Cowboy's Kiss (11 page)

As angry as she was at Jackson for stirring things up and then pulling the rug out from under her, she was more angry with herself for remembering too vividly that warm, sweet kiss.

And worse than that, longing for another one...

J
ackson never set an alarm to get himself up in the mornings. He didn't need to. Waking early just came naturally.

But four o'clock was
too
early. Especially when he hadn't fallen asleep until after one.

Oh, he'd gone to bed long before that. Nearly two hours before, in fact. But he'd tossed and turned, fighting off thinking about that kiss. Wanting to kick himself for having done it.

Wanting to do it again.

When he'd finally managed to get to sleep, it hadn't been restful. He'd had so many dreams that he might as well not have slept at all.

He'd dreamed Ally was in danger and he was stuck where he couldn't get to her. He'd dreamed that Ally was in the shower and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't see through the curtain. He'd dreamed Ally was in his bed and he was locked in a glass box from which he could see but not touch. He'd dreamed of Ally in someone else's arms....

A shot of adrenaline had finally jolted him out of that torture.

And now here he was, all churned up inside, staring at a pitch-black ceiling before the sun had so much as thought about rising.

Churned up over Ally.

Over those dreams.

Over that kiss the night before.

Hell, even over Meggie.

The trouble was, he was getting to like some things he shouldn't be liking. Too many things. Too much.

Meggie, for instance.

He really enjoyed her. Enjoyed her shyness, her quiet humor, her sweetness and innocence. The sight of her welcoming her mother when they got back to the ranch at the end of the day warmed and delighted him, just as her saying that first hello to him did.

He liked finding her in the kitchen when he got there after his shower. It was nice to hear her talk as they set out supper together while Ally took longer than he did washing off the work grime. Nice to have someone to talk to.

But then, suppertime was a weak spot for him.

That was when he felt the loneliest here. It always seemed like the whole damn world went home to people around the dinner table while all that waited for him was a silent, solitary meal. So of course he was susceptible to having company then.

But getting to like that family atmosphere of sharing supper with a chatty child wasn't good. Not at all. Not when he knew that family atmosphere was only a temporary thing.

Because when it ended, when Ally and Meggie were gone, facing this big old empty house after a day's work would only be worse. He knew that from experience. Adjusting to that emptiness wasn't something he ever wanted to go through again. Consistent loneliness was better than that.

Safer.

His mind went on wandering as he lay there, back to the night before, to Ally sleeping on the couch.

The memory of how she'd looked haunted him. So soft. So beautiful. Long eyelashes resting against her high cheekbones, her lips parted just enough to look inviting...

Oh, yeah, he'd liked that, too....

Too damn much, he thought, trying to force the image out of his mind.

He didn't want to be thinking about her all the time the way he was. He didn't want to be dreaming about her. He didn't want to be having feelings for her. Wanting her...

His emotions were running amok and it was driving him crazy.

He was a man who knew how to live with external things being out of his control. The crops. The cattle when they had a mind to stampede. The blizzards, the torrential spring rains and floods, the drops in beef prices and rises in the cost of feed.

But the interior things being out of his control, that was something else again. Thunder and lightning and gale-force winds inside of himself over this woman, or even the feeling of internal sunshine that had come as he'd watched her sleep on that couch, were a damn sight tougher to tolerate.

In fact they scared the living hell out of him.

Why couldn't he be attracted to a woman who understood what a rancher's life involved? A woman who wouldn't be done in by it? Scared off by it?

That would solve the loneliness around here without so much of the risk that things wouldn't work and he'd find himself lonely again.

So why wasn't he attracted to a woman like Marilyn Mercer?

His neighbor was pretty enough. Sexy enough. Willing enough, that was for sure.

She'd grown up on that place next door, helped her father run it, helped her husband run it after him, run it herself for the past five years. She'd never be daunted or overcome by everything around here. She'd even be a good partner. They could join the properties, work side by side. Have a real future together. One he could count on. He'd never have to waste a single minute worrying that she'd light out of here because the going got too tough for her to take.

