Runaway Cowboy (8 page)

Clay debated turning back to the barn, waiting for Derek to show up with his trailer so he could head out instead of staying. He should get his ass back to Oregon and let Jen move on with the life she'd made without him. Wasn't that what he was planning on doing next week anyway?

“Not now.” The words came out on a breath without him realizing he was even speaking them. But once they were out, Clay knew it was the absolute truth. He didn't want to go back to Oregon.

The truth was that his past had caught up to him almost five years ago when his brother had overdosed. Then his mother died two years later. Now, it was only his sister, Candie, who needed his help. Trouble seemed to follow her like a stray dog after scraps. And, if he was honest with himself, he was tired of being the one-man cleanup crew for his family. If he wanted to stay—and God help him, he did—he simply needed to tell Jen the truth about his past and let her make the decision.

“But you won't, because there's always that chance something might come up,” he muttered to himself. He would never allow anything to hurt Jen.

If that were true, then why was he still here?

J
ENNIFER COULD TIE
the gelding near the trees and let him graze without worrying about him spooking, but she knew how much Gunner liked to play in the water. She held the lead rope loosely in her fingers, allowing the colt to wade into the edge of the lake, almost to his knees. She smiled as he pawed at the water, splashing it over his belly and chest, flipping his nose up and down. Droplets hit her where she sat on a log near the shore. She laughed at the gelding's antics but stopped suddenly when chills ran down her spine.

She looked over her shoulder, scanning the horizon, unsure of what she was even searching for. Gunner wandered closer to her, rubbing his rough upper lip at her thigh, and she turned her attention back to him, reaching up to pat his shoulder. He was a good horse, and she was looking forward to using him at the next few rodeos. His head shot up, and he looked behind them, snorting loudly with alarm.

“What is it, buddy?” She stood up, turning to see what had riled him. She could barely make out a horse and rider cresting the hill, but she'd recognize Clay's massive physique anywhere. “I should've known.”

She watched as he rode toward her and wondered if it would be easier to mount up and head back to the barn or let him come and simply ignore his presence. What difference would it really make? He obviously had no interest in sharing why he'd left, and she wasn't willing to forgive him until he was honest with her. Maybe he'd get bored if she ignored him and leave her alone. Wasn't that what he did best?

The warmth that circled south of her belt buckle surprised her. No, there were other things he did far better. Jennifer stared at Clay's hands as he slid them over the mare's neck, dismounting and walking her toward the tree line. Jen couldn't help but remember the way those hands . . . She yanked the reins on her wandering imagination and walked Gunner back to the trees as well, looping his rope over a low branch with enough length for him to graze on the spring grass. She went back to the edge of the water, returning to her log, and picked up a handful of pebbles, toying with them as Clay approached.

The way he acted like he belonged here irritated her, as if he hadn't been gone for the last five years. But at one time he did belong, knew the property as well as she and her brothers did, maybe even better. Now, it just felt like he was a traitor.

“You okay?” he asked. She glanced back at him as he tied his mare near Gunner and headed toward her, stopping before he reached her, as if she were a flight risk and he didn't want to get close enough to frighten her.

She wasn't the one who had run away.

“Fine, why?” The nonchalance she'd been trying for wasn't what she heard in the sharp note of her voice.

Clay shrugged and sat down on the other end of the log. It wasn't wide, but it felt like miles separated them instead of less than a foot. “You only come here when you're upset.” He gave her a sideways glance, a grin pulling at the corner of his mouth. “Unlike your brothers.”

She knew he was trying to break the tension between them, but it was hard for her to just turn off the storm brewing inside. She shook her head and looked across the lake, avoiding the deep emerald of his eyes.

“What did they call it?” He chuckled.

“Make-Out Lake.”

“They always did have a way with the ladies.” Clay rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Who named it that anyway?”

