It Had to Be You (40 page)

“He’s glad you’re here now.”

“Really? Because he just warned me to stay away from you or else.”

Callie blinked. “What?”

“Yeah. He thinks I’m going to do this.” He stepped close, bent his head and kissed her. “And this…” Pulling her close, he deepened the kiss.

With another of those sexy little sounds, she wrapped her arms around his neck, arched against him, and danced her tongue to his. And just like that, Jake was a goner, a complete goner as he glided his hands up her body, holding her face still because he couldn’t get enough. He was deathly afraid he could never get enough. Their bodies collided, shifted, and hungry for more he took it—until a shaft of pain shot through his shoulder.

“Sorry,” she gasped, and tried to pull free, but he held on to her.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he promised, thinking he’d take a thousand more hits like that, if she’d only stay close.

But she backed away. “You should go.”

“What? Why?”

“Because I need to think.”

“About…?”

“About all this. About you. About me. The way I throw myself in heart first.”

He stared at her, suddenly knowing where this was going.

“It’s just me,” she said. “Throwing myself in without looking. It’s how I work, even knowing I’m going to sink like a stone. And I’d do that here, with you, but Jake, I can’t be the only one.”

She already knew him that well, knew he’d never throw himself in and follow his heart.

“I think your idea of taking our time was a good one,” she said softly.

Caught by his own damn logic.

“Good-night, Jake.” She smiled when he continued to stare at her, befuddled. “Say good-night back.”

What choice did he have? He wanted her, so badly he could hardly see straight, but he couldn’t promise to toss his heart in for the ride, and hell if he’d lie to her. His body came free, no vows, no ties. But even an untried heart such as his knew that love came at a price, a heavy one.

And he wasn’t willing to pay. “Good-night, Callie.”

She stood there looking at him, skin glowing, eyes soft. Her nipples were still hard beneath her camisole. He closed his eyes, stepped to the door. “Lock it behind me.”

The sound of the lock tumbling into place echoed into the night.

T
he next morning, Amy made a large breakfast for the cheerleaders before their expedition out to some historic Apache sites. Having been spoiled by the Japanese businessmen who’d eaten every crumb she’d cooked, she was shocked when all the dishes came back with much of the food left over.

Marge laughed at her concern, saying it wasn’t the food but the carb content in it. The cheerleaders were all fit and lean, so that made no sense to Amy, but the following morning she experimented with Marge’s suggestions, and served eggs and lean bacon with no toast or muffins. It all vanished.

Seemed she’d have to be flexible. No problem, she’d been born flexible. She politely thanked Marge, who shocked the hell out of her by ignoring her hands-off aura and giving her a warm hug in return.

That night Amy stood in the kitchen cleaning up after a light chicken stew. Happy chatter came through the walls from the dining room. The guys had all made a point to be around for dinner the last few nights—big surprise given who their guests were, but she didn’t mind.

Humming, she scrubbed the stovetop and the floor, and whatever else needed a good cleaning. It took her a while to recognize that she was enjoying herself.

Callie had asked her to join the dinner group but she’d declined, and she didn’t regret that. It gave her comfort to work in peace without having to socialize, while knowing the house was full and she wasn’t alone. Plus, she felt partly responsible for those people enjoying themselves out there, and that felt good, too.

She knew when she turned to clean out the already spotless refrigerator that she was merely delaying the moment when she’d have to go back to her empty cabin.…

But that lingering fear made her mad, mad enough that she put down her sponge, straightened her aching back, and headed resolutely to the back door.

No more fear.

That had been her promise to herself, and she’d nearly forgotten it, damn it. She was eighteen, a legal adult. Sure, her father could find her if he tried hard enough, but he couldn’t make her come home as he’d been able to all the other times.

Knowing that, she headed out into the night, but her feet faltered on the grass, and not just because Goose showed up out of nowhere looking to chase her. Her cabin was dark, too dark. And inside it, waiting for her, were her nightmares.

Lifting her chin, she turned and headed toward the barn instead. Goose watched her closely but since Amy stepped off the grass, the bossy creature didn’t try to block her path. Amy rewarded her with a pat on the head, then let herself into the barn. She wanted to touch the horses, wanted to put her hand on a warm flank and be in the company of a living thing that couldn’t talk, demand, yell, hit…couldn’t do anything but just be.

She turned on the lights and smiled when a few of the horses blinked balefully at her. A few more stuck their heads out to see if she’d brought them a treat from the kitchen, as she’d done several times before.

“Shh,” she said to her audience. “I’m not supposed to be here.” She offered a sugar cube to Sierra, and then to Moe, who though quiet and a little distant, happily crunched on the treat. Homer, Tucker’s much friendlier horse, bumped her arm with his nose. Smiling for the first time all day, she gave him one, too, then took a nice deep breath, feeling herself start to relax as his soft muzzle tickled her palm. “I wish I knew how to ride you.”

