Wanted: Fairy Godmother (17 page)

Jake gained ground, galloping, and then nearly overtaking Stan’s mount. Stretching, Jake grabbed Stan’s belt, curling his fingers over the leather strap in a death-like grip. “Take the reins, Callie! Slow his mount down and make yours follow suit. I’ll do the same to mine.”

She must have heard; she did as he bade. For heart-stopping, long minutes, she eased the horses’ pace from an all-out neck-breaking gallop, to a teeth-chattering trot, to a strutting canter, down to a slow walk, and then a complete halt.

Sweat dripped from Jake’s forehead as he yanked Stan, along with his saddle, to an upright position. The boy barely resembled himself. His chalk-like, pasty flesh, pulled tight over his cheekbones, and round, wide eyes, minus the glasses, seemed to say it all. He’d had one hell of a scare.

“Come on, I’ll help you down.” Jake pulled, but met resistance. Looking, he noticed Stan’s white-knuckled grasp on the saddle horn. Jake chuckled.

Callie’s laughter followed, warming his heart and sweeping away the remnants of his anxiety.

“You can let go now, Stan,” Callie said, casting a sunny smile to Jake, her first genuine smile in ten days. Tiny thrills shot down his spine.

“I can’t,” Stan whispered. “But once I’m down, I’m never getting on a horse again.”

A sliver of alarm snared Jake. He grew concerned at the conviction in Stan’s hoarsely spoken words. Glancing at Callie, he saw the lingering mirth in her eyes and knew she’d fix everything. Wasn’t that part and parcel for his fairy godmother anyway?

***

Callie stood, squashed between Les in front of her and Jake behind her, in the lunch line. She waited patiently for Lance to dole out each cowhand’s heaping portion. But her mind stayed fixated on the disturbing cowboy brushing against her back. Jake’s presence, so close and so agonizing, unnerved her.
I love him so much it hurts.

His brief, tantalizing touches sent quivers along her nerve endings. His breath, hot and sweet, tickled her neck and fanned the embers of her desire she barely kept suppressed. Memories of that one sizzling night of unrestrained passion bubbled to the surface of her mind.

She detected Jake’s musky scent floating around her in a cloud-like oasis. Licking her lips, she recalled the way he tasted from that night, rich and honeyed.

That night,
she thought,
that earth-shattering experience branded itself in every fiber of her being
. If she hoped spending time in his arms would appease the deep, tugging sensation in her core, she’d discovered otherwise.

In fact, the yearning hunger grew in epic proportions, obliterating nearly everything else. She knew that years from now, on her deathbed, that would be the last achingly blissful time she’d reminisce about, dying with a soft, lingering smile on her lips.

For now, she had little sanity to hang on to, except her job.
At least I still have that,
she mused, amazed he hadn’t fired her on the spot, yet knowing he kept her on only for his cousins’ welfare.

The cold, hard truth stung: She and Jake had become strangers after being lovers. He needed time to accept her, accept the changes.

But dare she wait for him to come back to her? Would he even want to? Was it hopeless?

Pushing him would do her little good, perhaps even creating a wider chasm between them. The unbearable length of passing days without a shift in the tense, suffocating situation only added to her despair. The longer she did nothing, the more likely he’d plot his freedom from her, forever.

She had no choice but to do something, anything, to shake him out of this lethargy. Humor had always worked wonders for her in the past. But would it work now?

Jake reached around, clasping her left hand, surprising her. His hand-warm, large and strong-cupped hers tenderly. An electric current zapped her from the point of contact, traveling swiftly along her sensitive flesh.

“Your hand,” he said, stroking his thumb over her raw, red chafed palm where the reins bit into her when she helped rescue Stan. “Why didn’t you tell me?” Accusation ran in his tone. She sensed it had more to do with her being CJ than her battered flesh.

“It’s nothing, really.” Her voice sounded breathy even to her own ears. But for the life of her, she didn’t possess enough strength to pull her hand free of his erotic, sensual touch. She’d dream about this for days now.

“See that you put something on it,” he said gruffly, dropping her hand and nudging her forward when Les departed with his steaming hot chuck wagon stew and several mouthwatering biscuits. Jake’s hand pressed into the small of her back, guiding her, arousing her.