“Knowing those two, your guess is as good as mine. Could have been either one.” She felt a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Why was it so easy to fall back into companionable conversation with him? Why couldn't she stay angry and bitter? She watched him search the ground and wondered what he was doing until he got up and picked up a flat rock, jostling it in his hand.

“You'd better not start anything you can't finish.”

Clay turned to face her, his eyes growing hot and dark, and she felt the heat rise to her cheeks as she realized how he could misconstrue her comment. She tried to recover quickly. “You know I can skip a rock three times as far as you can.”

“How do you know I haven't been practicing?” he asked, playfully challenging her, a dimple creasing his cheek.

Jen arched a brow.
Challenge accepted.

He knew her well enough to know that she would never let him make a claim he couldn't back up. “Let's see what you've got, big shot.” She dropped the pebbles from her hand and rose from the log, searching the bank for a few perfect skipping rocks.

Clay laughed, flicking his wrist and casting a rock over the water's surface. One . . . two . . . three . . . four. On his first one? His smile widened and his eyes filled with laughter. Jen's heart thudded almost painfully in her chest and her breath caught. Man, she'd really missed that smile. Did he have any clue how sexy he really was?

She bit her lip. “Do I have to go three times the distance or just farther?”

“We probably should have laid the ground rules before I threw. Let's say the winner is whoever gets the most skips.” He reached for another rock from the ground, bouncing it in his hand, checking the shape and weight like a pro.

She eyed him with distrust. “What's the prize?”

“What do you want?” His voice was husky, laced with innuendo, and she felt his gaze as it traveled over her.

Every limb in her body went weak as heat coursed through her, pooling in places only he seemed to awaken. Her chest heaved as she tried to catch her breath, the heat of his gaze drawing her closer to him, making her want to run her hands over him, to feel the valleys of hard muscle while his lips and hands banished their history in the wake of desire.

Realization dawned. As much as she wanted to believe it was just lust she felt for Clay, it wasn't true. She still loved him and needed him as much as she ever had. It didn't matter how badly he'd hurt her. She
wanted
to forgive him, still wanted to be his wife, and that insight was too dangerous to ever admit out loud.

“If I win, you leave and never come back.”

It physically hurt to say the words, but she tried to hide it by bending over, pretending to search for the perfect stone. In reality, she was trying to still the agony twisting and curling in her chest, squeezing her lungs and burning in the back of her eyes. She blinked back tears. She couldn't look at him, couldn't see that her wager meant nothing to him either way.

Clay took a long inhale and picked up two more stones as he considered her terms. “Best of three wins.” He dug a stone from the soft dirt on the bank. “But if I win, you have to have dinner with me.”

Her gaze snapped up to meet his. She stood, her shoulders ramrod stiff, before taking a step backward. “Dinner? That's it?” She looked at him with skepticism.

He shrugged. “Okay, dinner and you give me a kiss.”

Under normal circumstances, this bet would be a no-brainer. She'd been skipping rocks since she could walk and won every time her brothers challenged her. But she'd just seen what he did on a cold throw. It might be dumb luck, but Clay wasn't the type to make a bet on a whim. He was cautious, calculating. It also made her wonder why he chose something as simple as a kiss for his reward. By the look in his eyes, he was teasing her. She was nothing more than a game to him. A way to pass the time. She was a fool to think he might care. Win or lose, neither bet mattered to him in the end. He was still leaving at the end of the week.

She thrust out her hand defiantly. “Deal.”

His gaze fell to her mouth, and he gave her a cocky grin, ignoring her still extended hand. “Your throw.”

Jennifer bounced the flat stone in her hand, turned sideways and cocked her arm back. With a flick of her wrist, she sent the stone sailing, skimming the surface of the water.

“Ha! Five!” She did a little victory dance on the spot.

Clay chuckled at her antics. “Don't celebrate just yet.” He tossed his stone, matching hers skip for skip. “That was five. Now what?”

She repeated her movements, garnering only four this time, tying up their score. Clay smiled down at her. “Do you want to go, or do you want to have the last to throw?”

