Yesterday
Cole Wylder leaned against a wood-paneled wall and took in his bustling welcome-back party. The Watering Hole saloon, a bar that smelled of beer and the great outdoors, was filling up as though he’d been missed in the five years he’d been away. Five years to look back on the mistakes he’d made in his hometown of Sweetheart Creek, Texas.
Namely, the ones with his ex-girlfriend April MacFarlane, who he’d danced with earlier without either of them committing murder.
He must be a changed man, after all.
However, despite rumors to the contrary, he hadn’t come home to sweep her up in his arms, nor did he want her back. In fact, he had a strong suspicion she’d eloped with his younger brother Brant a month ago to thumb her nose at those rumors, as well as to prove she’d moved on.
And yet the gossip still floated through the air like mustard gas. Sometimes Cole felt he should pick up a fake girlfriend to help dispel those rumors, if not for his own sake, then for April and Brant’s.
He hadn’t known what to expect when he’d returned home, having such little contact over the years. If he was a betting man he’d have placed his chips on his father’s continued cold shoulder, and April running him out of town. So far, only the former would have won him the jackpot.
He lifted his beer to his lips, the button-up shirt he’d found in his old bedroom closet pulling at his shoulders as if trying to hold him back. In his peripheral vision he caught a few people whispering about him, looking away when he met their gaze. Fresh starts weren’t as easy as a person would think. He’d come home to mend fences, and turn away from the crazy things he used to say yes to.
No more putting the wild in Wylder.
Cole found himself glancing toward a table tucked at the front of the saloon where the long bar ended. Jackie Moorhouse was sitting alone, looking gorgeous in an off-the-shoulder top and smoky eye shadow that gave her a demure, mysterious vibe. He focused on the ceiling so she wouldn’t catch him staring. What was it about Jackie that kept drawing him in? They’d spoken on New Year’s Eve, as well as at his family’s Christmas dinner, and it had been awkward and uncomfortable. She was a woman who brought sunshine and laughter wherever she went, yet he swore she had shadows, too.
Like him.
As his gaze found Jackie again, he reminded himself that he’d sworn off women until the summer. He needed to focus on his family and rebuilding bridges. That had been his plan in coming home, and seeing their reluctance to open their arms and fully welcome him had only reinforced it. He’d earned their reservation by leaving without a goodbye and then not staying in contact.
“Nice to have you back.” Cole flinched when a slap on his shoulder left a stinging imprint. “Things were getting a little stale around here.” Wade Ross weaved his way onto the dance floor, spun around again and stumbled against a table, spilling drinks.
“What happened to him?” Cole muttered to himself. The man used to be a pillar of the community, heir to a pretty swank family business and smart enough to tutor Myles, the second youngest Wylder. But Wade sure wasn’t acting like a man who had it all.
“Did Wade say ’stale’?” his cousin Nick asked, coming to stand beside Cole as the latest song ended. He had a woman tucked close, the two of them out of breath from dancing. “Tell that to the sheriff.”
“I’m sure he’s enjoying some quiet,” Cole said, thinking how far back he and Nick’s troublemaking ways went.
“You remember Polly?” Nick asked, tightening his arm around his partner.
Cole guessed she was in her thirties, her posture hinting at a more refined life than her typical Texan cowgirl outfit suggested. Whatever her story, she seemed happy, and deeply in love. And it was obviously mutual. Cole’s wild and crazy cousin, who’d vowed he would never settle down, looked as though he wanted to put a ring on Polly’s finger.
How was it that everyone he knew had fallen in love—including all four of his brothers?
Had everything changed while he was away?
“Indigo Bay,” Polly said mildly.
“Of course,” Cole declared, as memories of summers away from the ranch flooded his mind. Nick and Polly had been inseparable as teens, while Cole had been chasing girls and sulking over missing a month of practicing rodeo back home. He’d received a few college scholarships but had never cashed them in, staying on the circuit and collecting belt buckles and trophies instead.
“How late does the party go tonight?” Nick asked.
Cole shrugged. He planned to leave long before closing time, and his old friend Trouble began sending out tempting invites.
“I don’t want to babysit you in the drunk tank all night,” Sheriff Conroy Johnson warned as he walked by, with several drinks clutched in his hands. “My granddaughter’s birthday party’s tomorrow, and I don’t want to be a walking zombie and miss it all.” He gave Cole and Nick a warning look.
“We’ll be good,” Cole promised.
The sheriff snorted and continued on.