***

Several minutes later, Jake hunkered down across from a still shaking Stan. Callie sat beside Stan, cross-legged and quietly munching on a biscuit.

“I should have learned how to cook like Lance,” Marvin muttered, walking gingerly past. “I doubt if my legs or butt will ever be the same again.”

Jake smiled knowingly. The first spring round-up for anyone proved to be the hardest. The boys would toughen up soon and learn to love it just as he did.

“Howdy, folks,” Gus said, joining the loosely formed circle of cowhands eating their noontime meal. “Sure smells good. Aren’t you going to even take a taste, Stan?”

“I’m not hungry.” Stan looked green as he set his plate on the grass beside him.

“Don’t let a little ride scare you, kid,” Lester said, finishing his meal and pulling out a fresh toothpick from his top pocket. “Happens to the best of us when the horse puffs up when we saddle her. All you gotta do is tap them on the underbelly and whoosh, they let all the air out, then you can get the cinch strap nice and tight.”

“Thanks, Les, but I’m not getting back on a horse.
Ever
.” He spat the last word, throwing down a challenge.

Jake’s belly dipped as if a bull charged him. Wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, he shot the boy a quelling glare.

“I’m not, Jake. And you can’t make me! If I’ve got to stay on this ranch and help with the round-ups then I’m getting a dirt bike or a four-wheeler.”

“Hey,” Marvin piped up. “What about a helicopter? I’ll take lessons and by this time next year, I can fly it during round-up season. It’ll be awesome swooping down and herding cattle that way.”

The bull not only charged Jake but kicked him in the gut as well. He nearly grunted out loud at the physical reaction to their plans. Tossing his half-empty plate aside, Jake said, “Not on your life. This ranch always has been and always will be run on tradition. We do things the old-fashioned way, where a hard day’s work means something and we work side by side on horseback.”

Gus pointed out, “Well, son, who’s to stop him if you ain’t here?”

A wave of anger washed over Jake, leaving him hot and boiling. He scowled at the silent gawking men surrounding him, and then at Callie. Sympathy chased across her face, jolting him. He didn’t want her pity. He stood abruptly, and then stalked off, muttering, “Ah hell!”

Jake leaned his forearms on the top rail of the holding pen for the calves. The animals, pressed together, cried woefully, missing their mothers.

A coil of rope sat inside Jake, wound up tight. The gnawing sensation eating away at his chest never ceased. Blowing out a puff of hot air, he shoved his hat to the back of his head and pressed his forehead on his clasped hands.

He couldn’t force his cousins into doing a damn thing. And once he left, they would have the run of the place, including adding a heap of new gadgets and machinery. If he wanted the place run like Duke wished, Jake knew he’d have to stay for the duration.

The part of him that still hankered after his freedom lashed out, plaguing and stabbing at his mind. And the need to still prove himself reared its head. He couldn’t give up his last chance at the championship.

At least when Duke had been alive, Jake hadn’t felt so tied down to the place, didn’t have to worry about every little detail, every piece of paper.

He’d ridden, roped, and come and gone every spring as he pleased. But everything had changed the moment Duke had died. The burden and duties had crashed down on Jake’s shoulders, smothering him.

And then his aunt and uncle had been killed. Being the guys’ only living relative, at least on paper, he couldn’t turn his back on them.

But the overwhelming responsibility of raising them, of being saddled to the ranch for years to come, had nearly suffocated him.

And it didn’t look like it would get better any time soon; each day he began to realize how unsuited the trio were for this lifestyle. Stan’s rebellion was only the latest proof in the growing list of incidences.

“Hey, Cowboy, you keeping that post all to yourself?” Callie’s voice sounded like music to his ears, soft and lilting.

He felt the corners of his mouth lift upward of their own accord. Twisting his head, he caught a glimpse of her. His heart rate beat an erratic rhythm at her sassy, sexy smile.

A flicker of pain came and went from her eyes, pain he bet he’d inflicted. His gut clenched. He straightened, keeping one arm on the rail and putting the other hand on his hip. “I don’t suppose I really get a say-so in the matter.”