“Go right ahead.” She didn't want to admit she was nervous. He
must
have been practicing. There was a very real chance she might lose this bet. “I wouldn't want you to claim it wasn't a fair match.”

Even if the thought of being kissed by him again made her feel like molten lava inside, she wasn't going to let him see it.

“Trust me, it wasn't.” Clay let his last stone fly, and she watched in shock as it skipped five, six,
seven times.
On her best day, with a perfect stone, she had never made one skip that many times. Dread curled in her belly, winding around her lungs and gripping her heart. How was she going to be in his arms and
not
react to his touch, to not let him see how he was affecting her?

“Are you going to throw, or do you want to admit defeat now?” He winked at her, the dimple creasing his cheek again.

“I'm not admitting anything.” She bristled and her senses were on high alert, knowing her fate was as good as sealed.

Clay laughed. “Okay, then throw already.” Jennifer glared at him and tossed her stone, watching as it sank after only three skips. “That was pathetic. You want one more try?”

“And let you say I cheated? No way.” She planted her fists on her hips. Irritation flared in her chest at being bested. “Let's get this over with.”

She knew she was being abrasive to hide the emotions bubbling to the surface like a geyser, ready to erupt. The way he ignored her, sitting back down on the log, made her wonder if he didn't know it as well. She'd had a chance to remove the cause of her anxiety, not to mention the ache in her heart, and she'd blown it. Unfortunately, only her head was disappointed. Her body, betraying her, broke out with goose bumps at the thought of his touch.

“In a minute. Come, sit.”

He was up to something, and the suspicion sent a shiver of anticipation through her.

C
LAY WAS STALLING
, and it was driving her crazy. Jennifer didn't like losing at anything. As far as she was concerned, it meant she wasn't as in control as she wanted to believe, and Jen had to feel in control of everything. He wasn't going to let her rush this. He wanted to savor the moment leading up to kissing her, to enjoy the buildup of yearning and need he could feel throbbing in his veins. He could see the quick pulse in her neck as she sat; she was trying to ignore him and failing miserably. He watched her bite her lip and almost groaned at the tiny gesture, wishing it were his teeth biting her, his tongue soothing the flesh.

Longing raced through his blood, centering in his core, as he focused on every detail of her. She tucked a stray hair, blowing in the breeze, behind her ear before glancing his way, as if he wouldn't notice her watching him. He almost laughed as she wiped her palms over her thighs, slapping them against her legs.

“Okay, I'm sitting. Now what?”

“You never told me what's bothering you enough to bring you to Make-Out Lake.”

“I told you, nothing. I'm fine.”

He narrowed his eyes and edged closer to her on the log. “I don't believe you.”

“Believe what you want.” She rose. “Either take your kiss now or I'm leaving.”

He raised his brows at her false bravado. He could see her flush at the mention of kissing him. It was killing him to wait, to tease her with the anticipation, but he wanted her to admit, if only to herself, how much she wanted him before he took another step toward repairing their broken relationship. He might be a fool for even trying, but he wanted her forgiveness as much as he wanted her heart.

“In that big of a hurry to kiss me?”

She rolled her eyes. “It will be a cold day in hell before
I
kiss
you
.”

Clay lips curved upward. “Ah, but that was the bet. You kiss me
.
Not the other way around.” He saw her pale as she realized he was right; he'd chosen the words for the bet deliberately. He knew she'd been suspicious, but she obviously hadn't expected this.

Standing up, he took a step toward her. “You sure you wouldn't rather talk a little bit more, maybe tell me what was bothering you earlier? You know, keep stalling?”

She clenched her jaw, her eyes darkening, and he knew he'd hit the bull's-eye. He wasn't certain whether the look in her eyes was desire or anger, but he felt the sizzle down his back at the thought of finding out. It didn't take much to imagine how right it felt to kiss her, how she could make his blood boil with need, make him want to lock them both in a room and throw away the key. As long as he was with her, the rest of the world could be damned.