“You two seem to have developed quite the reputation,” Polly said, eyeing the sheriff as he doled out the drinks to a table of middle-aged folks sitting near the band.
“We did.”
“But we’re not like that anymore,” Nick said quickly. Cole nodded in agreement. These days his Friday nights were usually spent home alone.
Cole found his attention drifting to Jackie Moorhouse again. The perky spitfire was still sitting by herself, looking uncharacteristically glum. April had suggested he go talk to her when they’d been dancing earlier. Possibly his curiosity had shown? Or maybe it was related to the numerous well-meaning people who had hinted rather blatantly that Jackie had a crush on him and had been waiting for him to return. If that was true, she should be in the CIA, because she was hiding her feelings very well.
“Hi, Cole,” Daisy-Mae Ray said, fluttering her lashes as she joined their small circle.
“How are you still single, Miss Gorgeous USA?” he asked, turning on the charm.
She laughed. “You’re still not interested?”
She’d been one of the first women to approach him when he’d come home, and therefore the first to be turned down. He gave her an apologetic smile and shook his head. “I’ve got to mend some fences before I can get serious about a woman.”
“I wasn’t suggesting anything serious,” she said, stroking his shoulder, her subtle floral perfume drifting over him.
“Sorry, sweetheart.”
“In other words, no women, because he’s leaving soon.” Nick gave him a glance to confirm, ever the wingman.
Cole shook his head. “I’m staying.”
Daisy-Mae rolled her eyes. “Sure you are. Keep me in mind if you get lonely.”
He touched the brim of his cowboy hat, his shirt pulling again in the process, as she turned to melt into the crowd. She was Myles’s ex-girlfriend, and even if Brant didn’t respect the bro-code regarding brothers and their exes, Cole did. Although Brant possibly got a pass on hooking up with April, seeing as he’d had a thing for her since they were preteens, and if Cole had been around he would have given them his blessing.
He swung his attention once more to the woman sitting in the shadows near the door. Why wasn’t Jackie surrounded by her usual gaggle of giggling friends, or hanging out with April? Why was she sporting a serious frown that made her almost unrecognizable?
Where was her joy tonight?
Come to think of it, where was his own? This party was for him, after all. He turned his attention back to Nick, who was asking if his beer needed a refill. He shook his head with a thanks, trying to sort out where he fit into this town that never changed, but seemed to have done so in his absence.
It was time to rewrite his life, and for some weird reason, it felt as though Jackie held the key to how he was supposed to do that.
* * *
Jackie was done. She’d been sitting off to the side, pretending to have a good time, for almost two hours. Sure, she’d floated from table to table occasionally so people wouldn’t think something was up, but she’d mostly stuck to herself, sorting through her moods. All she could think about was the fight she’d had with April on their walk over to The Watering Hole, and how her friend took love for granted.
April had called her a chicken for not throwing herself all over her long-time crush Cole Wylder as soon as he’d stepped foot in Sweetheart Creek again. But anyone could see that his years away had weighed on him, and that he wasn’t the same man who’d left town. It was right there in the haunted glimmer in his eyes, available for all to see.
Jackie sighed and swirled the drink she’d been nursing all night. Like a fool, she’d continued to carry the burden of her childhood crush even when Cole had disappeared for five years. Now she wasn’t sure the man she’d dreamed of for so long still existed.
To make matters worse, she realized that April had been right: milk did last longer than Jackie’s boyfriends. She was just a flirt the local men didn’t consider as marriage material. So what had she done? She’d pinned her hopes and dreams on a man who didn’t do serious or long-term.
Hopeless.
No wonder April had been so cavalier about telling her to throw herself at Cole. And maybe the reason her words had struck so deep was that they’d hit upon some truths Jackie had been hiding from herself for too long.
She checked the clock on the wall, figuring she’d been at Cole’s welcome-back party long enough that she could politely leave. After all, April and Brant had left an hour ago, their expressions dark. They were going to have a blowout fight, neither of them realizing just how good they had it. Stuck in their own drama, they couldn’t see the relationship gold they were sitting on.
It seemed like every time Jackie turned around, her friend had effortlessly ensnared another man. But this time it was true love, and April taking it for granted made Jackie so frustrated she wanted to shake her. Whereas Jackie wasn’t sure she’d ever truly been in love, despite her thirty-two years living in a town full of matchmakers—herself included.
Maybe it was envy?
