Runaway Cowboy (5 page)

“Dammit, Jennifer!” She heard the truck door slam as he ran after her. “Will you stop for two seconds and just listen? You don't have this all figured out, no matter what you think.”

Clay grabbed her arm, and she spun on him, wildly swinging her purse at his head and jerking her arm from his grasp. “Don't touch me.”

He easily caught the purse in his hand and dropped it at his feet as he pulled her into his arms. “What do you have in that thing? Bricks?”

“Let go of me, Clay,” she said through gritted teeth, twisting, trying to release herself from his grasp.

“Only if you let me explain.”

Every inch of her that was in contact with him burned with icy flames. The heat of his hands on her arms sent warmth running down her spine to melt her limbs and ignite the desire pooling in her belly. She wanted to push him away, to run to her trailer and stay there until he went back to wherever he'd been hiding, but when her eyes met his, pleading with her to listen to him, she couldn't deny herself just one more moment with him. How was she supposed to keep hating him when her body wouldn't follow her commands?

“You have five minutes.” One for each year she hadn't heard from him. He released her cautiously. She walked back to the truck, knowing he would follow, and flipped the tailgate down. She hopped up on it, letting her legs dangle. When he sighed and scrubbed a hand over his jaw, she quirked a brow. “Time's ticking Clay. Start talking.”

“You know, for someone who seems to think she has everything figured out better than the rest of us, you sure can be irresponsible. What were you thinking going into that bar?”

Jen almost let her mouth fall open at the audacity of his accusation. She bit the inside of her cheek until the metallic taste of blood forced her to stop.

She jumped from the back of the truck. “That was some explanation. I can't believe I waited this long for it.”

Clay's fingers circled her wrist as she started to walk away. “I have at least three minutes left.”

He pulled her back toward him, drawing her against his chest as one arm circled around her waist. His other hand buried into her long hair, and she gasped in surprise as his mouth found hers. Her body betrayed her again, melting against him as her bones seemed to turn to molten lava. Her fingers dug into the muscles of his shoulders, but she wasn't sure if it was to keep her balance or because she couldn't resist touching him. His mouth was gentle, in spite of their argument, as if he wanted to savor this kiss, to taste her, to force the memories of the tenderness they'd once shared to the surface. Clay nipped at her lower lip, testing her resolve, and when she didn't protest, he plunged ahead. His tongue swept against hers as she slid her hands over his shoulders before curling her fingers around the nape of his neck, twining into his hair.

Clay's lips trailed over her cheek and jaw. “I've missed you, Jen. You have no idea how much.”

The reality of their situation hit her. What in the hell was she doing? This was the same man who'd walked away and left her with nothing more than a diamond solitaire encircling the broken shards of her heart, all without so much as a backward glance. How could she have forgotten the pain, the agony, as the years passed without even a call to break the silence? She shoved him away and reached into her pocket.

“I could tell from all the phone calls, letters, and messages you sent over the past five years.” She saw his eyes cloud with frustration. She stared down at the ring glinting between her thumb and forefinger.

“When you left, I thought I was going to die. I loved you Clay. I loved you more than I ever thought it was possible for me to love anyone. And you showed me that none of that mattered. You threw it all away. You still haven't told me why.” She held the ring out to him. “I want you to leave again. Disappear. But this time, don't come back.”

She slapped the ring into his hand and turned on her heel, walking away before he could say anything.

S
HE WAS HAPPY
he didn't follow her.
She was
. But if that were true, then why did she keep checking over her shoulder? Why was it hard to breathe? Why did her heart ache as painfully as it did the last time he turned his back on her?

Things had always been explosive between them, too often like a wildfire, out of control. They fought passionately, but they loved just as a fiercely—at least that was what she'd thought. She pushed the memory of Clay's lips on hers away with near physical force. How could she have been stupid enough to let him kiss her like that? What the hell was he doing back here, and why was he bent on ripping her heart out again?

She slammed the door of her trailer and locked it. She needed some privacy and didn't want either of her brothers coming to check up on her.
Traitors.
She'd ignored several of their phone calls at the bar before finally checking in so they wouldn't worry about her hasty retreat, and Derek had given her up. What possessed him to send Clay after her? Well, that mistake would earn him a night sleeping in the seat of the pickup, the jerk.

She looked around the trailer for something, anything that might distract her. She reached for a glass and filled it with iced tea from the pitcher inside the refrigerator. She wasn't thirsty, the three glasses of club soda with lime at the bar had quenched any thirst, but she couldn't sit still.

She shook her head as she remembered Clay, charging into the bar, prepared to fight with the bikers because he thought she'd been too drunk to take care of herself. She didn't need his bravado. She'd been stone-cold sober. Like she'd ever have driven drunk after what happened to her parents. Now she had to find time tomorrow to go get her truck. The fact that he thought he could come riding back into her life, five years after leaving, and tell her what to do infuriated her. She inhaled deeply, trying to control her anger. Clay Graham could find some other damsel in distress to rescue because she had no use for him in his tarnished armor. She'd been taking care of herself and her brothers since she was in a training bra; she didn't need his help now.

She set the glass onto the counter and went into the bedroom, pulling out a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt, tossing them onto the bed before climbing into the shower. Maybe the hot water would wash away the frustration curling in her chest. It was bad enough that she was going to be forced to face Clay again tomorrow. She didn't want to deal with his presence at the ranch for the next week. She lathered her hair and sighed in defeat. At least back at the ranch, she could busy herself with the animals and avoid him.

Just one more day and you can head home.

Jennifer deeply inhaled the scent of coconuts and vanilla. It made her think of suntan lotion and sunny beaches. Maybe she just needed a vacation. Some place to sip piña coladas and relax while the ocean tickled her toes.

Sure, at the start of rodeo season. You might as well plan on taking a rowboat to the moon.

