Taming Jesse James (20 page)

“And those loose ends were more important than Sarah?”

“No. But I had a job to do. If I had focused on that job in the first place, none of it would have happened.”

He hadn't meant to say that. Not to Cassie, who knew him too damn well. She stared at him, then her eyes narrowed. “This is why you didn't stay when she needed you last night? Because you think it's your fault Sylvester got to her?”

He didn't answer. He didn't need to.

“You're an even bigger idiot than I thought,” she snapped.

“Just back off, Cass. This is none of your business.”

“It is my business when two people I care about are hurting. You're not responsible for what Hob Sylvester did, Jess.”

“No. But I was responsible for keeping Sarah safe, and I failed.”

She came around to his side of the desk and perched
on the edge of it. After a moment spent studying him, she sighed. “This is about what happened with Mom and Dad, isn't it?”

He opened his mouth to argue, then closed it again. The night before, he had experienced the same grim helplessness he had felt climbing up the mountainside after the accident. Knowing his parents were down there dying while he tried to claw his way to help. Knowing his father probably would have seen that patch of black ice and been able to avoid it if he hadn't been arguing with him at the time.

Knowing he couldn't fix this, that he would have to live with the harsh guilt of failure for the rest of his life.

All those feelings and more had plowed through him the night before as he had rushed after Sarah.

Once more he had failed to save someone he loved.

“Oh, Jess.” Cassie must have read all those things in his face. She touched his cheek tenderly and he had to fight the urge to wrap his arms around his little sister and cry like a baby.

After a moment, she cleared her throat. “None of it was your fault. Not Mom and Dad's accident and not what happened to Sarah.”

“I should have been able to keep her safe.”

Cassie shook her head. “You can't save the whole world, Jess.”

“I didn't need to save the whole world. Just Sarah.”

Cassie was quiet for a moment, then she spoke softly. “Did it ever occur to you that maybe this time she needed to rescue herself? If only to prove to herself that she could?”

He stared at her, struck speechless by her words. By her wisdom.

Why hadn't he seen it? He had been so consumed with guilt at not saving Sarah, at letting Sylvester get to her, that he hadn't thought about how empowering it must have been for Sarah to fight back against Sylvester when she was threatened this time.

To fight back and to win.

He thought of her attack in Chicago. Where on earth had she found the kind of courage to defend herself against Sylvester, especially when she knew the consequences better than anyone else? When she had lived through those very consequences and still had the scars to prove it, both physical and emotional.

A hot, fierce pride settled in his heart. His brave Sarah.

“I'm no expert in this area,” Cassie went on. “Heaven knows, I've made a mess of my own life. But I have the feeling the two of you could share something special. Something rare and precious. Don't let the past get in the way of your future.”

She was right. That was exactly what he was doing. He was throwing away the best thing that had ever happened to him because he was afraid. If Sarah could be brave enough to fight for her life, couldn't he be brave enough to fight for his?

Yes. Hell, yes.

“Thanks, brat.” He kissed her forehead, then headed for the door.

“Where are you going?” she asked.

He grinned, his first smile since the afternoon before, when he had seen Sarah's empty car. “School. It looks like I still have a few things to learn.”

S
he had a feeling it was going to be a very difficult day. School had been in session for only an hour and she already felt exhausted, as wrung out as a wet, soapy dishrag.

Maybe she should have found a substitute today. With only another two weeks of school before summer vacation, her students were wired, wriggling around in their seats and chattering incessantly.

After the trauma of the day before and a night spent staring at the ceiling—longing for something she couldn't have—she wasn't sure she had the energy to keep up with them.

On the other hand, she had only a few more days with her class and she hated to miss a minute of it.

Right now their restlessness had been moderately contained while they painted watercolors under Janie Parker's instruction, but she feared the brief respite wouldn't last.

“Miss McKenzie?”

She glanced up to find Corey standing at her desk, shifting from foot to foot. The boy had been wary around her since school started, giving her furtive, watchful looks all morning.

She knew she would have to talk to him at some point about what had happened the day before, about what his father had done to both of them, but she didn't want to push him. He would talk to her when he was ready.

And it looked as if the time was now. “Hi,” she said softly.

He swallowed hard. “I, um, I made you a picture.” He held it out. “The paint's still a little wet.”

“Thank you, Corey!” Touched beyond words, she took it carefully, treating it like the treasured prize it was. “This is really lovely.”

“I know you like flowers and stuff. That's what it is.”

