Riding the Storm (18 page)

Neither of them had said much about what had happened in the barn, beyond his report that she’d dozed for about twenty minutes and that he’d have to get back on the roof in the morning since he’d run out of daylight to complete the job. As eagerly as they’d stripped off their clothes and explored each other’s bodies, they’d made a point of turning their backs to each other and hurriedly dressing.

Jolene couldn’t tell if that was the practical side of Nate—after all, he’d insisted on carting everything back
down the ladder for her, then climbing down a few rungs ahead of her in case she lost her grip or missed her footing. Or whether the reality of what he’d just done—and who he’d done it with—had set in along with regret.

The dinner itself had been a delicious concoction of stew from one of his Grandpa Nate’s secret recipes. Nate had tossed in just about every type of meat and vegetable they had on hand so that nothing would go to waste now that the contents of her freezer had thawed. Jolene’s plate was embarrassingly clean, even after two helpings and a serving of “creme brulee” made from a pudding cup, brown sugar and the lighter for the grill—Nate’s creation. Her ravenous appetite was the result of pregnancy and hard work—and the emotional and physical drain of having sex.

Great sex.

Change-her-life-in-one-orgasmic-rush-and-cuddle-like-she-was-in-love-afterward sex.

“Oh, Lordy.”

Jolene flipped on the switch of a battery-powered lantern, knowing that standing around in the dark and reliving every moment before, during and after the event wasn’t going to improve her situation any.

The lantern flooded the kitchen with a cool, yellowish light that hinted at secrets and shadows and unknown hazards beyond the edges of its illumination. It was nothing like the warm, cocooning rays of sunshine that had warmed her body and wrapped her in a hopeful spell up in the loft that afternoon with Nate.

She’d made love to a man.

He’d made love to her.

She’d lost her freaky status as Turning Point’s first
and only pregnant virgin. She’d lost a few of those self-conscious doubts about her own sexuality.

She’d lost her heart. Sealed the deal completely. Set herself up to be hurt in ways that a mother’s abandonment and a good friend’s death couldn’t touch. Jolene had been too young to fully comprehend her mother’s choice, and she hadn’t had the skills or the miracle up her sleeve to save Joaquin’s life.

But she could have kept her feelings for Nate in check. They could have stayed friends and coexisted at a less intimate level if she’d been paying closer attention. But, no, like everything else, she’d jumped in with both feet and no life jacket and fallen in love with the guy. She’d listened to her heart and trusted her gut and completely ignored common sense and the inevitable pain headed her way.

She’d known him for thirty-six hours. Thirty-six! And they’d barely gotten along for the first twelve. There were men in Turning Point she’d known all of her twenty-eight years whom she’d never even considered dating. And now she’d not only slept with this stranger, she’d given him her heart.

“Idiot.”

Jolene wrapped up the leftover stew and placed it in an ice chest. She’d insisted on cleaning up, since Nate had cooked. It was only fair. Besides, if he wasn’t in the mood to say much, she wasn’t in the mood for listening to silence.

Now he was washing up in the bathroom, sponging himself off with the basin of water they’d set aside for bathing. He was probably in there naked. Naked and gorgeous from the front or the back and counting the
dings and bruises on his body that she was directly or indirectly responsible for. Washing her scent off his body and planning the next home-repair project that would keep him busy and away from her dangerous, overenthusiastic, unwanted attentions.

Sex was one thing.

Commitment was something else.

Nate Kellison lived in California. He had family he loved there. He had an important job.

She was a small-town Texas girl with a baby on the way. She had a legacy to rebuild and maintain for her son. She had a single father who needed her. This was where she had to stay.

California. Texas.

Nate. Jolene.

Big trouble.

He was going to leave her.

Gripping the edge of the table, Jolene held on as fearful anticipation buffeted through her. She hugged her baby and blinked back the sting of tears. “Oh, Dad. I wish I could talk to you right now.”

She needed Mitch Kannon’s patient ear and fatherly hug and hopeful reminder that not everyone she loved left her.

