Riding the Storm (15 page)

“Sweet? Yeah, now that’s what I was going for.” He slid his hand down and gave her rump a playful swat. “The smooth talkin’s done for the night, angel. Now go on. Finish your story.”

Jolene laid her head on his chest and snuggled in. “The only thing holding all those immigrants together
was their determined wagon train master, William Wallace Livesay. He could speak enough of each language to communicate with all the groups and keep the peace.

“But he was killed when a storm a lot like this one hit. He was thrown from his horse and trampled. The settlers were suddenly on their own, stuck with each other. But in true Texas spirit, they turned their lives around and decided to work together and settle at the spot where their leader had died. They found a way to communicate, a way to get along. They turned away from the storm and to each other to survive.”

“They turned to each other to survive,” Nate echoed.

“Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?”

She and Nate had turned to each other.

“Sounds like that pioneer spirit—putting down roots, helping your neighbor, doing what needs to be done—is still a big part of Turning Point.”

“I guess so. Is it like that for you back in Courage Bay?”

He didn’t answer. Maybe he was feeling torn from his own roots. From the community and family he loved back in California.

“It’s quieting down out there,” he pointed out after a long silence.

Jolene turned her head to listen. She’d been so caught up in her time with Nate—that she’d momentarily forgotten about the wrath of Damon blowing its way across the countryside. She could still hear the rain hitting the roof, but she no longer felt the wind pummeling the house or roaring through the rafters. The air pressure had changed, too. Maybe it was only psychological, but she sensed the atmosphere lightening up, easing its hold over the elements.

And in direct contrast, Jolene’s heart grew heavy. Maybe it was just exhaustion. Nate was putting her to sleep, massaging the back of her neck with one hand. And maybe it was something more. She’d run a gamut of emotions today, but one remained, startlingly clear.

She liked Nate Kellison. A lot. She wanted him. Needed him. He’d awakened both her heart and her body.

And there’d be no reason for him to stay once the storm had passed.

“You okay?” he asked, misinterpreting her silence.

Jolene snuggled closer, postponing the inevitable. “You really do have magic hands, Nate Kellison.”

She drifted off to sleep, secure against the warmth of Nate’s broad chest. Little Joaquin settled, too, equally at home beneath the large, gentle hand of the California cowboy who had melted his mother’s heart

And would surely break it when he left her to go back home.

T
HE SUNSHINE HURT
his eyes.

Nate squinted against the morning light and surveyed what was left of the Double J ranch. Most notably, he assessed the bull pen. A chunk of Jolene’s barn roof was lying across a section of demolished fence rail, and there was no bull in sight. Branches and fences were damaged or down everywhere. A lake, left by Damon flooded the lowlands off to the west, and the road beyond the Double J’s main gate was nonexistent beneath a wash of mud and standing water.

When Texas staged a disaster, they did it up right. After everything he’d seen the past twenty-four hours, he’d been ready to think the sun never shone in this part of the country.

Jolene walked up behind him on the front porch. “Oh, this is not good.”

Nate quickly amended his opinion on Texas sunshine. He’d never failed to see it in the beautiful smile of one spunky, blue-eyed mom-to-be.

“Not good at all,” he agreed. His mood seemed to lighten just by having her stand beside him. “It’s hard to know where to start cleaning up.”

She wore clothes today that emphasized her slender
height and actually showed off a bit of her figure, and had pulled her hair back into one long braid that highlighted the graceful column of her neck. Maternity jeans hugged her rump and thighs. She’d left the bottom button of her royal blue tailored blouse unfastened to accommodate her protruding belly. With her arms crossed in front of her, pushing her breasts up, she created a lush silhouette of femininity that stirred a decidedly masculine response in him.

How could she ever think a man couldn’t find her attractive? Wouldn’t want to kiss her? Wouldn’t move heaven and earth to make love to her?

Not for the first time, Nate wondered about Jolene’s relationship with her husband. He only knew that the man had been sick and had tragically died before the two of them could enjoy creating a life and future together. But what about before that? Had her husband courted her? Sent her flowers? Said pretty things? Or had he just taken advantage of Jolene’s bighearted instincts to give of herself without regard for herself? It burned in Nate’s gut to think that this Joaquin Angel had had sex with Jolene, yet not shown her the joys of making love.

Hell. His gut wasn’t thrilled with the idea of anyone making love to Jolene. Well, anyone but him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Nate turned his face to the sky. He had no business feeling possessive or jealous or resentful about any of this. Jolene wasn’t his. Judging the way her husband had loved her wasn’t his concern.

“I feel like we’re surrounded by a medieval moat.”

Jolene’s take on the condition of her ranch rightly pulled him back to less personal thoughts.

“You don’t happen to have a drawbridge you can let down to get us out of here, do you?” she asked.

“Not on me.” Nate checked one of the porch’s posts before leaning against it. “If the Agua Dulce’s flooded to the south, then every slough and tributary feeding into it is backed up, too. It could take a day or a week for the water to go down enough to walk or ride out of here.”

