A Cowboy's Christmas Reunion. Sasha Summers
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blanket from the back of the couch over her before heading into the kitchen. He turned down the stove and put the salad back in the refrigerator. Dinner would keep—she needed sleep.
Once he’d turned off all the lights, he went to his desk and opened his laptop. He glanced at her, then at the desk. He’d had to patch the lid after Amy had ripped it off at the hinges. She couldn’t stand the H.B. + J.S. that he’d carved into the wood. Even though he’d been the one to replace the lid, he still looked for the carving whenever he opened the desk for supplies.
Did Jo have someone special? As much as he wanted her, he wanted her happiness more. He wondered if she’d made any other men as happy as she’d made him. She probably had. Eleven years was a long time to go without. And Jo was a passionate woman. He remembered that about her with great fondness.
Everything about her was like a living, breathing fire. From her sparkling eyes and lightning-fast humor to her equally fast temper and her instant and all-consuming desire. She’d been every young man’s dream.
His gaze wandered back to her. She was still his dream.
A distant rumbling made him glance out the window. The sky was flashing. They needed the rain. There was a burn ban in effect and two fires had already claimed thousands of acres on surrounding properties. All it took was one asshole throwing his still burning cigarette butt out the window and, poof, a whole season’s worth of work was up in smoke.
Maybe he should wake her. If it rained too hard too fast, the road would wash out and he wouldn’t be able to get her back home. Not home, to Carl’s, he reminded himself. She didn’t live here anymore and Texas had never been her idea of home. He’d thought he might be able to change that once, but he knew he didn’t have that kind of clout now.
He forced himself to work, reading over his students’ notes on the dog they had in clinic at the moment. Vitals were good. The leg was healing. He flipped the page back, skimming the latest X-rays of the fracture. If they kept on track, they’d be able to send him home before Christmas, which meant Hunter might be patient-free for the holidays.
The windowpane rattled as thunder hit—closer now. A blinding flash of lightning flooded the room with white light.
“Hunter?” Jo’s voice was soft.
“It’s just a storm. Go back to sleep, Jo.” He kept his voice low, watching her.
She rolled over, burrowing into the blanket. But the next clap of thunder had her on her feet. He saw her grab her head, leaning against the edge of the sofa.
“Still hurting?” He’d do just about anything to make her feel better. “Want me to take you home?”
She nodded, but then the sky seemed to open up. Sheets of rain dumped onto the tin roof, followed by a show of flashing lightning and roaring thunder. She looked out the window and shook her head.
He smiled. “Still afraid of storms? And you live in Washington?”
“Yes. Yes, I am.” She tried to give him a look, one that showed him how capable and tough she was. But the thunder sent her from the couch to his side. “It doesn’t storm like this there. It just rains...a lot.”
He hesitated only briefly before slipping one hand around her waist. His heart picked up and he waited, but she was too focused on what was happening outside to notice his touch. She was warm—he could feel that through the thin fabric of her shirt. He tugged, pulling her into his lap gently, hungrily. When she sat, her body pressed against him, he couldn’t stop the tremor that racked his body.
“I forgot how violent storms get here,” she whispered.
He couldn’t answer. She was in his arms, in his lap. She felt just the same, warm and soft in all the right places. He stared at her face, rediscovering the shape of her. He used to hold her like this for hours. Sitting, talking, kissing and being happy. How could so much time have passed? She hadn’t changed, and neither had his feelings.
“Is it... Are we safe?” she asked, glancing at him. And then she realized she was in his lap, his arms were around her. Her eyes went round. Surprised. Startled. Pleased? He couldn’t tell.
He swallowed. “Inside we’re safe. We should probably try to wait it out, though, instead of taking you back.”
She nodded, her eyes never leaving his. He expected her to tense, to pull away from him. But she seemed just as wrapped up in him as he was in her. Her breath hitched, her gaze falling to his lips. He knew an invitation when he saw one.
He bent his head, moving close, slowly. She watched him, her breathing picking up. Did she know how she affected him? He didn’t want to push her, to lose her. Everything he wanted was right here, in his arms.
And then she pulled away. “We can’t do this, Hunter.” Her voice was husky and not at all convincing.
“Sure we can.”
“No, we can’t.” She pushed halfheartedly against his chest. But her fingers gripped his shirt.
He knew his need for her was there, on display, but he didn’t care. He wanted her, he’d never stopped. To him, she was still his. “Why?” he asked.
Something about that question pushed Jo over the edge. She was out of his lap in no time, staring down at him with blazing eyes and an angry twist to her mouth. “Why?”
He looked up at her, confused. “You want me. At least, I think you do. And I know I want you.”
She froze, her hands fisting at her sides. “You do?”
“Hell, yes.” He stood as he spoke, his hands resting on her shoulders.
She shook her head, but she was staring at his mouth. “No. Hunter.” He saw her indecision, her frustration. “What we want has nothing to do with what’s right.”
He heard “what we want” and pulled her against him. His hands cupped her face, his thumb brushing across her lower lip. He felt her shudder, saw her lips part, before she stiffened. Why was she fighting? He’d missed this, the feel of her in his arms, the wholeness he felt deep in his bones. How could he tell her, make her understand? His throat tightened as he stared at her, willing her to know what was in his heart.
Her chin quivered. “Hunter,” she whispered, her voice hitching. “I can’t do this to Eli. To Amy.”
Hunter’s chest grew cold. “Amy?”
She winced when he said the name. “Yes, A-Amy.” She pushed away from him, wrapping her arms around her waist.
He didn’t know what to say to that. He’d hoped that there might be some way for them to come to terms with what had happened, what he’d done. He’d never expected her to take him back, but he’d hoped she’d forgive him. She was here, but somehow Amy was still between them.
His phone rang, but neither of them moved. It could wait. “Jo—”
It rang again.
“Aren’t you going to get that?” she murmured, her eyes cold.
“I’d rather talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to talk about.” She shook her head, her anger building. “Nothing. I shouldn’t be here. This—” she pointed frantically back and forth between the two of them “—is wrong.”
Her words hurt. “Wrong?” He swallowed. “How can you—”
“How can I? You promised me, remember? I’m not going to let you break my heart again, Hunter. Do us both a favor and leave me the hell alone.” She grabbed the phone. “Hold on,” she said into the phone before tossing it to him.
He caught it, Fisher’s voice reaching him. “Hunter? Hunter?”
“Yes?” he spoke into the phone, keeping his gaze locked with Jo.
“Fence is down in the far pens.” Fisher laughed.