But once the flood waters receded, once the state of emergency had been terminated, Nate would have no reason to stay. A few long talks and some amazing sex couldn’t erase all the arguments, or the injuries, or the impulsive mistakes, or the lack of experience with men that made her more of a project than a helpmate.

Wait a minute.

“Dad?” A new thought popped into Jolene’s head,
momentarily putting the brakes on the downward spiral of her emotions. Could Nate think that he’d broken his promise to her father? That he’d stepped beyond the boundaries of
taking care
of her?

Was it possible that Nate’s polite withdrawal had more to do with the value of his word than with her?

He could be plain old tired.

He might feel guilty.

Things might be moving way too quickly for a thoughtful guy like Nate.

Or…she could be the problem.

Suffused with renewed energy, Jolene picked up the lantern and patted her tummy. “Let’s go find out.”

Hurrying through the familiar rooms in her bare feet, Jolene entered the master bedroom and crossed straight to the bathroom door. She had her fist raised to knock when she heard him moving around inside, knocking something over, muttering beneath his breath.

Maybe she’d better let him finish his business before she demanded answers. She pulled her hand back to her side and turned off the lantern. Patience really wasn’t her strong suit, but for this, she could wait.

Padding back across the carpet, she climbed up onto the blue and white quilt that covered her four-poster bed, leaned against one of the polished oak posts and planned what she wanted to say.

Her eyes had adjusted to the moonlit darkness by the time the bathroom door opened.

She popped up off the bed the instant Nate appeared.

“Can we talk about what happened in the barn?”

“Talk?” He froze in the doorway.

She stood close enough to see that he’d shaved. The
two-day growth of beard was gone, along with a couple of nicks of skin. Apparently, he’d braved the cold water, disposable shaver route. But she didn’t ask if he’d found the shaving cream stored beneath the sink or borrowed some lotion to smooth the burn.

She looked straight into those whiskey-brown eyes. “Even if I don’t like your answers, I need to hear them.”

“I’m not dressed.”

Jolene followed his gaze as he glanced down at the white towel wrapped around his hips and held together with his fist.

She swallowed hard, feeling light-headed from a rush of heat. Wow, there was a lot of man showing there. And it all seemed to be leanly sculpted around one very fit body.

She took in the mean red cut on his shoulder and the neat white stitching that held it together. She noted the flat stomach and the indented belly button two or more inches above the edge of that terry cloth. And though his most vulnerable parts were covered, the towel slit apart and revealed a long, muscular thigh, misshapen knee and length of leg covered in a patchwork of shiny scars that caught and reflected the moonlight.

Jolene felt her heart clutch at the marks of so much suffering, even as it quickened at the sight of all that muscle and skin. “I didn’t see these this afternoon.” She reached out to touch one wound, to offer comfort. “Oh, Nate. I’m so sorry.”

“Whoa.” He put out his hand to ward hers off and jumped back a step. “Can’t we put this off for a little while? You know, get a good night’s sleep and talk in the morning?”

What? Jolene shifted her gaze back to the firm warning in his eyes. He didn’t want her to touch him. Fine. She could live with that.

No, she couldn’t.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts and reminding herself of the reason she was here in the first place. “I need to do this now. There are a couple of things that are making me crazy.” Like the fact he was standing in front of her nearly naked, but she wasn’t allowed to touch. She shrugged, apologizing for her lousy timing. “Besides, you can’t get dressed. I rinsed out your clothes and hung them up to dry. I’m sure they’re still damp.”

He glanced up at the ceiling and inhaled a deep breath before nailing her with a conversation-closed look. “Jolene, a man likes to have his pants on when he’s having a serious discussion.”

“So you do think that what happened between us is serious?”

Nate plopped his hand on her shoulder and scooted her out of the way before crossing to the foot of the bed, where he had room to turn around. “Of course, I do. I’m not a guy who sleeps with that many woman.”

She whirled around to face him. “So you were just lonely for a woman to sleep with?”

“Don’t put words in my mouth.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“Explain why I made love to you?”

Made love.
At least that sounded as if it hadn’t been a completely awful or embarrassing experience for him.

