It was barely a kiss, just the slightest touch of their lips, but it was Rock’s lips—lips that even after all of these years, felt as familiar as her own.
Her breath caught in her throat, but she didn’t pull away, couldn’t pull away.
His mouth slanted across hers, deepening the kiss as she melted into him. Literally melted against his body as if all of her bones had vanished, replaced with molten heat that surged through her veins, warming her from the inside out.
He tasted like maple syrup and blueberries and Rock—and the smallest of sighs escaped her lips. His hands cupped her cheeks, holding her face in a tender embrace.
She gripped his shoulders, holding on, forgetting everything as she kissed him back. Sinking in to the feeling—to the sensation of being thoroughly kissed—it felt so damn good. Oh God, he felt so good.
The scent of him, his soap, his aftershave—something musky and expensive—swirled around her, both familiar and mysterious. She wanted to climb into his lap, to wrap her legs around him, to slide her hands under his shirt and explore the new contours of his muscles, to kiss and touch every scar, every inch of his body. A body that she knew, yet didn’t.
Memories swirled through her, memories of kissing him, touching him. He was her first love, her first kiss, her first everything, and she had loved him with everything she had to give.
They had loved each other. And he had walked away, left her behind.
Holy shit.
What the heck was she doing?
She pulled back, her palms flattening against his shoulders as she straightened her arms. “I can’t.” Gasping, she ignored the sting of gravel that bit into her hands as she scrambled backward. “I can’t do this.”
“Quinn.”
“No. No. No.” She shook her head, trying to clear her muddled thoughts. It was as if she’d been swimming in a beautiful perfect lake, the water warm and fluid around her, then something had brushed past her leg, and she remembered that the lake held a monster that swam just below the surface, and suddenly she couldn’t get out of the water fast enough.
She backpedaled, then pushed to her feet, determined not to get pulled down into the water again, not to get sucked in to the whirlpool that was Rockford James.
“I gotta go.” She took two steps forward, then stopped and stomped her foot, a small cloud of dust kicking up around her boot heel. “Damn it. I can’t just leave you here.”
A grin tugged at the corner of his beautiful mouth.
“Not because of that,” she sneered. Her shoulders fell as she let out a sigh. “Because you’re hurt.”
His cocky grin fell, replaced by a scowl. “Let me get this straight—you’re pissed but you’re not gonna walk away because you feel sorry for me? Well, screw that. You can keep on walking, lady.”
“I can’t. That’s not who I am. I don’t walk away when someone needs me.”
He winced. “Who says I need you?”
A flash of pain pierced her heart. No one. No one had said that. And Rock didn’t need her. Apparently, he didn’t need anyone except himself. “It doesn’t matter. I’m a mom; it’s what I do. You’re hurt, and I’m not walking away.”
“You guys need a hand? Somebody hurt?” A younger version of Rock walked around the barn, a copper-colored golden retriever on his heels.
“Nobody’s hurt,” Rock growled. “I’m fine.”
“Hey, Colt. I’m glad you’re here,” Quinn said to Rock’s baby brother. He looked so much like Rock, the same sandy-blond hair, the same broad shoulders, sometimes it was hard for Quinn to be around him, just the sight of him bringing up too many painful memories. “I’ve got to go. Can you watch him?”
“Nobody needs to watch me. I’m not a child.”
The golden ran over to Rock and set to licking his face in greeting.
No, he wasn’t a child. And he wasn’t the teenage boy who’d left her behind, the boy who still lingered in her mind and haunted her dreams. No, he was a man. A man who with one kiss, had just turned her inside out and shaken her to her core.
Shoving her hands in her pockets, she tried to control their trembling, then turned on her heels, and walked back to the house.
***
Rock held out his hand and let Colt pull him up. “How you doing, little brother?”
The younger man pulled him into a bear hug. “A lot better than you, by the looks of things. What’s going on with Quinn? I don’t think I’ve ever seen her so rattled.”
“Yeah, me neither.” He wasn’t sure if he wanted to share that it was his fault, or that it might have something to do with the fact that he’d just kissed her. Okay—it had everything to do with the fact that he’d just kissed her.
But he needed to mull that over a little on his own first—because he also wasn’t sure if he was ready to face how rattled he felt either.
“Sorry I missed you last night,” Colt said.
“It’s cool. Mom said you were working a late shift at The Creed,” Rock told him, referring to The Creedence Tavern, the local pub and restaurant in town. “Since when did you start working there?”
“I don’t work there. I was just filling in for Dale last night because his wife went into labor.”
“No way. I didn’t even know she was pregnant.”
He shrugged. “It’s only been for about the last nine months now.”
Rock elbowed him in the side. “I was gonna come down and see you, but Ma wouldn’t let me out of her sight last night.”
His brother chuckled. “Yeah, I bet. So, how’s your head? For real.”
“For real?”
Colt nodded, his gaze solemn.
“For real, it hurts like a bitch sometimes and other times not at all. I’m sore and pissed and embarrassed that I let that punk get the drop on me, and I feel like I let the whole damn team down and we’re out of the finals because of me.”
“Whoa. That’s a lot. I know you’ve got some pretty broad shoulders, but I didn’t realize you carried the whole team.”
He sighed. “Shut up. You know what I mean. I just feel like I let ’em down. And I hate that the coach sent me home to ‘recuperate.’” He lifted his fingers to make air quotes.
“It must have been pretty bad then.”
“It’s a few dizzy spells and some bruises. But I’m not a freaking invalid, and regardless of what Quinn Rivers has to say about it, I do not need a babysitter.”
Colt held up his hands. “All right, dude. Although you’d be hard-pressed to find a prettier babysitter than Quinn. She used to babysit me, and I never seemed to mind.”
Rock let out a chuckle. “Point taken. I just don’t want her, or anybody, making a fuss over me. That includes Mom.”
“Good luck with that one.” He gestured toward the pasture. “I’m headed out to check on the calves. Want to keep me company? Stretch your legs a little?”
“Sure.” He picked up a stick and threw it for the dog as he fell into step behind his brother. It would be good to stretch his legs and to focus on something besides the blond cowgirl who smelled like vanilla and whose kiss still sent him reeling, making him dizzy in ways that had nothing to do with the concussion.
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