The fight with April had at least reinforced what she already knew. If she was looking for love—which she was—that meant no more flings. They were nothing but diversions, something to hide behind so she didn’t have to deal with the scary idea that true love might not be waiting out there for her.
Jackie downed the last of her drink, tracking Cole Wylder, the man of the hour, as she did so. He was still hot. Still had that fluid, confident way of moving that made her want to sigh in satisfaction every time she saw him.
She’d been chasing him for as long as she could remember. Him. Just him. Sure, she’d flirted with his brothers, but that had simply been to ensure she didn’t freak Cole out with her steady, pinpointed interest.
She set her empty glass on the small table and stood.
It was time to bid that old crush farewell and move on.
Jackie collected her jacket from the back of her chair, then moved to the door, smiling and waving, putting on the Jackie Show as she went. She’d had to work at sitting alone tonight, giving herself space to cool down after the fight with April, as well as sort out her true feelings about Cole. Sometimes a gal just needed to sit and think. But if the town got to know that was the real Jackie, the quieter one who wasn’t a trouble-free flirt, she wasn’t sure where she’d fit in.
As she neared the exit she turned to take one last glance at Cole. He was shaking hands with someone she couldn’t see through the crowd, that slightly haunted look flickering in his gaze. The man was still all brawn and devilish smile, coupled with that intensely quiet way of looking at a person, making her feel like a shaken bottle of soda that was ready to fizz over at any moment.
“Jackie!” called Karen Hartley, pulling Jackie’s attention away from Cole. The local librarian was beaming, having just been ensconced in the arms of Myles, the second youngest of the five Wylder brothers.
“Your lipstick is smeared,” Jackie informed her, wincing as she shifted from foot to foot. Her arches were protesting tonight’s choice of footwear, a pair of high heels instead of her usual cowboy boots.
“Oh!” Karen quickly dabbed at her mouth, blushing and appearing happier than Jackie had ever seen her. Love looked good on her.
“Hey, are you free on the thirteenth and fourteenth?”
“Of February?”
Karen nodded.
Jackie shrugged, swallowing the lump of loneliness that had formed in her throat at the thought of Valentine’s Day. She’d planned to spend it, a Saturday, at her father’s nursing home. Even if he didn’t always remember who she was, the cookies were good and the stories the other elders told tended to be entertaining, although a bit repetitive.
“I guess so. Why?”
“The library’s thinking about holding a fundraising event.”
“You need volunteers?” Jackie perked up. Helping out would be a great excuse to be busy if anyone asked if she had a date for the most romantic day of the year.
“No, we need fun people to keep it lively. Will you come?” Karen looked so pleased and excited that Jackie nodded even though her stomach had dropped.
“I’d be happy to.”
Karen gave an uncharacteristic squeal of delight and ran back to Myles, who opened his arms, collecting her in a hug that swept her off her feet.
Jackie held herself together and gave a small wave before pushing her way through the saloon’s swinging doors. As soon as she did, the January Texas air bit into her. She should have worn her boots, not these ridiculous heels. Her feet were going to be frozen by the time she walked all the way back to her car, which she’d left at April’s.
The light hanging above the saloon door flickered, and she knew if she looked to the right, she’d see the edge of town, as well as a glimpse of her apartment on the corner, across and one block down. To the left and many blocks away was her car. After April’s hurtful words tonight, going home without her car was a much more pleasant prospect than the idea of possibly running into her friend.
Sniffing back a sudden flood of unexpected tears, Jackie hurried down the saloon’s two steps as the light above the door flickered once again, then died, instantly creating deep, dark shadows across the sidewalk. Her foot struck something solid, and a dog yipped in surprise. Jackie went down hard on the concrete as she tried to avoid falling on Rusty, a dog that always hung around the saloon.
Jackie gasped as her right hand and left knee took the brunt of her tumble. She rolled onto her back, trying to breathe through the agony, a numbing, breathtaking pain. Rusty, a brown-and-white retriever of some sort, was at her side in an instant, nuzzling her cheek.
The saloon door had opened and a cowboy was silhouetted against the light. Then the door creaked shut, and suddenly Jackie was being hoisted to her feet, a muscular arm behind her back. She staggered on her heels while a man wearing spicy aftershave held her close in the darkness.
Cole Wylder.
Being in his arms felt even better than she’d imagined. To support her, he curved his arm, pulling her against him. Her palms landed against his chest, which was firm. The stuff of fantasies. She quickly twisted her wrist, jerking her torn hand away from his shirt.