Jolene moved closer and hugged her arm around the bedpost. He didn’t retreat. Another good sign? Or was
he getting angry? “You haven’t said much of anything about it.”

“I’m not a guy who talks about—”

“I know I came on pretty strong. And then maybe I didn’t follow through and make it good enough for you.”

“That’s not—”

“We haven’t known each other for very long. But like you said, I feel I know you better than some people I’ve known my whole life.”

“I know,” he agreed. “I feel that, too. But—”

“I thought maybe it had something to do with promising Dad to take care of me. But I’m twenty-eight years old. A grown woman. I’m responsible for my own choices. I can take care of myself.”

“What are you say—?”

“Do you regret having sex?”

“It wasn’t just sex. Jolene, you’re not the kind of a woman that a man—”

“If it isn’t me, is there some other reason why you don’t want to talk about what happened between—”

“If you want me to talk, let me talk.”

His voice was sharp, his expression sharper.

Their coyote friend howled in the silence that followed.

Jolene gnawed on her lip for one nervous moment, then quietly answered. “Okay.”

Nate opened his mouth to speak, then hesitated, as if waiting to be interrupted again. Jolene dutifully kept her mouth shut.

“First…” He held up one finger, then seemed to decide it might be wiser to keep both hands on the towel. “I do not regret what happened in the loft. It might not have been the smartest move I’ve ever made—and yeah,
I’ve been thinking a lot about being your first and whether or not that was the smartest move
you
could have made. But I wanted to be with you.”

“I wanted to be with you, too.” Her soft whisper seemed to soothe his patience.

“Second. You were temptation itself, standing there with that shiny red apple and big blue eyes. I’d been working my butt off all day, trying to get you out of my system. After all that talk about liking my ass and being a whole man, I knew I had to keep my distance or I’d do something stupid. But there you were. I wanted you and I couldn’t resist.” He came a step closer, risked his grip on the towel, and raised one finger to brush the hair off her forehead. “I still can’t resist.”

“Do you think you’d ever…want to do it again?” She caught his hand when he would have pulled away. “With me?”

Turning his hand, he laced their fingers together and stroked his thumb along the back of her knuckles. “Is that another invitation?”

Jolene pressed her lips together and tried to focus on his eyes instead of the top of that towel and the slight protrusion she could see tenting beneath it. “Would you say yes?”

He raked his gaze over her, staring long enough to make her nipples bead up into tight knots and thrust against the T-shirt she wore. “I’m trying to do the right thing here, angel. It’s too soon for you. Even with the procedures you must have had to create that baby, after your first time, things are probably a little tender. We should wait.”

“Is that your medical opinion? Or a polite way of putting me off?”

Instead of answering, he dropped his hand to her belly and splayed his fingers there. “How’s the baby? I don’t want to hurt him, either.”

She pressed her hand over his, guiding him to little Joaquin’s responsive flutters. “We’re both fine.”

Nate’s fingers trembled with a gentle convulsion against her. He closed his eyes, but Jolene had already seen his pain. “He’s so tiny. Helpless. I want him to be strong. Grow tall. Learn how to ride a horse and play some baseball. If something happened to him, I couldn’t…”

A glimmer of understanding pushed aside her own quest for answers. He was holding something back because she was pregnant.

And that terrified him as much as it fascinated him.

Loosing her hold on him and the bed, Jolene reached up to frame his face between her hands. His skin was smooth to the touch now, though the muscles beneath were clenched tight. “Tell me about the baby, Nate.”

She didn’t have to explain which baby she was talking about. Clearly there was a little one somewhere in the world who haunted him. Moonlight sparkled in the tears he blinked away.

“I lost a little girl,” he announced starkly, snatching his hand away from her womb.

“Lost?”

He tapped his hands against her shoulders, then rubbed them up and down her arms, as if he wasn’t sure whether to latch on or move away. At last he took her wrists and pulled her hands from his face. “I couldn’t save her. There was hardly a mark on her. But she’d been thrown so far from the car. There was too much head and neck trauma. She wasn’t breathing. I couldn’t get her to breathe.”