“If we had a boat, I’d say we could paddle.”

Nate turned her way. “Do you have a boat?” Maybe there was a way he could get beyond the barriers of floodwater and find help after all.

Jolene shrugged. “Sorry. Looks like you’re stuck with me.”

He could think of worse ways to spend the next few days of his life.

“I’m not complaining.” Nate straightened, pulling his gloves from the pockets of his jeans. “There’s plenty of work I can do around here.” He pointed across the rain-pocked yard. “And that ton of trouble is my first priority.”

Jolene stared at the empty, broken pen. She twirled a finger in the air as she spoke. “You don’t think the hurricane spawned a tornado…that Rocky…” He could tell she was imagining what she’d have to report to her friend, Lily, if the Santa Gertrudis bull turned up dead. “The cows blew away in the movie
Twister
.”

Shaking his head, Nate grinned. “Now
that’s
Hollywood. But I suppose anything’s possible. Knowing our friend, though, I’m guessing he took himself for a walk at the first opportunity. He’s probably trying to find your neighbor’s herd or some dry food.”

“Or he’s lying in wait for us somewhere.”

“I wouldn’t put it past him.” He pulled out his work
gloves. “Better keep your eyes open. I’ll saddle up Checker and go look for Rocky so we don’t get any nasty surprises. I can see how far around your property the flooding goes while I’m at it. Find if there’s a way out cross-country.”

“Here. If you’re going riding, you’ll need this.” She held out a red, white and blue Texas Rangers baseball cap. “To replace the one I lost in the hurricane. I bought it as an early Christmas present for Dad, but I think you’ll need it.”

“If it’s for your dad—”

“It’s only August. I’ll get to another game.” When she smiled like that, he couldn’t find it in him to protest.

“Thanks.”

She bypassed his outstretched hand and set the cap on his head herself. Nate groaned as she moved in close enough to give his nose a reminder of the maple toaster pastries they’d had for breakfast.

But he stood patiently while she frowned, then turned the bill around to the back. Then she pulled it back to the front. “I don’t know which way I like better—the professional man of duty and honor. Or—” she flipped the bill around to the back and tapped her lips as if she was studying some classic work of art “—the boyish, flirty look that shows off those eyes.”

Boyish
and
flirty
had never been a part of Nate Kellison.

Until Jolene.

Even now, he wasn’t sure what she saw in his old soul that made her think he could ever be young and carefree. But he felt like trying.

He plucked the cap from her grasp and turned it around, pulling the brim low enough to shade his eyes.
“How about the let’s-get-down-to-business-and-get-some-work-done look?”

She stood back and grinned in a way that tickled him down to his toes. “That works, too. You want me to get the horses?”

She’d gotten down to the second step before he grabbed her by the elbow and stopped her. He circled around and stood on the ground in front of her, meeting her at eye level and blocking her path.

“No. One horse. You’re staying here to check the other animals while I ride out.” He deftly changed the subject before she could argue. “Did you have any luck contacting your father?”

She raised an eyebrow indignantly, telling him she recognized the diversion tactic for what it was. But she answered, anyway. “The ground lines and cell phone are both still out of order. I wish I hadn’t left my truck at Lily’s so we could try the radio again.”

“That truck couldn’t have made it over the roads, much less cross-country the way we came yesterday.”

“I know. I just feel so isolated. No communication, no running water. And since the generators have run out of juice, no electricity. Just us.”

Was the
us
a good thing or a bad thing? Not wanting to dwell on the possible answer, Nate released her. “There’s a lot to be said for peace and quiet.”

She crossed her arms and squinched up her face in a disbelieving frown.

Oh, right, Nate thought. “Peace” and “quiet” probably weren’t in her vocabulary.

“Let’s get to work,” she said. “I’ll try to reach Dad again a little later.” Her defensive posture melted in a
heart-deep sigh. “I just hope he’s okay. I hope everyone in Turning Point is okay.”

Reading her concern, feeling her pain like a wound inside himself, Nate reached out and caught that wayward tendril of golden hair that fell across her downturned face. He rolled the silky strand between his sensitized fingertips before brushing it across her soft cheek and tucking it behind her ear. With a nudge of his palm against her jaw, he tilted her face up to his. “He’s probably more worried about you than anything. But I’m sure he’s fine. You had to get those lucky, hard-headed survival genes from someone. From the sound of things, I gather your mom isn’t the hang-tough-when-the-chips-are-down type.”

“Yeah, my dad’s the tough one. On the outside, at least.” She offered him a game smile that was equal parts gratitude and reassurance. “But I had you to help me. Whether or not I thought I needed you, you turned out to be pretty handy to have around.”

Nate shrugged and let his hand slide down to cup the side of her neck. “Well, what’s left of me, anyway.”

Jolene’s smile flatlined. “Don’t do that.”

