She didn’t even mind that he wasn’t talkative. He reminded her of the heroes in the old Westerns that she’d watched with her father. That her dad had been a sucker for a John Wayne or Gary Cooper yarn was the most human thing about him. Her mother would roll her eyes on that rare free night when he’d fix his martini, pop one of his beloved Westerns in the VHS player, and Jamie would cuddle with him on the couch, watching until she couldn’t keep her eyes open.
Yeah, she liked thinking about Cole as one of those Western heroes. Tall, dark, quiet. He was perfect, sitting there looking sexy with that Stetson brim pulled low. All he needed was a gun belt and a rifle to complete the picture.
Nah, she wasn’t fond of guns. Or God help her, the violent explosion of gunfire.
She closed her eyes, regretting that she’d invited the memory of that horrifying day so long ago, and lifted her face to the sun focusing on her breathing. While it had been too hot earlier, the warmth felt good now, especially with the slight breeze.
“You’re a good rider.”
She opened her eyes and looked at him. “Why the surprise?”
His lips moved a little, probably as close to a smile as she was going to get. “Most of the guests have been beginners.”
“That has to be frustrating.”
“They’re my brother Trace’s problem.”
Jamie grinned.
“I didn’t mean that like it sounded,” he muttered, and squinted in the other direction.
She changed her mind. She didn’t want him retreating into silence again. Distraction was better. “It’s okay. I kind of get that the dude ranch thing was Rachel’s idea.” She paused. “I understand that some people around here aren’t happy about the new business.”
He turned his head sharply toward her. “Where did you hear that?”
“The gas station.”
“Billy?” he asked, frowning.
“He was trying to explain Avery’s attitude.”
“Avery Phelps.” Cole sighed and shook his head. “Nice welcome wagon.”
“Billy was adorable. Avery not so much.”
“What did the old man say to you?”
She shrugged. “I’m used to people like him. I make my living traveling. Wherever there are tourists, there will be Averys who don’t want to share.”
“It’s not about sharing. It’s about change. This is cattle country. Most folks around here want to keep it that way.”
“What about you?”
His jaw tightened. “Just trying to make a living and take care of my family.”
“You aren’t married,” she said too quickly, her gaze going to his hand even though she already knew he wore no ring.
“Nope.”
“Ever been?”
His brown eyes warmed with amusement. “Why?”
She should’ve been embarrassed. She wasn’t normally that blatantly inquisitive about a man. “I’m nosy.”
“That could get you in trouble.”
“Oh, it already has. Many times, actually. I haven’t learned my lesson.”
“I see that.”
She liked that she’d almost made him smile. “So?”
“What?”
“Ever married? Or come close?”
He hesitated. “No.”
Interesting that he’d had to think about it.
“What about you?”
She blinked, unprepared for him to turn the question around. “Not me,” she said emphatically.
“Too busy traveling?”
She shrugged a shoulder and gave him a cheeky smile. “Nobody would have me.”
“Right.” Between his murmured drawl and the lingering gaze that slowly slid away from her body, a shiver raced down her spine.
She wondered if he was aware of the message he’d just sent. She hadn’t imagined it. No way that heated look had been wishful thinking on her part. She breathed in deeply, then tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry.
“Ready to head back?” he asked.
“I thought you had work to do.”
“Not up here,” he said, lifting one brow in obvious amusement. “We irrigate the pasture when necessary.”
“Then what are we doing here?”
“Thought you’d enjoy the view.”
Damn the man. Here she’d thought they were making a little headway. “You figured I couldn’t make the ride uphill and I’d beg you to take me back.”
He lifted his Stetson then resettled it on his head, his gaze trained on the horizon. “You have a mighty suspicious mind.”
She didn’t trust the slow easy smile that curved his mouth. Sure, they’d go back to the Sundance, because she was about ready to kill for a beer or margarita, but he wasn’t getting rid of her. Not this easily.