“Are you okay?” he asked. “That was a hard fall.”
“You saw it?” She closed her eyes as the light above the saloon door flickered back to life. That was not how she’d planned to gain Cole’s attention.
Not that she wanted his attention any longer, she reminded herself. She was moving on to new pastures, with new crushes that would actually go somewhere.
But mmm, he felt good.
“Let’s see your hand,” he commanded. He slowly released her, as though unsure whether she’d stay upright without his support, then carefully cupped her hand, a frown creasing his face. “Ouch.”
“It’s not that bad. Really,” she said quickly. She tried to step away, wincing as her jeans scraped against her injured knee. Could you break a kneecap? Or had she just bruised it beyond comprehension?
Cole caught her arms, then crouched to inspect the damage. His white shirt was bunching at his shoulders. It had black stitching above the pockets and she recognized it as one he’d had years ago. It barely fit him now, his years away having added to his muscular build. As he gently pushed back the torn fabric, he sucked air between his teeth and adjusted his cowboy hat. She knew it likely looked bad, but having a former rodeo star act as though it truly was allowed the pain to sink in even deeper.
“Can you walk?”
“Of course.” She hobbled a few steps, pride forcing her to tip her chin up in defiance of the throbbing.
“You’re bleeding,” Cole said. He’d crossed his arms, his shirt bunching and stretching at his shoulders again. It seemed as if he might bust out of the thing. She closed her eyes, trying to fight the image of what that might look like. “You need to get cleaned up.” He stretched out an arm as though about to guide her back into the saloon, but she shook her head.
She braved a glimpse at her knee in the faint glow of light. Not good. And her new jeans weren’t doing great, either, the fabric over the knee ripped and already stained by blood. She didn’t even want to consider the large scuff across the toe of one of her new shoes. And she certainly didn’t want to go back inside and have people fuss over her.
“I live just down the block,” she said, hobbling a step toward her apartment.
He straightened. “I’ll walk you.”
“It’s fine, really.” Jackie took a few more tentative steps. “You can’t leave your party.”
“On the contrary.” He hooked an arm around her waist, as he had earlier. The move felt natural and fluid, not at all awkward like their conversations had been since his return home. “It’s my party so I can do whatever I want.” He flashed her one of those patented Cole Wylder devilish smiles and that fizzy feeling enveloped her.
“Fine. Miss your welcome-back party. See if I care.” Her voice sounded breathless to her own ears, and she reminded herself that he was Mr. Fun and she was no longer Miss Short-Term Fling.
Cole gave her a grin that melted her insides. “You’re down this way, right?” He pointed toward her building and she nodded.
“You’re not sad to miss the hoopla?” she asked, after limping along beside him for a few moments.
“It’s weird being the center of attention.”
“You don’t like it?”
“It’s as if everyone only knows…” He inhaled sharply and shook his head. Jackie felt a stab of awareness that was not at all unpleasant.
“They only know the old version of you?” she suggested, inching along beside him.
He stopped moving and looked down at her. He was about four inches taller, a sexy, sexy height that made her feel extra feminine. “Yeah.”
Her heart softened. “And they don’t seem to want to see who you are now?”
Their eyes met and locked for several beats, and Jackie was struck by an odd feeling. It was as though they understood each other, on some plane that nobody else in town even seemed to know existed.
Cole cleared his throat and looked away.
Jackie hazarded a few more slow, limping steps. Rusty was still fussing over her, dancing around and nudging her leg with his nose.
“This your dog?” Cole asked.
“No, this is Rusty.”
A shadow crossed Cole’s face. It was fleeting, but telling.
“You haven’t met?” she asked casually, realizing Rusty had become a fixture in Cole’s absence. She guessed it must be odd to return to a town you’d always known and have a gap in its history, missing small, new things everyone else assumed you knew.
Jackie winced and leaned closer to Cole as they stepped off the curb to cut across Main Street. It was empty other than a few vehicles parked in front of The Watering Hole. “He was a stray a few years back. He started hanging out in front of the saloon, begging for day-old cheese bread. Brant was going to find him a new home as part of his animal control duties, but by then, in just a few days, Rusty had won everyone over. The bar’s owners adopted him and built him a doghouse out back. He has a dish of food and water, but still loves the cheese bread best. In the summer he ducks under the swinging doors to visit all the patrons. He’s become a local institution, like Bill.”
“Isn’t Bill an armadillo?”