“All you have to do is ask.”

With a soft scream she whipped around, her entire handful of sugar cubes scattering at her feet. Tucker stood in the shadow of the doorway watching her, his hat low enough that she couldn’t see his expression. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t doing anything, I just wanted…” She trailed off awkwardly when he took a step closer.

He was tall, built like an athlete, and as she knew, from the day she’d flipped him to the floor, beneath those jeans and T-shirt was a hard body complete with harder muscles and a strength that she couldn’t come close to matching if he wanted to exert his. Remembering that morning still horrified her, but damn it, he’d scared her. He was scaring her now, too. She backed up a step and came in close personal contact with Homer’s stall door. The padlock gouged into her back and her fists tightened.

“You just wanted what?” he asked.

She blinked at the unexpected smile in his voice, unable to speak with the fear and anger and frustration that was one big unswallowable lump in her throat.

“Amy?”

Why was his voice so gentle? He came close and she flinched back, but all he did was tip his hat back on his head as his smile faded. “Couple of things,” he said quietly. “First of all, if you keep jumping guiltily every time someone so much as looks at you, someone’s going to think you did something wrong.”

“I didn’t.”

“Which is my point,” he said patiently. “And second—”

A lecture. She was good at those. She studied her shoes and prepared to wait it out.

But he broke off and just looked at her for a long moment. “I don’t expect you to believe me,” he finally said. “But no one working here has ever hurt another soul. Not Callie, not Marge or Lou. Not Eddie or Stone. And not me. I never would. Sierra, stop it.” The horse had stuck her head out from her stall and was searching his pockets. Absently Tucker rubbed her nose. “I didn’t bring anything for you. I didn’t expect to come out here.”

“So why did you?” Amy asked.

“Saw the light. Was wondering who was where they didn’t belong and why.”

“I forgot you told me not to come out here.”

“No, you didn’t.” He stroked beneath Homer’s chin now, who snorted in pleasure. “You just don’t like rules. You’ve probably had too many that don’t make sense. I meant what I said about not getting hurt by anyone here.”

She felt her face heat, and mortified, she looked away.

Leaving plenty of space between them, Tucker leaned back against the stall door next to her. Something crunched beneath his boot and he lifted it to see. “Ah.” He bent for an uncrushed sugar cube.

Sierra’s head stretched out as far as she could get it, and Amy let out a little laugh at the hopeful expression on the horse’s face. Tucker fed Sierra the cube, but kept his eyes on Amy. “A laugh. I don’t think I’ve heard that from you before.”

Her heart, which had just finally slowed down its painful race, took off again. She looked away, wondering when he’d leave.

He didn’t, nor did he say anything for a long time. “Life’s pretty simple out here. We’re a tight-knit group. Friends. We trust one another.”

She let out another laugh, this one without mirth. “If you want me to trust you…”

“I’d settle for a friendship.”

Bemused, she shook her head.

“Yeah, I felt that way when I came here, too. Shit, I was a handful, and pissed—at my mother, my brother…the entire world. Callie had a time with me.” He turned his head and met her gaze with his steely gray one. “But she never gave up, not once. I’m pretty patient myself, Amy. I learned that from her.”

She’d been holding her breath, and she slowly let it out, feeling a tightness in her chest. “I don’t need a friend.”

“I didn’t, either. I was sure of it.”

“I just want to be alone. With the horses.”

He adjusted his hat again. “You know you’re not supposed to be out here without a good reason.”

“I didn’t hurt Sierra, or take that money.”

He looked at her for a long time. “Do you want a reason to be out here? Because Eddie, Stone, Lou, and I…we can always use some help.”

“How do you know I’m not the one who tried to hurt Sierra, or steal the money?”

“You just said you weren’t.”

She stared at him, completely thrown off. He simply leaned back and let time go by, with a quiet ease she wanted to find fault with, and couldn’t. She was where she shouldn’t be, she’d been rude, and he didn’t seem bothered. Even more unsettling, he didn’t push her to talk.

Which suddenly made her want to. She leaned back, too, and stared up at the open-beamed ceiling. “Remember when I told you I wasn’t a misfit? That I had somewhere to belong?”

“I remember.”

What the hell.
She turned her head and looked at him. “I lied. I am, and I don’t.”

“You mean you were, and you didn’t.” When he smiled, she had the most awful urge to cry, so she looked away.

She heard a crinkling, and then smelled chocolate.

“Mmm.” He held out a candy bar with a good chunk gone. He was chewing it. “Want some?”

She wrinkled her nose and he laughed. “Yeah, I figured you’d be a candy bar snob, given how good your own cookies and brownies are.” Unperturbed, he proceeded to eat the whole thing. He didn’t say another word, just stood there eating, occasionally stroking Sierra, Homer, and Moe.