But thoughts of Marilyn Mercer didn't get a rise out of him. Even Marilyn Mercer herself—all trussed up in clothes tight enough to strangle her and hangin' out the top—hadn't stirred him up the way Ally did in loose-fitting, work-grimy duds.

Standing there with his neighbor flaunting everything she had to offer, he'd only wanted to get the hell away from her and back to the truck and Ally.

Go figure.

A gorgeous, sexy woman had been throwing herself at him and he'd been more alert to the forlorn, dejected look that had eased across Ally's features when she'd first set eyes on Marilyn. He'd wanted to bend over and whisper in her ear that if she was feeling less a woman next to his neighbor, she should stop. That she was every bit as beautiful, as desirable...
more
because it wasn't Marilyn he'd been itching for, it was Ally.

Even when Ally had walked off and left him stranded with his neighbor and Marilyn's suggestions had turned to outright propositions, he'd barely heard her. Instead he'd been more aware of Ally's tight little behind as she'd walked away from him. Of how she'd kept looking over at them. Of the jealousy that had cropped up in her features and caused her to beat an angry path back to the truck.

He'd liked that, too. If she was jealous it must mean she was having the same stirrings he was.

But he didn't want to like it. He didn't want to care. Didn't want to be so attracted to her he ached to kiss her again, to get his hands on her...

Why the hell couldn't he feel that way about Marilyn Mercer or any of the other women around these parts? he demanded of himself yet again. Women he was more suited to. Women who were more suited to him.

But he didn't know why.

He only knew he wasn't. They just didn't appeal to him.

And Ally Brooks did.

* * *

Before going downstairs every morning, Ally poked her head into Meggie's room just to have a look at her daughter. Even if she hadn't ordinarily done it, she would have this morning, because as she left her own room she could hear a soft, intermittent whine coming from there.

Not a human whine, though. A dog's.

Mutt, Ally remembered, had spent the night and most likely wanted out.

She eased the door open and went into the shadows that were barely lightened by the dawning sunshine sifting through the curtains.

The sight that greeted her was unusual. Since Meggie had begun the practice of surrounding herself with toys to sleep, she'd not once woken up having disturbed any of them. But today the dolls and stuffed animals were all scattered—half on the bed, half off—and Meggie was at the foot of the mattress, sleeping against the big dog's back as if discarding the makeshift bumper pad hadn't mattered.

Mutt didn't move even as Ally approached. He only stared at her with eyes that begged for help.

She patted his head and carefully lifted Meggie's arm from over the top of him.

That and the dog's escape woke her daughter.

“Iss a-right,” Meggie said in a sleepy stupor. “Jackson said Mutt could sleep with me.”

“I know, but it's morning and Mutt was whining. He probably needs to go outside.”

Meggie rolled onto her back and rubbed her eyes. “I been hungry for pancakes. If I get up now, would you make some?”

Marta had been coming over in the mornings to wait for Meggie to get up and to fix her breakfast. Ally had missed that time with her daughter and so rather than encouraging Meggie to get the extra couple of hours of sleep she could, she said, “Sure. I think I can squeeze in a quick batch before I have to do whatever Jackson has planned today. I'll go and start them and let Mutt out. You get dressed and then come down.”

Twenty minutes later Ally was beating egg whites when Meggie joined her.

She climbed up onto one of the tall stools at the butcher block where her mother was working. “Is Jackson still asleep?” the little girl asked, glancing around as if he might be somewhere she hadn't noticed.

Ally nodded at the coffeemaker. “Looks like he was up a long time ago—he's already had half a pot of coffee. But I don't know where he is.” The affection in her daughter's voice when she'd asked intrigued Ally. “You like him, don't you?”

“He's nice to me now. Not like when we first got here and he was mad.”

“So it was okay that he tucked you in last night?”

“Sure. He bringed Mutt up.”

“He
brought
Mutt up,” Ally corrected. “I'm sorry I fell asleep the way I did.”

