Cowboy Fever (16 page)

“I don't think you understand.” Courtney's condescending tone made him bristle. He could just imagine how Troy felt. “I have a lot of experience with horses. My Hanoverian, Double Dutch, won the Fendi Cup at the Hampton Classic and was considered for the Olympic team.” Her lower lip began to tremble. “He's gone now, but…”

Jodi tossed her hair. “Your horse won it? Where were you?”

“I was there,” Courtney said. “I always oversaw Dutch's handlers. Like I said, I'm quite experienced.”

“Well, Troy grew up ranching,” Jodi said. “I'd say that makes you even at best. He did a lot more than watch somebody else ride his horse.”

“Well,” Courtney said. There was a long silence, but she broke it with an exasperated little huff. “But I don't want him touching Honeybucket. He's delicate.”

“This isn't
Of Mice and Men
, and Troy's no Lenny,” Jodi said. “He's perfectly capable of handling your… dog. And if the animal's that delicate, you shouldn't bring him here.”

Teague couldn't help laughing, but he figured he'd better intervene before there was an all-out catfight and somebody got hurt. He knew Emmett had written up releases for the clinic, but he doubted Jodi was covered for murdering volunteers.

“Teague!” Courtney spotted him and posed against the railing. “I'm
so
glad you're here. I was just talking to Jodi about your brother Troy. I'm a little concerned she's not monitoring him closely enough.”

Teague narrowed his eyes. Had Troy hurt himself again? When he'd overheard Courtney talking about his brother, it had gotten his back up—but maybe she'd had a reason to think Jodi wasn't giving Troy enough supervision.

“What happened?”

“Nothing, as far as I could see,” Jodi said. “Why don't you explain your concerns to Teague while I get us some iced tea?”

She flashed a murderous look at Courtney, then tossed Teague the same baleful glare and stomped into the house, her jaw set. Teague made a mental note to watch his step. She was liable to get out her daddy's shotgun and shoot her new volunteer, and judging from her expression, anyone in a three-mile radius might end up as collateral damage.

***

Jodi washed her hands, then slammed three glass tumblers down on the counter and clinked a handful of ice into each, almost enjoying the cruel bite of the cubes on her hands. She muttered a few curse words as she pulled a pitcher of iced tea and a lemon out of the refrigerator, then scanned the lit interior.

Man, she was hungry. She hadn't had breakfast, and it was practically lunchtime. But if she made herself lunch, she'd have to invite Courtney to eat, and Teague too. Glancing over her shoulder, she fished a piece of ham out of a deli bag, rolled it up, and ate it in three quick bites. That helped, but she needed something more.

Pickles. Belle Arnold had brought her a big jar of homemade baby dills as a housewarming present. Hauling it out of the fridge, she grabbed a fork and speared one, then stood at the counter, crunching it happily. Ham and pickles. That was a balanced meal, right? Protein and a vegetable.

The floor creaked behind her and she whirled to see Teague walking in the door. She quickly dropped the fork, pickle and all, in the sink and tried to look casual.

“So did you ease Courtney's worried mind?”

“Yeah. It was nothing,” he said. “She just likes to stir up trouble.”

“No kidding.” She poured the tea, almost sloshing it over the edge of the glasses, then slapped the lemon onto the cutting board beside the stove and got a knife out of the drawer below. She turned to face Teague and he backed away, his hands palms out at chest level as if warding her off.

“Easy, there,” he said. “Watch the knife.”

“Sorry.” She sighed and he lowered his hands as she turned and sliced the lemon into wedges. “I just hate to see you getting involved with somebody who doesn't understand Troy. I mean, you heard her. Talking about making him ‘mind.'”

“I told you, I'm not involved with her.”

Jodi tossed him a disbelieving glare.

“Why? You jealous?” He was giving her that sneaky grin again—the one that said he'd caught her looking at him, or thinking about him, or being jealous. But he was wrong this time. She gave the lemon a final whack and he flinched.

