Explosive Memories (12 page)

She nodded, and he kissed her forehead. His lips lingered on the soft skin. Her body trembled, and he felt even more of an ass. She needed reassurance and understanding, but the words were struck in his throat. Placing his Stetson on his head, he headed out the door.

Chapter Nine

Trent rubbed his chest as an ache settled in the center. Disbelief and uncertainty over the information he discovered filled him.

The facts Jordan presented didn’t change his future or hers, but if the baby lived, that would’ve been a different story. He’d have a daughter to care for, a start of a family. One without April. No way would he have exposed his baby girl to that bitch of a woman who hated children. His life would’ve evolved into something entirely different if his daughter had survived. If…

The pain Jordan must have suffered carrying a life inside her only to have the infant ripped away in the end unmanned him. No one should have to endure that kind of heartache.

The circumstances following their night together ended in tragedies for both of them, but more so for her. Yet, she managed to get through the trauma and proceed with her life, coming out on top. A true testament to her character and the woman she’d become.

And here he sported a grudge over not being one hundred percent, refusing to listen to his family or the doctors in order for the injury to heal. Instead, he drove himself to prove he needed no one, while she retained not one person in her corner.

What a bastard he’d been.

Swinging open the barn door, he stormed to the back room where his father had hung a punching bag decades ago. He laid the precious envelop on the shelf with care, then slammed his fist into the object hanging from the ceiling. Chains creaked against the rafters as the sack sailed across the small room.

Adrenaline pumped in his veins as he swung at the bag repeatedly, feeling a slight release of the tension in his muscles. His shoulder burned like hell, and he soon found himself drenched with sweat.

Jordan would have been a great mother. Wasn’t fair the baby died. Continuing to pummel the bag, he beat out his anger and frustrations over the past, the pain suffered at the hands of others, at the hands of chance, and because there was not one damn thing he could do to change the outcome. That’s what bothered him most. He wanted to help her; to make things better for her as his family had him, to explore the unexplained connection he felt toward her. And how could he forget the intimacy factor. She went up in flames any time he kissed her, turning into a wanton woman. Her response alone swelled his ego.

“That thing owe you money or steal your girl?” Sam caught the object as it sped toward him.

Ignoring the comment, Trent bent over, hands on thighs, to catch his breath. Every time he turned around, one or more person from his family were there, waiting for him to need them.

Because they care,
he reminded himself.

“I don’t think this is the kind of therapy your doctor prescribed.”

Straightening, he met his brother’s watchful gaze. “Right now, it’s the kind I need.”

A brow dipped over one eye. “I’d think the fight with Nick would’ve cured that.” Sam crossed the room until he stood boot to boot with Trent. “Damn it, kid, don’t you get it? We’re all tired of watching you wallow in self-pity. Don’t you think two years is long enough to let April win? You think you’re the only one in this world who’s had rough times? You know what, you wanna be pissed off the rest of your life, go for it.”

Unsure how to take his brother’s outburst, Trent confiscated the envelope on the shelf. “You’re right.”

“And don’t give me some bullshit about…what’d you say?”

“You’re right.” Seeing his hat on the floor, he placed the Stetson on his head, and headed out of the room.

His brother fell into step beside him. “That was too easy, and you’re the least agreeable person I know. What gives?”

While he didn’t relish the idea of announcing the news to the entire clan, telling one member of the herd was a start. He handed over the packet.

His older sibling raised a brow in question as he examined the contents and stopped walking. His confusion gave way to a frown.

“Is that a baby?” Sam turned the picture different ways, then glanced from Trent to the picture and back. “You telling me you’re gonna be a daddy?”

The impact of the words took his breath once again. The idea of Jordan carrying his baby scared the hell out of him, but knowing there was no baby only mildly overcame the initial fright. Now his chest just ached. He rubbed the spot in the center.

“Who’s the mother?” he asked, sliding one photo behind the other.

Trent pointed to the top where Jordan’s name was imbedded into the film.

“
Jordan?
How? When?”