Snatching his hand away, Nate wondered how he’d overstepped the boundaries of familiarity when they’d held each other for warmth and comfort all through the night. “Sorry.”

“Don’t put yourself down. Don’t pretend that there’s something broken or inferior about you. You’re not disabled.”

“Jolene—”

“I’ve seen you in action, cowboy.” She pricked up like a scrawny hen defending her nest, skin flushed,
blue eyes blazing. She poked him harmlessly in a bruise-free spot at the center of the chest, and he wisely retreated a step. “And while I’m sorry that your leg’s busted and your shoulder’s torn up and you’ve got a lot to deal with on the inside, that’s not what I see when I look at you.”

Nate propped his hands on his hips. He’d gotten lectures like this from his sister. But then, Jackie was his sister. She was supposed to jump his case from time to time to get him off his pity pot.

“Okay, Miss Smarty-Pants. Tell me what you think you see. And then I’ll get you straight to the ophthalmologist.”

Jolene counted the points off on her fingers. “Your eyes. Gorgeous color and they say a lot. Right now I’m ignoring their message, but it’s coming through loud and clear.”

He narrowed said eyes into a skeptical frown as she hit finger number two.

“Broad shoulders. They have to be with all the responsibility you insist on carrying on them.”

Third finger. He wasn’t convinced. “Hands. They…well, they…” Her cheeks seared a rosy pink. She inhaled a deep, steadying breath that shamelessly drew his gaze to the rise of her breasts. She swallowed hard. He took note of that movement, too. “I seem to recall mentioning magic of some kind.”

Jolene had made the magic, Nate realized. She
was
the magic. He’d just responded to it. Helplessly. Hungrily.

In a flash of vivid memory, Nate pictured all the things his hands had done to her on the couch, all the things he still wanted to do. And later that night, the way he’d simply gotten to massage her neck, to hold her
through the trailing edge of the storm. He’d found a comfort, a sense of peace that was every bit as humbling as her body’s feverish reactions to the stroke of his hands and mouth.

Things were getting stiff behind the zipper of his jeans again. And despite every common sense rule he tried to apply to his life, his palms itched with the desire to touch her again. To reclaim the feeling of home and heaven that he’d found with Jolene in his arms.

Nate wavered. Jackie’s talks never went like this.

Jolene held up the fourth finger. “Your backside.”

“My backside?”

“That’s right. Your tush.” Now she was making light of things again, talking up a streak to press her point. “I took an informal survey among eligible females here on the ranch, and we decided we like the view going as much as we like the one heading toward us.”

“
We
decided?”

“Take the compliment, California. And don’t put yourself down in front of me again. Now get out of here. I have work to do.”

Nate wanted to believe she saw him as this studly guy who could deliver. But it was just the situation talking. The whole Adam and Eve thing. Being the only man and woman for miles probably made him look pretty good for a change. They’d been forced together by disaster and had stuck together to survive, just as Turning Point’s very first settlers had.

But someone handsomer, more whole, and a helluva lot more
boyish
would show up once the flood waters receded. Then he’d revert to being Jolene’s beat-up partner and unwanted protector. And maybe, just maybe, a friend.

But he wouldn’t hope for anything more. He’d be a sucker if he believed half of what she’d just said about him.

But she was right about one thing. The sun would get hot by the afternoon. They’d better get to work.

Nate had always been able to set aside his own needs and fears to get the job done. “When I get back, I won’t find you up on the roof trying to patch the leaks and replace the shingles, will I?”

“I don’t know. It depends on how long it takes you to fix things up out here and track down Rocky. I’m going to check the animals first. Then I’ll find the ladder.”

“Jolene—”

“Just kidding. Well, a little. I want to clean up the living room and the kitchen. Then I’ll tackle the roof.”

“No.” Man, she was killing him with this kind of teasing. At least he prayed she was teasing. Even though the storm had passed, his duties watching over Jolene Kannon-Angel clearly weren’t finished. “Stay off the roof.”

“Work fast,” she countered, without giving him the promise he needed to hear. “I’ll wait as long as I can for you to help me.”

“Uh-uh. No ladders, no roof.”

She gave him a gentle nudge back toward the barn. “You’d better get started on that pen. I promise, no climbing until you’re there to hold the ladder.”

“No climbing, period.”

“Go. And don’t let Rocky catch you unaware.”

Maybe he did believe a little of what she’d said. Before she could turn to march back up the steps, Nate snaked his hand behind her neck, tunneled his fingers into the root of her braid and tipped her head back for his kiss.

It was a perfunctory meeting of mouths and spirits. She braced her hands at his waist, curled her fingers through his belt loops. Her lush lips parted beneath his and he staked his claim—for the moment—and informed her in no uncertain terms that he meant business. When he pulled away, he took her moist heat, her breathless sigh, and the sweet, maple taste of her with him.

She couldn’t ignore his message now. Or the worry behind it. “No roof.”

“Okay.”