A Christmas to Believe In (12 page)

The laughter he shared with Sam and Mark died abruptly

as he turned to acknowledge her. His eyes narrowed, and he

dipped his head against the frosty air. Without so much as a

word to her, he led his friends to the car.

Clint glanced into the rearview mirror, stealing a look at

the teenage boy who couldn't seem to shake off whatever had

bit him in the ass. They'd driven miles now, with him sending

sharp verbal jabs to Jesse at every opportunity. Aggression

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rolled off the teen in waves. Strong and fierce enough the

entire car had lapsed into silence at his last barb.

Not that Clint necessarily faulted Ethan for his reaction. He

could take the boy's anger. Understood it to a degree. To

Ethan, he was invading. Jesse was Ethan's territory, and Clint

had blundered into it without so much as a word of warning.

For two years, he'd been the man of Jesse's household, even

if he was more boy than man. Those kind of instincts didn't

form with age. Men came into this world programmed to look

after women.

Catching another man with his hands all over his mother

wouldn't have been easy for Clint to accept either. Even now,

with his father dead, he'd probably want to pummel the man

who touched his mom. He could relate to Ethan's fury in that

respect. What had his hands clenched on the wheel, however,

was the way Ethan treated Jesse... and worse, how she didn't

attempt to correct him.

Though she clenched her jaw and gripped the console so

tight her knuckles gleamed in the light of the dash, she said

nothing. Accepted his veiled insults with little more than a

flinch.

Why? Where had the woman who'd slammed her fist into

Peter Billings' nose for calling her a bitch one summer

afternoon, run off to? Jesse wasn't meek. Didn't know the

meaning of the word shy. What in the world would bring her

to sit silently and tolerate the insolence her future son dished

out?

He checked a sigh and turned off the highway onto a side

road. At a stoplight, he turned to Jesse. "Where to?"

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"Oh." As if pulled from her thoughts on a literal string, she

blinked long and slow, glanced around the busy street, and

nodded. "Mark first. He lives on Granite Avenue, over by the

old Walgreen's."

He turned the car east and sank back into his thoughts.

He'd kissed a lot of women in his life. Some he could

remember, some he couldn't. Until tonight, no solitary kiss

had reached in and grabbed him by the gut, only to pull so

hard it turned him inside out. His body still hummed with

awareness of Jesse. His nerves still crackled against the feel

of her curves meshed up against him.

The way she'd responded—God even on his best date, he

hadn't experienced that kind of passion. They had shared

something under that tree. Something primal that defied all

sense of logic and boundaries. It lurked between them now,

despite the engulfing tension in the car. A subtle spark

waiting for the right moment to ignite and consume them

both.

And damn it all, he wasn't ready to let it go. To walk away

without a backward glance, even if Jesse's signals screamed

turn around
. Retreat. Run.

She'd hardly looked at him the entire way home. Once or

twice, maybe, when he asked her a direct question.

Otherwise, she kept her gaze fastened either on her lap or

out the window.

"Turn in here."

At Jesse's sudden directive, Clint jammed on the brakes.

The car lurched to a near-stop, slowing just in time to make

the right hand turn.

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"Third on the left," Jesse murmured.

Clint nosed into the driveway. Mark jumped out, poked his

head back in and grinned. "Thanks for the ride, Jessica. Nice

to meet you, Clint. Talk to you tomorrow, Ethan, Sam."

He slammed the door hard enough to make Clint flinch and

bounded up the stairs to his front porch.

Clint waited until Mark was fully inside before he backed

down the driveway. "Now where?"

"Sam's two roads over from our place."

Their place. Common sense said she referred to the fact

they lived on the same road. But an odd thrill made his pulse

jump at the innuendo she hadn't intended. If circumstances

were different, he could see himself with Jesse in the long

term. If he lived closer. If he had the means of giving her the

things she deserved.

He blew out a frustrated breath and navigated back the

direction they'd come.

That sealed it. He absolutely wouldn't settle for walking

away. He wouldn't walk away from her. Not until he had to

return to Kentucky. Not after that thought-staggering kiss.

He'd have to make Ethan warm up to the idea, however. That

much was clear. Jesse wouldn't accept him any other way.

Which meant befriending the boy. Easy enough. He'd been

thirteen, and while that had been decades ago, it never really

changed. Hormones were hormones, and Clint had been

known to play a mean game of
Frogger
growing up. If Ethan

liked video games, he'd start there. Combat and strategy

didn't require a hell of a lot of conversation. Maybe they could

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bond there. From that point, he'd make sure Ethan knew he

wanted to get to know him. Wanted his respect and trust.

As for Jesse...

He stole a glance at her from the corner of his eyes.

Hunched down into her seat, her smile long gone, she created

the perfect picture of dejection. His heart did a half-twist, and

he tightened his fingers around the leather-wrapped wheel.

He'd have to discuss this with her. Tell her his plans and

hopes for Ethan. Make it clear he wouldn't let her push him

away because a thirteen-year-old boy had issues with

resigning his alpha position. Ethan's opinion deserved

consideration. But his outright hostility didn't warrant any

kind of response.

If Jesse understood Clint's motives, saw without a doubt

he wouldn't just feed Ethan pretty words, she'd come around.

Quickly. Hell, she might even change her tune on hearing the

conversation, even if the events didn't play out as planned.