He lifted a hand to silence the questions. “Those were taken eight months after Charlie’s graduation bonfire.”

“Cripes, that was six years ago. Where’s the baby now? I didn’t see a kid with her. Are you sure it’s yours?”

A couple of horses ran in the pasture, catching his attention. With no easy way to explain, he looked back at his brother and blurted, “She was stillborn.”

Sam’s mouth opened and shut several times. “Damn. That’s a hard one to swallow.”

“Tell me ’bout it.” He rubbed the nape of his neck to ease the building tension.

“These pictures—”

“Are sonograms taken three weeks before she delivered.”

“Talk about a major blow.” Sam shook his head.

“Yep.” Unable to stay still any longer, he stuffed his hands into his front pockets and strutted off in the direction of the cabins.

“What now?”

“Damned if I know.” He walked along side his brother, feeling his support and worry hanging heavy in the silence as the pair made their way across the land. Support Jordan never had.

“You going up to the main house for supper? Ms. Liz stored leftovers in the fridge.”

Trent glanced over to where the rest of the family would surely be, and for the first time, noticed dusk had fallen. “I already ate.” Getting close to the house, he stopped walking.

“From what I can see, this doesn’t alter your life.” Sam handed back the images.

“Feels like it should.” His mom and dad raised their boys to be polite, use their manners, and own up to their responsibilities, but he wasn’t sure where that fit in with this scenario. He kicked a rock in the path with his boot and continued forward.

“Definitely gives you two a connection, but one you’re not obligated to continue, or, if you decide, to explore.” His brother turned and headed up the stairs to the porch.

He mulled over Sam’s last comment as he entered his cabin minutes later. Truth of the matter was, the more he entertained the thought, the more he liked the idea of being a dad, which shocked the hell out of him. Who was he kidding? The situation vanished before he even knew the position existed.

Heading to the shower, he stripped, and stepped under the hot spray, hoping to clear his head. An hour later, restlessness fisted in his gut, chasing him from bed. Tugging on his jeans, he hobbled out to the porch and stared up at the starlit sky. How’d life get so mixed up? Before Jordan returned, he was…

Nowhere.

His life was idle. Not moving forward, stuck in the routine of daily life.

Where did he want his future to go? What did the next sixty-some years hold?

Land for sure. Hell, he’d never give up ranching, but the idea of being alone for the rest of his life held no appeal. Sure, his brothers were here, but someday they’d have spouses and new lives. Nick already started.

Did he want to follow in big brother’s footsteps?

Trent glanced around and found a light shining in Jordan’s living room window. Without pausing for thought, he ambled over the pebbled ground and knocked on the door.

The woman he needed to see appeared on the other side of the screen. Her hair was swept back from her freshly scrubbed face, and she now wore a navy blue tank top with gray, cotton shorts.

“Did you forget something?” her soft voice asked as she clutched the door, her gaze glued to his chest.

“Can I come in?”

Without a word, the barrier opened farther.

Jordan wasn’t sure what to think when Trent entered and stood in the center of her living room, shirtless. When he deserted her earlier, she figured he’d keep his distance…far away.

“I want to apologize for cutting out.”

Insides quaking with nerves, she tore her gaze from the rising and falling muscles of his upper body.

“Thing is, I’m not sure what to feel, or what I’m supposed to feel.” He ran a hand through his hair.

“You don’t have to feel anything. Nothing’s changed.” For him anyway. Angry with herself for the bitterness, she gritted her teeth to keep the words in.

“Everything’s changed, but I’d be damned if I can explain why.” He sighed and closed the distance. “There’s something ’bout you.”

A large hand slipped to her neck. Instant heat bolted down her spine, and she stifled a moan.

“I feel more around you than I have anyone.” The sexy cowboy rested his forehead on hers. “For the record, I’d have been honored to be our little girl’s d-daddy,” he whispered.

A mountain of chills ran over her body.

Was the testament so easy for him to say because the situation no longer existed?

Tender lips played with Jordan’s, causing her knees to weaken.