* * *
COLE DIDN’T KNOW what to make of Jamie. They hadn’t spoken much on the ride back, and he liked that she was more comfortable with silence than any woman he’d ever met. She was different in other ways, too. Nothing he could pinpoint, because he didn’t know her that well yet.
Hell, he wasn’t planning on getting to know her better. No point in it. He wasn’t that interested, and in six days she’d be gone, anyway. He’d made that mistake with his old girlfriend Bella after fooling himself into believing he knew her as well as a man could know a woman. The only thing positive he could say about the outcome was that he’d learned his lesson well. Luckily, he and Bella had worked out a comfortable arrangement and when she occasionally blew back into town for a couple of weeks, the sex was decent with no promises or expectations on either side.
So why was he thinking about Jamie Daniels at all? Why was he hanging around the west barn, catching glimpses of her mingling with the other guests, drinking margaritas and nibbling Hilda’s homemade tortilla chips and salsa?
By the time he’d brushed down and watered Gypsy, he’d told himself it was too late to return to work. A damn lie for sure. With another two and a half hours of daylight left, he could’ve replaced three T-joints before he’d called it a day.
Hearing an engine, he ducked his head out to see the sheriff’s white truck coming up the drive. Between the tinted windshield and the sun’s glare, Cole couldn’t tell if it was Noah or one of his deputies. Either way, this close to supper was an odd time for anyone to call.
He grabbed a rag to wipe his hands, and the sound of feminine laughter coming from the porch had him shaking his head. How could he have forgotten? The deputies were probably here to check out the new batch of guests who’d arrived today. Yep, he thought, sighing, the Sundance was starting to be a mighty busy place.
About to go back inside the barn, he was surprised to see Noah climb out of the truck. They’d been friends since before either one of them could tie their shoes, and Cole knew damn well Noah hadn’t made a special trip to check out the women. He wore his customary jeans and tan uniform shirt. Had to still be working.
Noah spotted him, tugged down his brown Stetson, his attention on the gravel under his boots as he headed toward the barn.
“Hey, Sheriff Calder.” Rachel called to him from the porch, waving to get his attention.
“Evenin’, Rachel.” Noah glanced her way, gave her a polite nod, then set his sights on Cole.
“Would you like to join us for a nice cold beer?”
“Thanks, but I’m on duty.”
“We have iced tea,” Rachel shouted. “Hilda made fresh salsa. Thick and spicy the way you like it.”
Noah gave her a strained smile and a small shake of his head.
Chuckling, Cole watched a dozen women track his progress. A few were sitting on the rockers and the swing, but most of them stood at the railing, staring and showing their teeth. It might’ve looked like a Tupperware party except women around these parts tended not to run around half-naked, getting sunburned and wearing impractical high-heeled sandals.
As soon as Noah was close enough, he gestured with his eyes for them to meet inside the barn.
Try as
he might to resist, Cole slid a parting glance toward Jamie. She wasn’t watching Noah. Her gaze was on Cole. He pretended not to notice and waited inside.
His friend followed him with a scowl on his face.
“What? You don’t like being eyed like a side of prime Angus?” Cole laughed at the hand gesture. “I heard they’re partial to a man in uniform.”
Noah snorted. “What the hell are you hanging around for? Didn’t figure I’d catch you here.”
Cole shrugged. “I took one of the new guests for a ride up to Big Jim Flats and just brought her back.”
“You?” Noah’s tanned face creased in surprise. “Which one?”
“What difference does it make?” Cole grabbed the pitchfork he’d been using and irritably stuck it in the hay. “It was a favor to Rachel.”
“Could’ve sworn you said you were staying out of the business.”
“You drove all the way out here to be a pain in my ass?”
Noah smiled, and from his position in the shadows of the barn door, ducked to get an undetected look at the porch. “I bet it was the blonde in the white shorts.”
“Care to lay down a hundred on that?”
Noah eyed him with new interest, then went back to studying the assortment of ladies. “Can’t be the one in the jeans.”
