumb idea to be alone in a small private space with this man. Especially a small, private space with a bed in it.
“Okay, then I guess I’ll hit the hay. Unless there’s anything else you need?”
His gaze scanned the room as though looking for a task that needed completing, finally coming to rest on the colorful pile of lace and satin that was her yet-to-be-folded underwear. She saw the exact moment he understood what he was looking at, felt the oxygen suddenly suck from the room and heat steal up her chest and into her face.
She had a weakness for pretty underwear. She liked bright colors and lace and flirty styles, liked knowing that while she was all sensible denim and cotton and flannel to the world, underneath she had a sexy, lacy, feminine secret—and now Jesse was in on it.
His gaze lifted to her face, and the heat in her cheeks seemed to rush everywhere at once. She’d seen interest in his eyes before. She’d seen awareness. But the way he was looking at her now, the hunger and desire… Her knees literally went weak and she had to reach out a hand to brace herself on the top of the dryer.
She could feel her pulse beating low in her belly, could feel every breath as it slid in and out of her lungs—and still she couldn’t look away from him. She’d told herself to be sensible where this man was concerned so many times this weekend. She’d refused to indulge herself—and yet everything in her still wanted to take the two steps required to close the distance between them.
The Cowboy Meets His Match Page 9