Her heart crested, overflowed, and she felt the hot sting of tears. “I can see. You're very good, Corey. When it dries, I'll have it framed and hang it on my wall so I can look at it and be in a garden anytime I want. Even in the middle of winter.”

He gave her a small, pleased smile, but she could tell he was still troubled. He stood there chewing on his lip for several moments. She waited patiently, knowing he would get around to it sooner or later.

“I'm real sorry about what happened to you, Miz McKenzie.” He finally blurted out the words all in a rush.

Tears shimmered in his eyes. “It's my fault he took you. I should have told someone he was back. He told
me not to, but I shouldn't have listened. If I had told, Chief Harte might have found him before he hurt you.”

He sniffled, then one tear slid down through his freckles, then another and another. She couldn't bear his distress any longer. Teary herself, she gathered him against her. “Shhh. Sweetheart, it's okay. None of it was your fault. I know it wasn't your fault.”

“I didn't want to see him anymore, but he made me. Said I was a Sylvester, too, and I needed to spend time with my old man. I thought he would hurt my mom or Maddie if I didn't go.”

“I know.”

He swiped at his eyes with his sleeve and she handed him a tissue. “Do you hate me now because I was too chicken to tell and lied about everything? About Hob taking the school quarters and the mark on my back and everything else?”

“Oh, Corey. No. Of course not.” How could she tell him she knew all too well what it was to share your life with the snarling creature fear could be? “On the contrary. I'm very proud of you. Even though you were afraid of your father, you finally did the right thing last night and told Chief Harte where to find me. It was a very brave thing to do.”

He colored and looked down at her desk, mumbling a denial. She smiled at the top of his head. She had been right about Corey. Inside this troubled, rebellious child lurked a sweet boy who painted flowers for his teacher because he knew she liked them.

“So we're still friends?” Corey asked.

“The best,” she assured him. “Now, why don't you take your seat again for the rest of art class?”

He nodded. With a watery smile he turned and started to return to his seat, then froze, his head turned
toward the doorway of the class. Sarah followed his gaze and her heart began a fierce, slow rhythm.

Jesse's broad shoulders filled the door frame. He wore his police uniform, complete with Stetson and sidearm, and he looked big and masculine and wonderful. Her love for him was a thick, heavy ache in her chest.

He was watching Corey and she held her breath, praying Jesse wouldn't ruin the progress she had just made with the boy, that he wouldn't be angry with him for the secrets he had been forced to keep.

She should have known better. Jesse's expression held no condemnation. Though he said nothing, the look he shared with Corey was warm and approving. The boy basked in it. As he walked the rest of the way to his desk, his shoulders were a little bit straighter, his head a little higher.

Jesse's gaze returned to her and Sarah felt heat crawl up her cheekbones. She thought of the vast chasm between them the night before, the cold distance he had placed between them. Her emotions were already so ragged she wasn't sure she could endure more this morning.

He opened his mouth to speak to her, but before he could, Dylan and Lucy spied their uncle. They rushed to him, chattering eagerly. He returned their hugs, but his gaze never left Sarah's face as he bent his head to speak to the girls.

From her desk at the other side of the room, she couldn't hear more than the murmur of his low voice, but the girls' eyes widened. They looked at him, then back at their teacher with such amazed expressions that she could only wonder with a little clutch of apprehension what he had said to them.

The girls rushed back to their seats and Jesse straightened. The noisy bustle of her classroom seemed to fade into a dull murmur, leaving just the two of them.

“Miz McKenzie, may I speak with you out in the hall?”

Please. She couldn't break down in the middle of class. She cast her eyes around the classroom looking for an excuse and found Janie watching them both, her expression filled with avid curiosity.

“Go, Sarah,” the art teacher said. “I've got everything covered in here.”

Thanks for nothing. Left with no alternative, she rose slowly from her desk and followed him out into the hall, steeling her heart against more of this painful reserve.

“This really isn't a good time for me to give a statement,” she said when the door was closed firmly behind her. “Could we do it after school?”

“I'm not here to take your statement.”

“No?”

He shook his head but didn't elaborate, just watched her out of those blue eyes that saw entirely too much. Could he tell she had stayed up most of the night silently weeping over him? Over her own foolishness in offering her heart to a man who didn't want it?

She sincerely hoped not.

“How's your hand?” he asked.

Whatever she thought he might say, she hadn't expected that. “I…fine. Showering was a little tricky, but I managed. It's a little sore, but nothing I can't handle.”

“I know. Have I ever told you how your ability to
cope with anything life throws at you never ceases to amaze?”