“Town mascot,” Jackie confirmed. She loved Sweetheart Creek and all its quirks.
She glanced at Cole to see what he thought of her story, and he smiled, his eyes shadowed under the brim of his cowboy hat. The smile was warm and satisfying, and felt like it was just for her.
As they reached the other side of the street, Cole snugged her closer, helping her take the weight off her knee as she stepped up onto the sidewalk. It was good being in his arms, and for a moment Jackie thought that maybe one day she might have something like this, just like everyone else.
* * *
Cole helped Jackie navigate the narrow staircase that led from Main Street to the apartment above the accounting office. She was leaning on him a bit more, the creaking stairs testing her hindered mobility. With her body pressed tight to his side, she smelled like strawberries. He considered carrying her, but it didn’t feel right, despite his desire to bring her ever closer. He got the impression she was holding on to something vital by a very thin string tonight, and that it might break if he didn’t tread carefully.
This fragility, if you could call it that, didn’t compute with the Jackie he’d always known. That woman was an unstoppable ray of sunshine. Not that this version wasn’t…
On the outside Jackie was still that warm, open, smiling woman who’d always made him perk up whenever she entered a room. You never knew what she’d do, but it was sure to lead to a few laughs. He and his brothers had always been a bit afraid of Jackie, fearing what might happen if she ever caught them on the playground after all that chasing.
But tonight, and actually, ever since his return, he’d noticed a hint of something-not-quite-right stalking her glowing smiles like a shadow. He’d said something to Brant, but his brother had brushed it off. Maybe she’d been like this for so long nobody had noticed?
Or maybe Cole was just wishing he wasn’t the only one entertaining ghosts and pain.
They had reached the landing at the top of the stairs, with an apartment door on either side. Jackie fumbled with her keys by the door to the right, and he took them, worked the lock, then pushed open the door.
“I always wondered what these apartments looked like,” he said, as she flicked on the lights. “I heard they have quite the wait list.”
The space was open, warm and cheerful, and smelled like Jackie’s fruity lip balm and vanilla. It was a far cry from the functional spaces he’d been staying in over the last several years. This was a home. There were thriving plants, cheerful prints on the walls, mismatched furniture that somehow all jived together, area rugs tossed willy-nilly over the old hardwood floors. He could picture it during the day, sun-soaked and bright thanks to the large windows overlooking the street.
“Home sweet home,” Jackie muttered. She’d taken a step away from him, but now reached out, tugging on his shirt. “Help me to the couch.” She pointed to the sitting area in front of them. A kitchen and eating nook were to the right, overlooking the street, and to the left was a wall with two doorways, likely leading to a bedroom and a bathroom.
He complied, patiently assisting her. She clung to him, the uneasiness and quiet shyness that had defined her around him since his return, gone. She was leaning heavily on him, comfortable being so close. He liked it. It hinted at something familiar, and it gave him hope, as if he’d eroded one of the many walls between him and the people he’d once known around town.
“So what other crazy animals do I need to know about in Sweetheart Creek?” he asked as he settled her on the couch, surprised to find that the fuzzy black pillow beside her was in fact a dog.
“None that I can think of other than this little beast,” Jackie said, giving her pet a fond pat. The medium-size dog had corkscrew curls, so long that its eyes were hidden behind the ridiculous shaggy fur. “This is Goose.” Her voice turned affectionate, and the canine wriggled across the cushions to curl up against her side.
“Has a lot changed since you left?” She winced as Cole helped elevate her leg, propping it on the coffee table in front of her. He slipped a silky red cushion under her heel.
When he summoned the courage to look at Jackie, her expression was open and curious. No apparent judgment, just welcoming acceptance. He wanted to soak it in, pull her into his arms and give her a hug.
“I was saying at Christmas that it seemed like nothing ever changed when I lived here. But it turns out all you have to do is go away for a few years. Then everything changes.” He chuckled, trying to disguise the ache in his chest that had somehow made its way into his voice.
“Well, I’m still the same.”
“No, you’re quieter.” He settled himself on the coffee table across from her. Cole knew he should return to his party, but felt like they were precariously perched on the cusp of something good, and he didn’t want to disturb whatever it might turn out to be. A conversation. A connection. A sense that he wasn’t alone. A shared smile. It was small, easy to overlook or dismiss, but it somehow felt… important. Like this was the place he was supposed to be right now.
“I’m not quieter!” She seemed surprised, her face scrunched into an adorable expression of protest.