Was he ever going to leave? Apparently not.

“You’re the strangest person I’ve ever met,” she finally said into the silence.

“Really?” He looked rather proud of that, and she couldn’t help it, she laughed.
Again.

His approving smile was warm.

And so, she found, her own warmed a little, along with something deep inside her. She’d come here tonight needing to be with something alive, thinking the animals would do it, but somehow this worked, too. So she leaned back, too, and just breathed.

Later, when she entered her cabin and dead-bolted the door, she stared down at her bag, which she still hadn’t unpacked. She nudged it with her toe and glanced up at the armoire in the corner, which stood empty. A yearning to actually unpack came over her, but then common sense prevailed. She never unpacked, anywhere.

Instead she went to bed.

The next few days proved to be quiet and rather easy for Callie. The cheerleaders had some good horsing experience. They worked a roundup and everyone participated, even Jake, who didn’t seem to have too much trouble riding Molly. Of course, no one had trouble on Molly, but Callie gave him credit for trying.

On the cheerleader’s third day, Eddie, Stone, and Tucker got up at the crack of dawn to take the women on a two-day mountain horseback expedition through the Dragoons, to hike among old, deserted mining camps.

Lou had spent the past few days cleaning and oiling all the riding equipment. Marge packed up all the sleeping gear. Amy prepared their food, and when she helped Tucker pack it into saddle bags, she went on and on with cooking directions for so long that his eyes glazed over and he pretended to snore.

Everyone laughed, and Amy smacked Tucker, then looked horrified at herself. But Tucker just laughed some more, then walked off completely uninsulted, leaving Amy staring after him for the longest time, as if waiting for the other shoe to fall, which of course it never did.

Tucker actually asked Jake to go with them on the camping trip, but Jake paled at the idea of camping and declined. When they’d left, Callie, Lou, and Marge divided all the chores. With a bucket of feed and an empty basket for the eggs, Callie headed toward the hen house.

“Whatcha doing?”

She didn’t have to turn around and see Jake to get that odd, nameless feeling in her stomach. She forced herself to take a deep calming breath before turning to face him. “Working.”

“Want some help?”

There was something in his eyes beyond the easy smile: a hint of pain and also a sadness that got to her. “You’re going to help me gather eggs?”

“Now, see,
that’s
what I’m talking about. Gathering eggs…why didn’t Tucker give me that job?”

He was trying hard to be light and carefree, and she decided to let him have it. “Think it’s easy?”

“How hard can it be?”

“Not as hard as running into a burning building, I’m quite certain.” Inside she gestured to the row of hens. “Go for it.”

He walked up to the first hen, eyeballed the thing sitting there so calmly. “Okay, I’m going in.” He started to reach in with his right hand, winced at the movement of his shoulder, and pulled back. Before Callie could stop him, he tried again with his left—and got pecked hard. He jumped back with a yelp. “What the hell—”

“You’ve got to be quick.”

He stared at her, and then tried again.

And took another hit.

“Here.” The man was going to get pecked to death. “Like this…” She scattered some feed on the ground. The hens cackled and coo’d and leapt toward the feed, leaving their eggs wide open. She reached in and filled her basket, then grinned at him.

“Wow.”

“Impressive, huh?”

“No, it’s not the eggs, it’s the smile. Love it, even though it’s cocky as hell.” He snagged her hips in his hands, pulled her close and lowered his head.

“Oh no.” She slapped a hand on his chest. “We’re working.”

“I know.” He touched his forehead to hers. “But I’m losing it here, Callie. Kissing you is about all I have left.”

She cupped his face and looked into his serious eyes. Her heart slipped. “Oh, Jake.”

Before the words were out, he kissed her, and for a long, delirious moment, she let herself sink into him, but finally managed to locate a few working brain cells. “If you’re going to kiss me in between every hen, this is going to be a slow process.”

“What’s wrong with slow?”

“Because I have the goats, the cows, the horses, the puppies, and a million other things left to do after we finish here.”

“Don’t make me try again for more eggs,” he begged, eyeing the hens with dread.

Shaking her head, he held the basket while she grabbed the eggs. “You ever going to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I thought you already had it all figured out.” He followed her into the pig pen with the bucket of kitchen leftovers.

She tipped it into their trough herself, feeling Jake’s tension behind her at not being able to lift it for her. She looked at him. “It’s not being able to get back to work, work that is your entire life.”

“Bingo,” he said.

“And being here on your father’s land feels weird.”

“Double bingo.”

“I’m sorry, Jake.”

“Sorry enough to sleep with me again?”

She laughed, and he shot her a small smile. “I guess not.” But they stayed together to feed the cows and the horses. Last, they checked on Tiger and her puppies, who crawled in ecstasy all over Jake, and Callie had to laugh at the sight of him sitting on the ground being mauled by the puppies. “What?” he asked.