“There's no reason to even be civil to someone who talks about Troy like that.”

Teague leaned against the counter. “I know how you feel. But you might as well get used to it, since half the population doesn't get who Troy is. You have to give people a chance to learn.”

“It wasn't just that she didn't understand,” Jodi said. “It was that she didn't want to. She was so upset at the notion she might have to take orders from him that she was about ready to quit. I wish she had.”

“Yeah, I know. But it's our job to
help
people understand.”

Jodi sighed. “Whatever.” She arranged the wedges of lemon on a plate, then set the plate and the three glasses on a wooden tray with a burned-in design of a cowboy riding a bucking horse. Famous Wyoming brands rimmed the edge.

“So you don't want her around, but you're defending her?”

“I'm just trying to help with the Troy thing.”

She snorted. It wasn't attractive, but then, she wasn't trying to attract Teague. She shouldn't even be talking to him.

“Hey.” He stepped up behind her and put his hands on her shoulders. Evidently the snort had been more attractive than she thought. “I know how you feel.” His arms swept around her in a hug that would have been brotherly if he hadn't put his lips so close to her ear. “You feel
good
.” He drew out the last word and his breath fluttered the fine curls at the nape of her neck. She clenched her thighs as a spasm of lust made a line drive straight to her center.

“Teague.” She spun around and shoved him away. “I'm busy.”

“Hmm.” He cocked his head and smiled. “So does that mean I should come back when you're not?”

“No.” She lifted the tray, but her hands were shaking and the glasses slid toward the edge. “It means—
aack!
”

She barely righted the tray in time to keep the glasses from slipping off. Looking at Teague's expression made her want to set the whole deal on the counter and throw the glasses at him one by one. He was smiling, which was fine, except that the smile was a combination of smug satisfaction and good-natured mockery that made her want to belt him one, like she had when they were kids and he made fun of her for being a girl.

“Okay,” he said, raising his hands in the air like a hold-up victim. “Sorry. But I didn't make any promise to your mother, and you can't blame me for trying. But Courtney and I are not a couple. I certainly haven't slept with her or anything.”

She banged the tray down on the counter, making the ice jangle in the glasses, and spun to face him. “Well, if there's one thing I know about you, it's that sleeping with a woman doesn't mean you're serious about her.”

The minute she said it, she regretted it. That was giving away way too much. He took a step toward her and she could feel her face heating in a blush.

“Jodi, what are you saying?”

He was standing way too close. She could smell fresh cut grass and sage, and the scent took her back to the days they'd spent in the summer sun with Vegas. Why did everything associated with Wyoming's outdoors make her think of Teague? She'd spent plenty of time riding horses and puttering around the barn without him. For some reason, he dominated her childhood memories just like he ruled her thoughts at night.

He reached up and shoved a lock of hair behind her ear and that spark of lust ricocheted from his touch and hit home base again. Dang. He knew that got to her. There was something so tender about that gesture—something caring and nurturing that was all the more touching when it came from someone who usually hid his tender side.

He wasn't hiding anything now. His eyes were serious, fixed on hers as if begging her to believe him.

“Sometimes you pretend you don't love somebody because you know you're not good for her,” he said.

She looked down and away, avoiding his eyes, but he put one finger under her chin and tilted her face up to meet his eyes. “And then you try and try to become someone who
is
good for her. You do everything you can so that if you ever get another chance, you'll have something to offer.”

She blinked. What was he saying?

His voice dropped into a whisper and he pulled her against him.

“Everything I did while you were gone—the business, the house… that was all for you.”

She knew she should pull away, make a joke, something—but instead she rested her head against his chest and closed her eyes. His arms tightened and she could feel his chest rising and falling, his heart beating under her cheek.

She just wanted to stay there a while. Just wanted to take a break from resisting him for a minute. It was getting to be more and more of a struggle.

His chest rose again as he took in a deep breath. His arms tightened and suddenly, her heart thrummed with panic.