“And you’d have been an awesome mother.”

Rather than sink into the strong, masculine pull, she held back, afraid to believe, afraid to give into temptation.

“I want you.” He nuzzled the side of her throat. “I need you. You’re like the missing half of me, and that scares the hell out of me.”

She wanted him, too, but struggled with the decision to give in.

Tell him to go before it’s too late.

Tipping her head, she got caught in the web of his gaze. Her tummy tightened and fluttered, sending a tingling sensation to every nerve ending. Her resolve weakening, she leaned into him. How good would it feel to let herself go? To feel alive and not like she walked around in someone else’s body.

Trent cupped her cheek in his calloused palm and wrapped the other arm around her waist, drawing their bodies closer together.

A tidal wave of sensations flooded her senses at the feel of him. His tongue traced her lower lip, and before she drew another breath, his mouth crushed hers.

An adrenaline rush like no other traveled through her. Her hand flattened against his chest. Skin to skin. This was wrong, yet right.

Frantic for more, she launched her own assault, kissing his lips, jaw, chin, neck, and back to his sinful mouth. It had been so long.
Too
long. Tracing a path up the hard contours to his silky hair, an ache pooled heavily at her core.

High on his scent, dizziness washed over her. Her mother always told her to keep her head out of the clouds. What was she doing? This was wrong. She owed her parents the courtesy and respect she failed to show them during those high school years.

No.
Jordan rolled the thoughts aside.
I’m an adult now.

His hand slid underneath the hem of her shirt, skirting her ribs, and up to cup her breasts. The feel of his palms through the thin cotton covering her nipples was her undoing. She needed this. Needed
him
.

Leaping up, she wrapped her legs around his waist.

He caught her and cupped her backside, squeezing, kneading as he carried her to the bedroom and placed her on the mattress.

Trent paused next to the bed, giving her a minute to study his well-sculptured muscles. She licked her dry lips. His torso—though broader than she remembered—sported a thin layer of dark hair in the center and two scars. One she assumed resulted from his surgery, but the other was farther down, below his rib cage. What happened to cause such angry lines? She reached out and touched the puckered skin.

Strong hands closed around her upper arms. “No.”

She jumped and searched his face, noting an underlining uneasiness. Rising on her knees, she kissed the surgical spot.

He tensed under her administrations, but didn’t stop her.

She nibbled her way up to his neck and collar bone and back down the magnificent chest, tracing his nipples with the tip of her tongue. Licking the salty skin across his flat abdomen to the waistband of his jeans, she made quick work of the belt buckle blocking her way. She was stunned by her own brazen actions, but unable to calm the hormones raging inside her malnourished libido.

A shudder ran through him before he trundled her back on the mattress and kicked free of the denim. Her gaze filled with narrow hips and dark blue boxer briefs. She reached out to trace a fingernail over the erection concealed in the underwear and over to the birthmark on his left thigh. Once, she thought the symbol odd and intriguing. Now, the horseshoe held heartache and love, nightmares and memories.

“My turn.”

The sound of his deep drawl and feel of hot hands on her skin yanked her back to the present.

Trent slipped her shorts down her legs and drew the tank top overhead, exposing her lace-covered breasts and skimpy black thong.

“I see you still like sexy underclothes.” He wrapped his arms around her and pressed his mouth to the exposed mounds of skin above her bra. She arched to meet wet lips and shivered as his kisses traveled down to her rib cage.

The magic, the sizzle she remembered was real.

Heightened sensations caused her to thrust into the impressive bulge growing behind the cowboy’s briefs.

“In a hurry, are you?” He released the front clasp, freeing her to his waiting tongue, and flicked the pebbled nipples one by one.

Ultra sensitive to his administrations, she grasped the back of his head and held him tight as she had before. This was how he made her feel all those years ago. A few touches and she went up in flames. The chemistry between them hadn’t diminished by any means.

“Please, Trent.”

He suckled harder, sending waves of wet heat rushing to her center, dampening the thin material of her thong.