Cole thought for a moment. Jamie was the only guest with the good sense to be wearing the appropriate clothes. “Where?”
“Right there. Dark blond hair. Real cute. Got a bum leg.”
Cole shouldered his friend aside. Jamie’s hair was dark blond but there was nothing wrong with her leg. He would’ve noticed. “Who are you talking about?”
“She just sat down next to Rachel, but she’s got a bad limp. Hope she didn’t get hurt on your property.”
“Jamie hadn’t been limping,” he murmured, half to himself. “Are you sure?”
“Jamie?”
Cole watched her grimace as she leaned over to take a beer off the tray Hilda had carried out. Rachel patted her arm with concern. Jamie shook her head, and gave a strained smile.
“Christ almighty.” Cole sighed heavily. He understood the problem now, and he was mainly to blame.
Noah gave him a long measuring look. “What’s wrong?”
The guy was more than a good friend, he was like a brother, but Cole wasn’t in the mood to discuss Jamie with him, or anyone. Fortunately, Trace chose the perfect time to step out of the house and onto the porch. He’d changed into clean jeans and his hair was damp from a shower.
Snorting, Cole motioned with his chin. “Look at that.”
Noah chuckled. “Maybe you can get stud fees for the kid.”
“That’s a thought.” Cole grunted. “Hell, might be the only way I’d get a decent day’s work out of him. Ever since the women got here he’s been doing nothing but preening like a rooster.”
They both watched Trace shamelessly flirt with the guests. The women swarmed to him like hummingbirds to nectar. Not Jamie, though. She stayed where she was, talking to Rachel, occasionally laughing at something someone said. When she glanced toward the barn, Cole turned away.
“You really on duty?” he asked Noah.
“Yeah.” Noah took off his hat and slapped it against the front of his thigh sending dust particles in the air. “Got a call from Mrs. Clements. Claims someone stole one of her four-wheelers.”
“Can’t be right.” There hadn’t been a theft in Salinas County for as long as Cole could recall. “The old woman has so much junk on her property, she probably misplaced it.”
“That’s my way of thinking. Naturally Avery had to stick his nose in, jabbering on about how this is what happens when you bring in outsiders.”
Cole stared at his friend. “You think one of the… Is that why you’re here?”
“You know me better than that, McAllister.” Noah sighed. “I figured I’d ask around, see if anyone’s noticed if things have gone missing.”
He shook his head. “The men would’ve mentioned it.”
“I expect it’ll turn out to be nothing, just like you said, probably misplaced. But the truth is, these are hard times. We don’t like to think our neighbors would resort to stealing, but a lot of men are out of work and they’ve got kids to feed. They see an elderly widow hoarding stuff she doesn’t use—” Noah shrugged, his expression grim. “Who’s to say…?”
Cole studied his friend. Unlike Cole, Noah had left long enough to serve in the army and go to college, then work as a big-city cop for a few years before deciding to return to Blackfoot Falls. He’d seen the ugly side of humanity. In Noah’s line of work, Cole understood it was good not to be too trusting. Sadly, even of their own neighbors.
“As much as I was against this dude ranch idea of Rachel’s, between you and me, it’s bringing in a nice piece of change.”
“Hey, you do what you gotta do.” Noah set his hat back on his head. “I had breakfast at Marge’s this morning and the folks sitting at the counter were talking about maybe starting their own guest ranches.”
“Avery would have a conniption. Hell, I wouldn’t be so thrilled myself.”
Noah chuckled. “Trace would think he’d died and gone to heaven.”
Whatever he’d meant to say to Noah slipped clean out of Cole’s mind as his gaze got snagged on a piercing stare from the only guest he gave a damn about. Hello, trouble, he thought, as he fought to keep his expression neutral when his body had ideas that were anything but.