“Around me you are.”
She scoffed, nothing more than a soft huff riding on a cloud of disbelief, but it made him smile, anticipating what she’d say next.
“Well, that’s because I have a secret crush on you, and now that you’re here in the flesh it’s very difficult to think and speak.” She flashed that flirtatious, fun grin he loved so much. She did such a good job of putting on the facade that he almost forgot about the sadness darkening her blue, hazel-flecked eyes. “I mean, if you stay a moment longer I can’t be responsible for what I might do to you.”
“Most women in your position would have ripped my clothes off already,” he said, playing along. “You didn’t fake this fall just to get me alone, did you?”
She choked with amused disbelief. “You think you’re worth this?” She held up her shredded palm and gestured to her swollen knee. “Your ego always was mighty huge, Cole.” She narrowed her eyes and dropped her voice an octave, sending tingles up his spine as she batted her lashes. “I’m glad to see that hasn’t changed.”
He chuckled. There was something about Jackie Moorhouse that made him want to kiss her.
“Where’s your first aid kit?” he asked.
“I don’t have one.”
“You’re right. You haven’t changed, despite being quieter.” He sighed loudly, as though bearing a burden. “Wild and out of control, living life without a first aid kit.”
She laughed. “And do you have one. Wild Wylder?”
He tensed at the old nickname. “I’m sure there’s one on the ranch,” he said mildly. “So I own part of one.”
Jackie laughed, the sound rich and contagious. Her face lit up, reminding him of the girl she used to be. The layer of tension and worry that had been present lifted, and it was as though everything in her world had been righted again.
By him.
But still… Cole knew better. Those shadows were still there, even if he couldn’t see them at the moment.
“Point me to your bathroom,” he said. “We’ll get you fixed up.”
“You’re supposed to be at your party.”
He leaned forward, placing a hand on her thigh, above her uninjured knee. She froze, her breathing coming to a halt. Maybe she still had that crush on him, after all. Or maybe she wasn’t immune to the tension that suddenly coiled and crackled around them. “And what kind of host would I be if I allowed one of my guests to go home alone, wounded and without care?”
Jackie rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. He frowned. They were having a moment here; couldn’t she see that? Had his moves grown that rusty?
“What?” he protested, when she continued to act unimpressed. He lifted his hand from her leg, unable to stop smiling. “I’m trying to be a gentleman.”
She raised her brows, amusement dancing in her eyes.
“It’s new to me,” he muttered, moving aside the torn denim to study her injured knee, eager to avoid meeting her gaze.
“Okay, well, in that case you’re doing very well. If I were a teacher I’d give you about a B. Maybe a B minus.”
“Only a B?” He looked up indignantly. “I scooped you up off the street. I escorted you home. I haven’t once done anything inappropriate.”
“Well, obviously you don’t read your audience very well,” she said, sucking in her cheeks as though fighting a smile. Her eyes were dancing again. They were losing their darkness, turning a deep shade of blue, almost indigo. It was mesmerizing, and incredibly heady knowing he’d had that effect.
He set his hat on the table beside him, and her dog stretched and groaned with contentment. Surprised, Cole felt a sting of envy.
He fiddled with his hat before slowly looking up at Jackie again. “I’ll admit I’m confused about what it takes to be a gentleman.”
She was a flirt, and he knew enough to be aware that her hints to do something inappropriate weren’t genuine invitations.
Not that he’d take them. He’d spent many hours sitting in a brew pub in the small mountain town of Blueberry Springs, sipping whiskey and considering the various ways he could make things right again once he returned home. If he ever did.
One of the possible solutions was to focus on his family. Another was to swear off women for a while, to give himself time to mend his reputation, instead of slipping back into his old life and reinforcing old images of himself.
He’d already spent several years alone, moving from job to job across the country to keep himself distracted from his homesickness. So another six months—long enough to prove to the town that he was a stable adult, no longer prone to making the impulsive errors of youth—wouldn’t kill him.
There was also the minor fact that he wasn’t much of a catch at the moment. His childhood bedroom had been turned into an office during his absence, and he was currently crashing in one brother’s old bedroom on the family ranch—an operation that was profitable because of his eldest brother’s hard work. Not his own. Levi had been the one to stay, take care of family, pick up and hold all the pieces Cole had left scattered when he’d left. Now that he’d returned, he didn’t feel he could simply waltz in and claim his share. He had to earn it back, along with his family’s trust.