How was she supposed to answer that? Flustered, she looked down at her bandaged hand, then back into his blue eyes that watched her so steadily. “I'm sorry, Jesse. Art class will be over in a few moments and I have to get back to my class. If you're not here for a statement, how can I help you?”

“By forgiving me.”

She blinked at him, stunned by the intensity of his words. “There's nothing to forgive.”

“As my baby sister so bluntly informed me this morning, I was an idiot last night.”

Had Cassie heard her weeping last night from the guest room? She must have, even though Sarah had tried fiercely to muffle her sobs with her pillow. Mortified heat soaked her cheeks and she swallowed hard, focusing her gaze on the brown carpet. “It doesn't matter.”

“It matters to me. I hurt you. I would give anything to take it back, but I can't.”

He was quiet for a long time, until she finally had to look up, to meet his glittering blue gaze. He reached for her hand, the bandaged one, and held it tenderly. “My only excuse is that I've never been in love before.”

She stared at him. “What did you say?”

“I said I've never been in love before.”

“And you…you are now?”

He smiled. “Don't sound so shocked, sweetheart. Why do you think I've been acting like an idiot? A certain schoolteacher I know is tying me up in knots inside.”

She looked so astonished by the idea—then so in
trigued—that if he hadn't already realized he loved her, he would have tumbled headfirst right then.

“I love you, Sarah,” he murmured.

There. That wasn't so bad. Would her face go all soft, her eyes all bright, every time he said it? He couldn't wait to find out.

She sniffled. “You do?”

“Completely.”

“Why?”

He laughed outright. “You're not supposed to ask me why. You're just supposed to accept it.”

“How would you know? You said you've never done this before.”

She had a point there. “Okay. Why do I love you? Because you're sweet and brave and wonderful and you make me feel like a better person when I'm with you.”

There were stars in her eyes when she murmured his name, and he couldn't stand it any more. He had to kiss her.

“Wait,” she said when he bent his head.

Jesse groaned and rested his forehead against hers. “You're killing me here, sweetheart. Do you need more reasons why I love you? There's plenty more where those came from. It just might take me a minute. I'm afraid I'm not thinking too clearly right now.”

She shook her head, laughing a little at his disgruntled tone. “Later, maybe. I just wanted you to know that I…I feel the same way.”

“Good,” he said, reaching for her again.

No. She couldn't get away that easily, she had to say the words. “I love you, Jesse Harte. Because you're kind and strong and wonderful, and you made me laugh when I didn't think I ever could again.”

He gazed at her, his blue eyes dark with emotion, then he cleared his throat. “Now can I kiss you?”

She smiled and wrapped her arms around his neck. He swept her to him, then that hard, beautiful mouth was on hers, full of love and joy and promise. She forgot where they were, forgot the aching loss of the night before, forgot everything but the wonder of being in his arms.

“What is the meaning of this?”

She gasped at the interruption and would have pulled away, but Jesse held her tight, looking over her head at the principal. She watched that devil's smile take over and he spoke in the slow drawl he sometimes used. “Well, see, Chuck, it's called kissing and it can be a real kick when you're doing it with the right person.”

He turned that slow, sexy smile in her direction and Sarah forgot to breathe.

The principal glared at both of them. “Yes, Chief Harte, I believe I know what kissing is. I also know it doesn't belong in the classroom.”

Jesse just shrugged. “I guess that's why we're out in the hall, then, Chuck.”

It took every ounce of control to hold on to her laughter while the principal tried to figure out how to answer that. Eventually he gave up, just returned to his office with a grunt, and her laughter bubbled out. “You are a troublemaker, Jesse Harte.”

“I've been trying to tell you, I'm reformed. Haven't you been listening?” After a moment, his grin faded and a hint of uncertainty appeared in his eyes. “I've had a pretty wild past, Sarah. Done plenty of things I'm not proud of. I want you to know that up front.”

And she had been to hell and back. And survived.

“The past doesn't matter,” she said. “It's where we go from here that's important.”

He swept her into his arms again. When he finally broke the kiss this time, they were both breathless.

“Um, looks like we've drawn a crowd.” His voice came out strangled.

She glanced back at her classroom door and found most of her students peering at them through the small window. Lucy and Dylan were right in the front, their eyes huge and their mouths hanging open.

“I guess Chuck is right,” Jesse muttered. “This really isn't the place for this.”

She stared at him in astonishment. “You're blushing! I can't believe you're blushing!”

“Look what a terrible influence you are already!”

She laughed. “Don't change too much. See, I've got this thing for bad boys…”

For this one, anyway.