"It's three blocks up, Clint. Haffenburg Street. Turn right,"

Sam instructed.

Then again, maybe Ethan would change his tune if his

friends couldn't come up with too many complaints about him

or this new twist to his friendship with Jesse.

He stopped in Sam's driveway, said goodbye, and waited

for him to disappear beyond the bright porch lights.

Reversing, he looked once more to the backseat. "You like

horses, Ethan?"

"No." Clipped and abrasive, his response warned Clint to

stop.

He pressed further. "Ever been around them?"

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"Nope."

"Maybe you'd like it, if you'd give them a try. Angel's in

your barn. I'll teach you some basics, if you're interested."

"I'm not."

Clint ground his teeth together, but he tempered the

frustration from taking control of his voice. "Well, if you

change your mind, I'm there morning and evening. She's

going to foal soon too. You might enjoy seeing that."

"Doubt it."

Beside him, Jesse's features drew into a tight line. She bit

down on her lower lip, stopping whatever retort begged for

freedom. She shifted in her seat, rearranged her coat. But

she said nothing.

Damned strange. Second only to her defense of her

immediate family, was her defense for his. Then again, if the

kid turned hostile on every man she brought home, no

wonder she was single.

A hard fist punched him in the gut. She
was
single wasn't

she? Maybe that's what had Ethan up in arms. Maybe she had

someone else in her life. Someone Ethan liked.

He scowled at the thought, the idea of Jesse having kissed

another man like she'd kissed him, a possibility he didn't want

to consider.

"A foal might be fun," she cut in quietly.

Clint resisted the urge to smile. Now that was more like it.

The woman he knew poked her head out of this weird shell

after all. A small gesture, but nevertheless, one he recognized

in his favor.

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He caught her hesitant gaze in the dim light. "I'm thinking

I won't have the option to take her home to foal out."

"No?" she asked, interest sparking behind her eyes.

He shook his head. "She's getting close. I'll need to check

her when we get back to your place, if you don't mind running

me back to the house."

"It's no problem."

Pulling in a tight breath, he tested the waters and played

the card that would, hopefully, buy him some time alone with

her. "I could use some help."

She answered with a short nod.

Ethan's chortle wafted from the back seat. In the rearview

mirror, Clint caught his wry smirk. He lifted an eyebrow,

silently daring the boy to voice whatever thought had crept

into his head.

Ethan's expression vanished. To the teen's credit, he

shifted his weight and deferred by looking out the window.

Well, at least Ethan wasn't stupid. Whatever drove his

rudeness, he knew when Clint had heard enough. Though, for

the life of him, Clint had no idea what he might have done

had Ethan decided to challenge him. Probably pull over and

give the keys to Jesse. Walk home. He wouldn't confront a

kid. Not in this lifetime.

Besides, that would get him nowhere. Ethan needed

encouragement. Not a pissing match.

Breathing deeply, Clint forced the tension out of his

shoulders. He could do this. A few minutes alone with Jesse,

and he'd explain how he intended to garner Ethan's support.

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Once he had that, he felt certain whatever pushed her to run

would pull her back in.

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Jesse climbed out of the car and faced Ethan. "I'm going to

check the horse, then take Clint home. Why don't you get our

game loaded?"

"Whatever." With another shrug that clawed at her heart,

he lumbered toward the front door.

As she watched his retreat, she saw another boy, not

thirteen, but eleven and full of resentment for everyone. The

same belligerence hung around Ethan, the same tough as

nails shell enveloped him.

Damn it all, one kiss didn't warrant this kind of reaction.

Nor did Clint. Of all the men to ever cross paths with Ethan,

Clint would be one of few worth respect. Certainly the only

one to this point.

Ethan closed the front door, and Jesse let out a heavy

sigh. As Clint reached for her hand, she tucked it into her

pocket, determined not to give him encouragement. Things

had gone too far already. No matter how she longed to feel

the warmth of his palm against hers, she simply couldn't

allow it to happen.

Ignoring his perplexed frown, she trudged through the

thick snow toward the barn. He beat her to the door, though,

and rolled it open before she could even reach for the handle.

She stepped inside, grateful for the warmth the old oak walls

trapped.

He crossed quickly to the stall and let himself inside.

"How can I help?" she asked.

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At his mare's side, he shook his head. "I just wanted to

talk to you for a minute."

A niggling of apprehension tugged at the base of her mind.

This couldn't be good. If he needed privacy, he intended to

discuss what had happened under the Christmas tree. An

encounter she had yet to make peace with, let alone verbalize

anything relating to it.

As he eased a heavy blanket away from the mare's hind

end, he continued, "You and I might go back decades, but I'm

new to Ethan." He moved around the mare to retrieve a small

object Jesse couldn't identify from a medical box. "I'm

unfamiliar territory, and I am a threat."

"Don't be silly." She argued for Clint's sake. He had half of

it right, but not because Ethan didn't know him. Somehow,

her intended son had picked up on what brimmed between

her and Clint, and that alone caused the trouble. Away from

her, Clint and Ethan might have been friends.

"I'm not being silly. I'm a guy, Jesse. There was a time

when you would have understood that. Back before people

started calling you Jessica. Back when Jesse Saurs wouldn't

hesitate to deck a guy for insulting her."

So he'd picked up on her restraint with Ethan. Jesse sighed

heavily. "There's things you don't understand. Things I can't