In other words, he had little to provide right now. And being thirty-three, he needed to have something to offer. A house. A real stake in the family ranch. Something more than nothing.
Hence no women, even if Jackie flirted outrageously and had the most kissable, moist lips he’d seen in eons.
Realizing he was staring, he leaped from his spot on her coffee table and strode toward the back of the apartment, pausing in what turned out to be the bathroom doorway. The array of beauty products cluttered on the vanity amazed him. This woman couldn’t pack her life into a duffel bag and be on the road in fifteen minutes or less, that was for sure. He opened the medicine cabinet, flicking through the contents until he located a box of bandages. Next he found a stack of facecloths on the small rack above the toilet. He dampened one of the cloths and headed back to where his patient was waiting.
Jackie was wriggling out of her jeans, a flash of white thigh burning an image into his brain.
He pivoted, turning his back to the room, his breathing ragged.
“Sorry, I can’t access my knee.” He could hear her struggling with the denim and his mind roamed, imagining the full expanse of bare thighs, calves and ankles, the style and color of her underwear.
His resolve to forgo women was dissolving like tissue paper in a rainstorm. It had been a very long time indeed, and another six months felt like self-imposed torture.
“Can you help?” she asked, frustration thickening her voice.
Cole swallowed hard. “I have a feeling you’re not decent…”
“Well, a lot of my jokes aren’t, but at the moment I have my jacket covering anything interesting. So if you don’t mind being a gentleman and tugging the cuffs of my jeans, that would be great.”
“If stripping you means being a gentleman, then I might just have this in the bag,” he joked, reining in his libido as he headed to the couch. Her dog had abandoned his spot and was now stretched out on an area rug near the door, belly to the sky.
Jackie’s jacket was draped over her lap, and Cole struggled with the sting of disappointment upon missing a glimpse of her underwear.
“Tug here?” he asked, hooking his thumbs in the tight ankles of her jeans. “Ever heard of boot cut?”
“I was trying something new,” she said, gesturing to the high heels she’d kicked under the table.
“Sexy,” he said, before realizing the comment might make her uncomfortable, seeing as he was currently peeling off her jeans, and trying—and likely failing—to act as though it didn’t affect him.
“That was the idea,” Jackie murmured, scowling at the pink shoes.
“Catch anyone while out trolling?” he asked idly, sliding the pants from her legs. She hissed as the material grazed her left knee. He reminded himself of his personal vow to remain single. He tended to take charge of women’s problems like they were his own, which had been unappreciated and a source of constant tension with April. He hurt people, and he hadn’t quite figured out how not to do that yet.
There was no way he was going to take a lovely, lighthearted woman like Jackie Moorhouse and run her through the Cole wringer. Or as Brant had once called him, the human hurricane. She might look tough, but he sensed there was something delicate about her.
He gently cupped a hand over the skin above her knee. It was warm, the joint already swelling. It wouldn’t be long until it was all colors of the rainbow. “Think you broke anything?”
“Hope not.”
“Have any ice?”
She nodded and gestured to the kitchen.
“Here, work on cleaning up.” Cole handed her the items he’d collected from the bathroom, then returned moments later with a bag of ice from her fridge freezer. He settled himself across from her once again, sitting on the table, then helped her stretch her injured leg along his thigh. Awareness prickled everywhere their bodies touched.
“Try this.” He gingerly lowered the ice onto her knee. For a moment their hands connected as they positioned it. He dragged his away, wondering why the touch had felt meaningful and tender.
“Remember when you used to chase me at recess?” he asked.
“You never let me catch you,” she replied, a slight scolding tone in her voice.
“What would’ve happened if you had?” He figured she’d been all about the pursuit. But a part of him was curious if she’d had plans for him if she’d ever managed to snag him.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” Her sly smile sent tingles up his spine again, and caused a tightness in his torso.
“I would.” Their eyes locked. “And it seems as though you’ve currently caught me.”
Her eyes, still that crazy indigo, hid behind lowered lashes for a long moment. Then she looked up, her steady gaze locked on his once again.
“Cole,” she said gently, and he tensed himself for the letdown. “You’re a catch-and-release cowboy.”
He nodded, thinking that for the first time in a long while, he wanted to be catch-and-keep.
* * *
“What if you kept me for a spell?” Cole asked. While he’d posed the question lightly, making it easy to laugh off, Jackie’s stomach filled with heat. It was an offer. An offer from Cole Wylder.
But it was for something akin to a fling. Nothing more.