5
AS DISGUSTED AS SHE WAS to be confined to her room her first night at the Sundance, Jamie knew damn well she deserved to be sidelined. She hadn’t ridden a horse in years, and while she’d known she was skilled enough to keep up with Cole, her aching body was calling her every kind of stupid.
She was in fairly good shape from routine exercise and some hiking, but straddling a horse strained a unique and seldom-used set of muscles.
Idiotic pride, that’s all it was. Cole had expected a city girl who couldn’t keep up and she’d wanted to show him….
Yeah, right. Really smart.
She twisted toward the nightstand to reach her glass of iced tea. Pain knifed her hip.
“Ouch.” She added a curse for good measure, then shifted her laptop to the side while she found a more comfortable position on the queen-size bed.
At least she was starting off with some good material for her blog, she thought wryly. Her readers would find this pretty funny. Though she wouldn’t post it for another six days. No way Jamie wanted Cole to know how foolish she’d been to ride for so long. After she was gone, he could laugh all he wanted.
Speaking of being a fool, she shifted just enough for a sharp stabbing pain to work its way up her thigh. “Oh, God,” she moaned. Did this mean sex was out of the question?
She sat up straighter to ease the cramp and groaned so loudly she almost missed the knock on the bedroom door. Had to be Rachel with more dessert. As if that would fix everything.
Seriously tempted to tell her to go away, Jamie sighed, then said, “Come in.”
“It’s Cole.”
“Oh.” She touched her hair and unsuccessfully glanced around for a mirror. Knowing she looked like crap, she swung her legs off the bed. Her muscles screamed in agony. It wasn’t worth moving.
“If you’re not decent then I can—”
“It’s okay.” She grinned. Did guys really say stuff like that? Apparently so. “Come in.” She tugged down the hem of her shorts to avoid a camel-toe but the gesture gave her an idea. Quickly she unfastened the top two buttons of her blouse. There. That should distract him.
The door slowly opened. He stood hesitantly at the threshold, his broad shoulders stretching across an impressive amount of space. His hat was gone, his hair combed back, and he’d changed into a snug black T-shirt and dark slim-fitting jeans. He still wore boots, and damn, he looked good. This surprise visit was so going into her blog.
Unless this pop-in turned into something juicy….
She tried to move closer to the edge of the bed without bawling like a five-year-old.
“Don’t,” he said, his worried gaze going to her bare legs. The concern in his eyes told her that Rachel had blown the whistle. “I’m not staying. I brought you something.”
Jamie darted a look at his hand, but she couldn’t see what he was holding. “It’s nothing, honestly—” she murmured, distracted by the strange pattern of pale scars that lashed the back of his hand. They looked old, and she might have missed them if he weren’t so tanned.
“I’m also here to apologize.” He gave his head a shake of self-recrimination.
“You think this is your fault?”
“Of course it’s my fault. I should’ve asked when you were in a saddle last.”
She grinned. “You’re adorable, you know that?”
He frowned, and to clinch his adorable status, a flush crept up his neck.
Jamie inched her butt closer to the edge of the bed, grimacing, as if that helped. “I knew better than to ride for that long a period of time after not being on a horse in so many years.”
“Still, I shouldn’t have let you—”
“Let me? I’m not a child.”
“No, but you were my responsibility.”
She laughed. “I haven’t been anyone’s responsibility for a helluva long time, thank you very much.”
Cole blinked, his expression mildly surprised, and then that stubborn glint was back in his eyes, the look she’d seen earlier. Made her wonder if he was the kind of guy who took the big-brother thing way too seriously. There was no father in the picture as far as she could tell.
“Help me up,” she said, “please.”
Without hesitation he offered his hand. Across his palm were more scars. Startled, she looked away to keep from staring, and let him gently pull her to her feet.
God, she wanted to ask what had happened to him, but now didn’t seem like the right time. She wanted him to keep holding her hand, the rough scarred skin feeling oddly exciting against her palm. For a second she tried to imagine how it would feel against the softer skin of her breasts.
Barefoot Blue Jean Night Page 5