She giggled, reminding him of little CJ. A warmth stole over him, chasing away the dark shadows of a second ago.

“Nope, you don’t.” Tilting her head to the side, she said, “You know if it were up to you and me, we’d still have cattle trails to move the herd.” She sighed wistfully. “Unfortunately, the modern world thinks otherwise. But, just once, I would love to do it like they did in the olden days, wouldn’t you? Gramps used to tell me the most wonderful tales passed down from generation to generation about the hot, dusty trails.”

A sharp, bittersweet tug pulled at his heart as if a rope linked him to her. Longing for her, and what she described, curled inside him. “Maybe we should have been born in a different time.”

“Yeah, maybe,” she said equally as soft.

For long minutes, she stood silently by his side.
Two kindred spirits,
Jake mused, feeling like one with her, feeling whole for only the second time in his life. The first being when he’d made love to her. The simmering tension of the last week and a half evaporated for the moment.

He realized the tender spot he once held for his pesky admirer had grown. Now, the remarkable woman had touched the deepest part of him and tapped into a pool of hidden emotions residing in his core.

I just want someone to love me.

“What is it you want, Jake? Your dearest, most heartfelt desire?” She leaned close, close enough for a waft of her wildflower scent to tickle his nose and his nerve endings. “Your freedom, right? Just ask your fairy godmother, and I’ll grant you your wish.”

Her earnest appeal made him chuckle. How in the world could she give him that when being with her, just looking at her brought frightening visions of a lasting life with her?

She came nearer, only scant inches from him. Her eyes, light and breathtaking, held an urgent, almost desperate need. “Ask me, Jake.”

Liquid fire suffused his body. His head buzzed with the intoxicating sight of her. His senses sharpened, heightened. Gut-wrenching yearning gripped him, refusing to release him from her spell. He closed his eyes, breaking the contact, but not the magic. Looking at her once again, he swallowed hard. “All right, can you give me my freedom?”

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he realized the double-edged meaning. She had to cut the ties and put an end to this erotic entanglement.
Because I sure the hell can’t.

She smiled sadly. “Abracadabra.” Callie waved an imaginary wand. “Your wish is granted, Jake Lassiter. You’re free.”

“If only it were that simple.”

“It is. It’s your choice.” She took a deep, shaky breath. “All you have to do is sign over guardianship of your cousins to me. I’ll stay here, look after them, guide them, and do whatever it takes until Lance reaches eighteen. At that time, they’ll be considered adults and won’t have to worry about social workers taking them away.”

Shock sliced through him. A dull roar blasted in his ears, growing in intensity.
Give up my cousins? Had he heard her right?

Once he regained a semblance of control, he asked, “You want the boys? Why? What’s in it for you?”

“They need a home and someone to care for them. As for me, you can go on paying me the same rate. In three years, I just might have enough money socked away to buy Gramps’ ranch off you or whoever will own this place by then.”

He frowned, still stunned and with an emptiness inside.

On tiptoe, she stood and gave him a kiss on the cheek. The soft, delicate touch stirred him. She drew away, turning to leave. He grabbed her hand, halting her.

“Why are you doing this?” He searched her gaze, now moist and filled with love. His heart hitched.

“Because, silly, I’m your fairy godmother, and I want you to be happy and see that all your dreams come true.”

Unconditional love.

She pulled away then, but he held onto her as long as possible, her palm stroking his, her fingers brushing his, and fingertips sensuously sliding across his.

His heart stilled at her explanation, and then kicked into high gear, thundering in his chest. He watched her walk away, a tiny sway in her hips. Craving stabbed him. And a deep-seated feeling merged and grew, sweeping away the lingering remnants of cobwebs tangled with denial.

“Ah hell,” he whispered, discovering the truth, accepting his fate. His fairy godmother waved her magic wand, transforming him into a man deeply, irrevocably in love.

Callie released the wailing calf, the heavy, stinging scent of branded hair and hide filling her nostrils. And the distinctive hiss, mingled with the familiar sounds of vocal cowhands and bawling cattle all around her, echoed in her mind. She straightened. With one hand rubbing her sore back, she swiped the back of her other hand across her damp brow.