“Yeah?” she asked softly, playing along, while her heart sank and her hope soared like a traitor. “How long should I keep you?”
His lake-blue eyes darkened and his tongue rolled across his top lip as though he was imagining a flavor. As though imagining kissing her?
She wriggled to the edge of the couch, her head spinning. She reached forward, allowing her good hand to drift across the shoulders she’d dreamed about for so long.
She didn’t want a fling, but she could enjoy a kiss before releasing him and the ancient crush that no longer served her, discard it like a hermit crab would its outgrown shell.
She watched him as she moved into his space. He hesitated for almost too long, then his hand slipped up her bare thigh, the other cupping her face, causing her to shiver.
When he was a breath away, he stated, “I’ve sworn off women.”
Jackie froze. He was finally about to kiss her, and he’d sworn off women? He’d asked her to keep him, but he didn’t want her?
She sighed, the sound one of longing. Cole Wylder was still destined to dart in and out of the lives of women.
And yet there was pain and regret in his hesitant confession she didn’t fully understand. But she realized he was no longer the wild cowboy some folks seemed to think he was—if he ever had been.
“Me, too. I mean, I’ve sworn off men.” Jackie’s hands were on his upper thighs, holding on as though she was afraid to let go, afraid she’d listen to herself and walk away. “Flings. One-night stands. They’re all a no.”
She was about to lean back, break the connection, but Cole tenderly stroked her cheek, wrapping a spell around her. He was taking her in with that studious look of his, making her feel as though he was here, totally present.
“So we are both saying no.”
“We are both saying no,” she confirmed, hating her own lack of resistance, the way she was leaning closer, allowing the spell to weave and tighten around her like a climbing vine.
“I told myself I was going to do things differently this time,” he said, after clearing his throat. He had eased back as though someone had flooded him in light, making him aware of what he’d been doing. “I have fences to mend. I’m sorry.”
“I rejected you first,” she said, suddenly angry with the push-pull between them, and the way he was making it seem as though she didn’t understand that this wasn’t going to work out.
He laughed. “I know.”
“You’re a tease.”
“So are you,” he retorted quickly.
“No, I’m a flirt.”
“No, you tease with those pained, sad eyes, hiding behind your sunshine and laughter.”
“I’m fine,” she insisted, but she felt her chin tremble. Somehow, having her pain recognized made it hurt all the more.
They were quiet for a moment, Cole focused on the ice pack resting on her knee. They were still close, and he tipped forward so he could rest his forehead against hers with a sigh. Her lips were a whisper from his, and there was an urgency in his voice as he asked, “Can I kiss you anyway?”
She glanced upward, then caught her breath. He was so close. She didn’t think she’d ever looked anyone in the eye at such proximity. His irises had a dark ring around the edges, and his lashes were black, intensifying the blue.
A kiss… A kiss wasn’t a fling. Surely that would be okay? Something for her to carry with her like a souvenir of her long-standing, now-expired crush.
“Yes.”
Finally, his lips met hers, in a kiss she’d been imagining since elementary school. The fantasy had evolved over the years from a stolen peck to one full of passion and heat. The real Cole was no disappointment.
At first the kiss was tentative and she groaned in frustration. She swept her tongue against his closed lips, wanting more. If she was relenting and kissing him, she wanted nothing held back.
His intake of breath stirred the air around them, a split second of hesitation where she sensed he’d allowed his mind to assess the situation and decide his next move. She shifted forward, sliding from the couch onto his lap, bracing herself with her good leg so she wouldn’t land on the floor.
She could feel the moment Cole stopped thinking, his kisses becoming unbridled. She could barely breathe, inhaling through her nose as she came up for air, before diving in for more. His mouth was exploratory, hungry, his response impelled by a need that matched her own.
Waves of electricity zipped between them, sharp, biting, almost painful. And filled with so much longing it took what was left of her breath away.
And in that moment Jackie knew she’d made a grave error.
One kiss with Cole was not harmless. Not by a long shot.
She pushed him away, her heart pounding. If he stayed one minute longer, she’d do the exact thing she’d promised herself she wouldn’t. She’d undo everything and be that woman April had scorned and laughed at earlier in the evening. The woman who would never find love.
Jackie looked up, determined. “That was nice. But it was a mistake.”
She slid back to the couch, to the safety of not being in his arms.
Cole seemed dazed, confused.
“This isn’t good for either of us.” She pointed to the door, unable to meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, but you need to leave.”