Lone Star Daddy. Stella Bagwell
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right. You see, Mother had—well, she had two sons by her first husband that she…had to give up for a long time. And I guess she protected me and my brother because she was afraid she’d lose us, too.”
Now why had she gone and told him all that? Alexa wondered. It wasn’t like her to share family matters with strangers. Especially such things as her mother had gone through.
Because Jonas doesn’t feel like a stranger. Because something about him is easy and calm and inviting.
“That’s only human,” he said softly. “We want to cling to what we love the most.”
A long rush of air passed her lips, and she realized her heart was thumping hard behind her breasts. When she’d heated Jonas’s supper for him, she’d not expected to join him, much less have such a personal conversation with the man. She’d planned to go about her business or pretend to have more important things to do and politely leave the kitchen.
He hadn’t allowed that to happen, and now all she could think about was that the two of them were alone, that only a wall would be separating them as they slept.
Dear God, what was the matter with her? Were her hormones going crazy all of a sudden? Since her break with Barry, the idea of even looking at another man had repulsed her. And Jonas Redman wasn’t her type at all. No, cowboys were off-limits. Forever.
And now politicians are off-limits, too. What are you going to do, Alexa? Quit men entirely because you happen to be a bad judge of character? You’ve tried passion, and you’ve tried logic. Is there anything left?
Clearing her throat, she slowly rose to her feet. “Uh—it’s getting late. Is there anything else you’d like before I head upstairs?”
Pushing his chair away from the table, he also stood. “I’ve had plenty. Thanks.”
He picked up his dirty plate, glass and beer bottle. “Where do I put these?” he asked.
She motioned to the sink. “Just put them there. Sassy will put them in the dishwasher later.”
Alexa left the kitchen, but he quickly caught up to her in the living room, just before she reached the staircase. When his hand came under her elbow and his arm circled around the back of her waist, she stopped in her tracks and stared at him.
“May I ask what you’re doing?”
His solemn expression didn’t waver. “You’re not going up those stairs without me to help you.”
Her first instinct was to laugh, but she bit back the urge. As she looked at his face, she realized he was seriously concerned for her, and suddenly the idea that he cared that much for her well-being caused tears to sting the back of her eyes.
“I have to go up and down them during the day, Jonas,” she said softly.
“Yes. But it’s late and you’re tired. I’m here now. So don’t argue.”
A smile tugged at her lips. “All right. It would be nice to lean on your strong arm.”
“That’s better,” he said huskily, then urged her forward.
He purposely kept their climb at a slow pace, and although Alexa realized he was taking it easy for her sake, she was quickly wishing the task would end. Having Jonas’s arm locked firmly around her, feeling the warmth of his hard body pressing against the side of hers, was doing strange things to her senses.
Once they reached the landing, she expected him to release her, but his arm remained at her back and his fingers stayed curled around her arm until they reached Alexa’s bedroom door.
“Here we are,” he said, “and you’re not even breathing hard.”
No. But her heart was hammering, and every nerve in her body sizzling, she thought. “Thank you, Jonas. Good night.”
Dropping his hold on her, he started to his room, only to pause and look over his shoulder at her. “You know, after your baby gets here, I might just put you to that riding test.”
She pushed a smile on her face. “I’ll be ready.”
Who was she kidding? Alexa thought bitterly as she entered the bedroom and shut the door firmly behind her. She’d not been on a horse in years. She’d not even touched a bridle or saddle or even pulled on a pair of boots since she moved away from the Chaparral.
What in heck had she been doing, telling Jonas all that stuff, acting as though she remembered how to be a cowgirl? Why had she told him such things in the first place? Why had she wanted him to know that part of her life? In Santa Fe, she’d kept that part of her past all carefully tucked away, while she tried to be a smooth, polished lady, rubbing elbows with powerful people in powerful places.
Dear God, she’d believed she’d matured into an intelligent woman, one wise enough to make good, practical choices for herself. But all that careful planning and the cautious approach she’d taken with Barry had been for naught. Now she was afraid to trust any man. And even more afraid to trust herself.
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