“You must'a been real tuckered out. We couldn't even get you to wake up to eat. But it was okay. Me ‘n' Jackson took everything back in here so's we didn't bother you. And then he played the Candy Land game with me, and checkers and chest—”

“Chest?”

“It's like checkers ‘cept there's all these different-shaped things—like a horse head and a queen and a king and fawns and stuff.”

“Pawns,” Ally amended again, smiling at her daughter's mispronunciations. “And the game is called
chess
not
chest.
“

“Okay. Anyway, then we had cookies and milk outside on the patio and talked about stars, and then it was time for bed so I went up and got ready while he rounded up ol' Mutt.”

Ally couldn't help a second smile at the jargon and mode of speech her daughter was picking up. And at the image of Jackson talking to the little girl about stars while the two of them shared cookies and milk. “Sounds like you had quite an evening without me.” One that Ally was sorry to have missed, though she didn't want to admit it even to herself.

“I did.”

Ally took the bowl of batter to the stove where the griddle had been heating, and Meggie went to one of the sliding doors that led out back.

“Should I go look for Jackson? We wouldn't want him to miss your pancakes.”

“Maybe he already ate,” Ally hedged because she wasn't anxious to see him this morning. Not after that kiss she'd liked much too much and relived a million times in bed before she'd been able to fall asleep again. And certainly not after Jackson's swift about-face when he'd ended it.

“Uh-oh...”

Ally glanced over her shoulder at her daughter. “What's the matter?”

“Jordy must be sneakin' a smoke back of the chicken coop again—that's what he calls it. But Hans'll get mad if he catches him like he did yesterday.”

Jordy was one of the ranch hands. A very young one with a cocksure attitude and what seemed to be an ever-present sneer in his expression.

Meggie went on talking. “Jordy's not s'pose to be smokin' out there on accounta Hans says all the grasses are real dry this time of year. Jordy said a bad word at him and called him a old man, and Hans said that's right he was a old man, old ‘nuff to know one hot match was all it took to start a fire that'd burn down this whole place. Hans hollered at Jordy and everything.”

It occurred to Ally belatedly to wonder how Meggie could spot a wisp of cigarette smoke from behind the chicken coop at this distance. She flipped her pancakes and went to see for herself.

But the smoke coming from that direction was not a wisp. It was a big black cloud.

“Oh, Lord, Meggie, that
is
a fire! Find Jackson and tell him!'

Meggie looked stunned for a moment but then dashed out the door. Ally followed her a few steps, remembered the pancakes and the hot griddle, ran back to turn it off and then made a beeline for the chicken coop, where the sounds of wildly cackling birds called to her.

Jordy was the culprit all right, because he was the only one back there, trying to stomp out flames that were moving faster than his feet.

“Is there a hose or some way to get water back here?” Ally asked without preamble.

“Nothin' reaches,” he shouted at her. “Git help!”

It arrived just then in the form of Jackson at a full run, carrying an armload of empty burlap feed sacks. He dropped them onto the ground, tossed one to Jordy, one to Ally, and took one himself. Then he ordered Ally to the other side of the blaze while he filled in the space between her and the young ranch hand, and they all began beating at the fire.

It was still getting the best of them when Hans and Marta came running with Meggie close behind. Ally assumed Jackson had sent her daughter to get them, but even with two more people the blaze was hot and high. All of Ally's attention was focused on the fight, and slapping at those licking tongues of flames that spat sparks to further their reach.

And then suddenly she heard Marta's voice call out, “Meggie's caught!”

Meggie's caught? Ally didn't know what the other woman was talking about but her head shot up in time to see her tiny daughter clumsily trying to help swat out the flames with a sack that was bigger than she was and standing much too close to the conflagration. So close that the ruffled hem of the T-shirt she wore had caught fire.

“Oh, my God!” Ally shouted, dropping her own sack and running for her child.

But Jackson was quicker.

He tackled the little girl and rolled with her on the ground away from the inferno. Over and over they went as if they were tumbling down a steep hill.