She still had her panties.
Jenna held tight to the knowledge as she slipped inside her house later that night. As wild and out of control as she’d been tonight, she’d had the good sense to grab her undies off his tailgate and stuff them into her purse. The steady hum of a motor out front reminded her that Hunter still hadn’t pulled away yet and for a split second, she forgot her good fortune and thought about hauling open the door and doing a striptease for him in the blaze of headlights.
Despite the fact that she had to crawl out of bed before the crack of dawn in order to make it out to the Holiday Hills Ranch to take a look at their new breeding stock of goats the next morning.
The urge gripped her and her hands trembled, but then Jez scrambled from the kitchen. Her claws slid across the hardwood floor in a frantic scrape as she rushed for the door.
Jenna fought her lust and scooped up the white ball of fluff. The dog licked at her frantically for a few seconds before her high-pitched barks filled the air. Jenna set her on the floor and she danced in place for a few seconds before leading the way to the kitchen and the treat jar.
She gathered her control, forced herself away from the front door, and followed Jez into the kitchen. She unearthed the dog’s favorite biscuits from the cabinet and fed one to the frantic animal.
The dog wolfed down the goodie and barked and danced for another.
“One a day. You know the rule.”
Rules.
That’s what her life was all about now. About respecting boundaries and walking the straight and narrow and playing it safe even if she had backslid for those few moments on the swing. And at the honky-tonk. And tonight overlooking the lake.
But she was home now.
Back to reality.
She walked into her bedroom and sank down on the bed. Eyeing the stack of letters, she thought about picking them up and continuing on with the story. Clara had already left for Chicago. The baby was due any day and she was planning how she was going to escape after the birth and get back to Texas, to her one true love, with their baby in tow.
Dearest P.J. was waiting and Clara was determined.
Even so, she’d obviously failed.
Clara was most certainly here in Rebel, so she’d made it back. She’d obviously been single upon her return because she’d gone on to marry a DeMassi and give birth to his son. A son who’d gone on to marry and have his own sons, one of which was Hunter’s father.
There’d never been any whisperings of a scandal, no illegitimate child haunting Clara and her family. Jenna knew that firsthand because she’d inadvertently milked Miss Ann at the clinic for information.
“Can you believe Clara Bell Sawyer is going to be ninety-three? I can’t imagine living that long,” she’d said earlier that afternoon while handing over a stack of charts to be filed.
“Well the Lord certainly blesses those who do his work,” Miss Ann had said, taking the files and handing Jenna her next chart—a python by the name of Monty who had stopped eating his usual diet of mice after downing a plastic fern from his aquarium. He was stopped up and it was Jenna’s job to act as the plunger. “Clara Bell has always been a treasure to this town. A shining example of a fine woman. She married well and had a fine family. Our very own sheriff is proof of that, although I hear tell he was certainly a wild one back in the day. Might have thrown it all away on that rodeo nonsense if it hadn’t been for Clara’s guidance. She kept him on the up and up and now he’s carrying on the family tradition and doing the Sawyers proud.”
Even if his own parents didn’t realize it.
She remembered Hunter’s earlier comments about his brother and his folks. They never called.
Or cared.
She couldn’t imagine abandoning her own child.
Any more than Clara could imagine giving hers up for adoption.
But she’d obviously done it.
The notion stirred a rush of sadness and Jenna bypassed the letters and killed the light. The truth would come soon enough, just as tomorrow would dawn and she would be back to work, walking the straight and narrow and trying not to think about Hunter and the next time she would see him.
For now, she wanted to hold the moment. The satisfaction. The hope.
Just for a little while longer.
* * *
Hunter watched the bedroom window go dark before he shoved the truck into Reverse and pulled out of Jenna’s drive all the while fighting the urge to haul ass up her front steps, pull her out onto the porch, and take her up against the front of the house. Her back flat against the peeling wood. His thigh pressing between her legs. His hands pulling at her clothes. Her hands clutching his back. His cock pushing deep into her wet heat …
He stiffened against the urges and his fingers tightened on the steering wheel.
Drive, a voice screamed. Now. Before you lose the head on your shoulders and start thinking with the one between your legs.
Not because he cared if someone happened along and saw them together.
This wasn’t about Jenna and her worry that someone might see them together and get the wrong idea.
He was worried about his own sense of self-preservation. She made him want to do things that no fine, upstanding man should want to do. She brought out the bad ass in him that he’d fought so long to deny.
Too long.
He wasn’t going back to the man he’d once been. Not for Jenna or anyone else.
He’d made a life for himself. One built on respect and admiration and acceptance—all the things he’d never had growing up.
Things he’d never deserved.
Until now.
He was the sheriff, for Christ’s sake. He had a career. A flawless reputation. He certainly wasn’t giving it all up for a good lay.
Even a phenomenal one.
Jenna Tucker was just a temporary fall from grace. A rush of excitement to tide him over during all the long, boring nights to come.
He certainly wasn’t falling for her.
Not no, but hell no.