Her family needed her, and she wouldn't let them down. Not now or ever. Mike had done more than any man could be expected to do for his best friend's kids—he'd taken them in as his own and had taken Scott's side over his daughter's false accusations. In spite of Scott and Derek's most recent lapse of judgment, she knew they only had her best interests in mind. They would both do anything for her, the way she would for them. They were a tight family, and she wasn't about to let anything, or anyone, break that bond.

The banging on the front door jerked her from her thoughts, making her jump in surprise and nearly fall, her foot sliding in the conditioner on the shower floor. “I'm coming,” she yelled. “Derek, just hang on.”

Quickly rinsing her hair, she threw on clothes and wrapped a towel around her head before flipping the lock on the door and heading back to the bedroom. “I should make you sleep in the horse trailer after what you pulled today.” She dropped the wet towel onto the bed and reached for her comb.

“It wouldn't be the first time.”

Jennifer spun at the sound of Clay's voice, the wet strands of her long hair slapping against her face and sticking to her cheeks. “What are you doing in here?”

His green eyes glinted with humor, but that wasn't all she saw there. She refused to put a name to what she thought she recognized. “Well, you didn't exactly let me finish explaining.”

“And you weren't exactly talking,” she countered. “Look, Clay, I'm tired, and I don't feel like fighting with you. I just want to go to bed.”

“If you say so.” A slow, seductive smile spread over his full lips. He sat on the couch and pushed the toe of his boot against the heel of the other foot, repeating the motion with the opposite boot, then he stood and unbuckled his belt.

She glared at him, hoping he would get the hint that she wasn't in the mood for his childish games. “I seem to recall you couldn't get
out
of my bed fast enough. You're no longer welcome.” She turned and headed back for the bedroom door, reaching for her comb. “I assume you know the way out. You didn't seem to have trouble finding it last time.” It was a low blow, but when it came to Clay, her mouth seemed to operate without permission from her heart.

He moved silently to the bedroom and watched her brush out her hair. It made her self-conscious, and she jerked at the tresses, in a hurry to get away from his prying gaze. She glanced up to see him leaning against the doorframe, his eyes dark with the same yearning that was pulsing through her veins. Even now, in the face of his desertion, he made her breath catch and the blood pound like a bass drum, creating a swirling need that centered in her chest, beating against the walls of her heart.

Only Clay had ever made her feel this way. From the first time those green eyes met hers across the corral at the ranch, his heated gaze had a way of making her insides burn, while her skin tingled with anticipation of his touch. Damn him.

Her hands trembled, and she dropped her comb on the floor.
Way to look like he doesn't have you tied in knots, Jennifer.

He covered the distance between them, retrieving her comb. “Sit,” he ordered, pressing on her shoulder so she sat at the foot of the bed. Clay's hand slid under her hair, grazing the base of her neck, causing a shiver of delightful tingles to travel down the length of her spine. He closed his fist around her hair and carefully combed the snarls from the lower half. Once he finished, he released his grip and worked the comb from her roots to the ends. She bit back a sigh of bliss at his touch. Each stroke ignited sparks of need, miniature explosions of longing throughout her body. He rested his free hand on her shoulder, his fingers finding the curve of her neck. It was such a tender caress; she closed her eyes, allowing herself a moment of pure joy, a few seconds to imagine they were younger, in another time, before mistakes were made and hearts were broken.

Just the thought brought her back to the present, and her head fell forward, her chin dropping to her chest. She sighed. “Why did you come here?” she whispered.

He didn't speak for a long time, and she began to wonder if he had even heard her question. “I just wanted to apologize.”

Nothing more. He only wanted to assuage his guilt. The painful truth of his answer was nearly her undoing, as her heart made its own confession—she still loved him. He'd left her with her heart broken, bleeding, and betrayed, and she couldn't deny she still had feelings for him, but they simply weren't returned. She might want him; she just didn't want the pain that came with loving him. And she couldn't allow herself to fall prey again.

“I don't want you to,” she lied. “I will never forgive you for what you did.”

“I was protecting you.”

“No.” Jennifer rose and took the comb from his hand, careful not to touch him. “You were protecting yourself.” She walked to the trailer door and opened it. “Please, leave.”

Chapter Four

C
LAY HAD JUST
dropped into one of the folding chairs outside Scott's trailer when Scott joined him. “Trouble?”

He could see the humor in his friend's eyes and thought about punching him for a brief moment. “Shut up.” He dropped his head back and stared up at the stars. “What was I thinking?”

“Well, I guess that really depends on when you mean,” Scott said. “Now, or when you first left?”

Clay shrugged, not really expecting an answer to his rhetorical question.

“If the question doesn't matter, Clay, then neither does the answer.”

He shot Scott a sideways glare. “Sounds like you've been hanging around Mike too long.”

“Okay, here's a better question—are you happy with the way things have turned out since you left?”

“I don't know,” Clay confessed. “I thought leaving would be the best way to protect her. In a way it did, but in some ways, it did the opposite. I couldn't be two places at the same time.” He saw Scott looking at him skeptically and defended himself. “My brother had just been found dead. My mom needed my help.”

“You ran away and never even called her. Face it, you were scared.”

“I was twenty-two years old. I wasn't ready for a premade family. I didn't even know how to take care of myself, let alone support your sister and both of you.”

Scott sat up in his chair and leaned forward. “Who are you trying to kid? Jen never expected you to support her or us. We've been working with Mike since our parents died, and we all know this is a
family
business. We do it together.” The light above the door highlighted the muscle ticking in Scott's jaw as he narrowed his eyes. “She never asked you to step in and be our father. Matter of fact, she never asked you for anything, but she offered you everything. You were just too chicken to accept it, and so you crawled back into that pit you thought you were destined for.”