“Teague.” She pulled away, avoiding his eyes. “I told you, my mother…”

He looked so hurt she could hardly stand it, but she'd promised, and he knew it. If he loved her, wouldn't he respect her decision?

“Stop, okay?” she said. “I told you, I made a promise. Can't you respect that and stop making this harder than it has to be?”

“No. I can't. I can't respect you letting other people tell you how to live your life.”

“She's my
mother
, Teague. And she's all I have left. And you keep—
tempting
me.”

“Sorry.” He was smiling again. The expression definitely didn't match the words. “I don't mean to do it. It just happens.”

“Oh, right. So that was an accident, back there at your house? And yesterday?”

“Pretty much. Yeah.” He was staring down at the toe of his boot, his lips pressed together to hold back a smile. “Especially the part with the goat. That was an accident.”

“Well, yeah. If we hadn't fallen…”

“But it wasn't all me. How am I supposed to behave myself when you… you know.”

She cleared her throat. “Well, I'm sorry. I'll try not to slip up again.”

He took a step closer. “I said it was an accident. I didn't say it was a mistake.”

He was gazing at her so intently she felt totally exposed. Hell, she felt
naked
when he looked at her like that. She let out a frustrated little mew and spun back to the counter, pretending she needed to make crucial adjustments to the lemon slices.

Teague sighed. “Well, we'd better get out there. Miss Priss will be wondering what happened to us.”

“Not that I care,” Jodi said.

“Yeah, I kind of feel sorry for her,” Teague said. “She's so… so different from everybody around here. Such an outsider.” He looked away, as if something fascinating was taking place outside the window over the sink. “I know what that's like. I know she's annoying, but I think we should give her a chance.”

Jodi thought back to high school—to the whispers in the hall as Teague passed; to the gossip about his father's drinking and his mother's affairs; to the hurt in his eyes when he'd overheard Jodi's mom calling him “that white trash boy.” Teague had been an outsider, all right.

And she hadn't helped him the way he was helping Courtney. She'd been too worried about what other people would think. About how it might affect her chances at the rodeo crown.

Teague might be annoying as all get-out, but he was a better person than she'd ever be.

“Okay,” she said. “I'll try to be nice. For you.”

“For me?” He took a step closer. “So since you're in the mood and all, do you want to do a couple other things for me?”

She looked up, suddenly aware of his eyes probing hers with a new intensity. The look she'd backed away from before was hurt, and something like love—but this was pure, raw sex. She felt her body coming alive, the nerves dancing at the surface of her skin sending the signal from his touch to her breasts, to her heart, to the warmth between her legs. It shot through her body, knocking down all her sensible resolutions like a pinball hitting the bumpers, racking up a high score.

Teague licked his lips and leaned closer, letting his hand trace the side of her face. Lowering his face to hers, he touched her lips with his and the pinball zoomed straight down the middle, taking all her good sense with it.

She reached up, cupping her hand behind his neck, and pulled him close.

Their lips were almost touching when a noise made her turn toward the door.

***

Teague felt himself being drawn in by Jodi's eyes, her lips, the peaches-and-sunshine smell of her hair. The outside world faded away. She was magic for him, like a drug he couldn't do without. Her lips were inches from his, her eyes drifting closed, when a sudden sound made him look up.

Courtney stood in the doorway, and she looked like an outsider, all right. Honeybucket was still smiling, but judging from his doggie-mama's stiff posture and sour expression, she wasn't too happy to see Teague and Jodi headed for a clinch.

The girl's face was still puffy, probably from crying over her horse, and judging from the sheen in her eyes, seeing him and Jodi together was enough to make her start up again.

He'd hoped it would be enough to make her back off—but dang, the girl looked like her world had ended. She was going to cry, he was sure of it.

Not again. He just couldn't deal with more of Courtney's tears.

Without thinking it through, he stepped away from Jodi, blinked, and wiped one eye. “Thanks,” he said. “I think you got it.” He turned to Courtney. “Had something in my eye.”