Runaway Cowboy (3 page)

“What about Derek?”

Mike cocked his head to the side. “I love that boy, but we both know Derek is
not
a pickup man. At least, he won't be anytime soon. He has a lot of growing up to do before I want to put him in charge of saving lives.”

“I haven't talked to him since I left, so I can't say.” Clay didn't want to point out that Derek was simply coddled by everyone at the ranch and needed to stand on his own feet for a bit. He'd cowboy up if anyone ever gave him the opportunity. But it wasn't his place to say anything. He'd given up that right when he walked out on Jen and the rest of the family.

“Mike, I have to get back to Oregon. I have a job there, remember?” He knew he was making excuses and was sure Mike did, too.

Mike sat up in the saddle, sighing heavily, and shook his head. “Okay, I just thought that since you skipped out on me once before, you'd want to make it up to a feeble old man.”

Clay laughed out loud. “Feeble, you? When did you start dishing out guilt trips?”

“About the same time you decided to leave me in a lurch five years ago.” His eyes twinkled with merriment, as if he knew Clay was about to give in. Mike never minced words, but he didn't seem to hold Clay's departure against him. Clay knew he couldn't say no, not after all Mike had done for him in the past.

“Fine. I'll let them know I won't be back until next week. They don't have anything on the schedule for a while.” Clay narrowed his eyes as Mike grinned like the proverbial Cheshire Cat. “I'm only going to this one rodeo, Mike.”

“One rodeo, got it.”

Why did Clay get the feeling he'd just sold his soul to the devil?

J
ENNIFER BROUGHT THE
sausages to Scott at the barbecue pit and sighed. She felt weary, but she wasn't sure if it was because of the stress from traveling, not sleeping because of her nightmares, or Clay showing up at the rodeo today. Her eyes slid across the near-empty parking lot where most of the crew congregated, waiting for dinner, and saw Derek laughing with Clay by one of the trailers.

“What is he still doing here?” she muttered. It irritated her that everyone seemed to accept his presence as if he'd never left.

The corner of Scott's mouth quirked. “He said Mike asked him to stay to help with the rodeo next weekend.” He slid the plate of sausages from her hands like he didn't trust her not to throw them.

“He did what?” Mike knew what a low-down, conniving, back-stabbing jackass Clay was. Why would he possibly ask him to come back, even for a weekend? “He wouldn't do that.”

“He did. Jake's dad is sick, and it looks like he'll be in the hospital for at least a week. Mike told him to go be with his dad as long as he needs to.” She could see the empathy in Scott's eyes. They understood the pain of losing a parent, and none of them would ever begrudge someone time with family. Even if it meant she had to face Clay for a week.

“Is he going to be all right?”

Scott chewed at the corner of his mouth. “Don't know.”

“I'll call and see how he's doing tonight.” Jen looked back where Clay was now laughing with several of the crew. She wondered if she could manage to just ignore him until after the next rodeo. He had changed a lot in the past few years, filling out in all the right places. But his green eyes were somber, even more so than when he'd first come to work for Mike at the ranch. There had always been a quiet melancholy that hung over Clay, and he refused to open up about his past. Whenever she asked, he would grow silent before changing the subject, always reminding her how grateful he was for her love.

Now, he had a determined set to his chiseled jaw, and when his full lips spread to laugh, a dimple creased his left cheek. She'd always loved his smile. Her eyes flicked up, and she realized he was watching her appraising him. She looked away quickly, hoping he wouldn't assume her evaluation was any indication of attraction. That was the last thing she would ever feel for Clay Graham again. She might be a lot of things, but a fool wasn't one of them.

She headed for her trailer to prepare a pitcher of tea, refusing to give any credence to the idea that she might be retreating into the one place she knew Clay wouldn't be brave enough to enter. She ignored the flutters in her belly at the thought of him staying for a week. Damn Mike for asking him to stay, and damn Clay for accepting the offer. She stirred the sugar into the tea with a vengeance borne out of anger before bumping the screen door open with her hip and stepping onto the metal stairs.

“Here, let me help.”

She jumped at the sound of Clay's voice, tripping down the last step, nearly falling in the short grass, and spilling tea over the side of the pitcher onto her hand. Clay's hands found her waist, catching her, and heat sizzled down her sides, making her heart race and pooling in her stomach before traveling lower. She quickly stepped away from him, leaving him with his hands suspended in the air for a moment, as if he didn't know how to react to her escape. Clay dropped his hands against his thighs and sighed, staring at her as if her reaction disappointed him.

“I can manage on my own.” She looked away, drying her hand on her jeans. Unable to miss the sharp, icy note in her own voice, she wished she could have faked ambivalence instead. “I've been doing it for a long time without you.”

Way to make him think you're over him, Jen.

Clay bit his lower lip, taking a deep breath through his nose, controlling himself. She remembered how he used to do it whenever he got angry. What did
he
have to be angry about?

He let out the breath slowly, weighing his words. “I know you have.” His voice was husky and deep, like the Scotch Mike had given her to dull the pain after she'd realized he wasn't coming back, after he'd apologized to everyone but her. “Jen, I'm sorry I left the way I did. I should have at least called you.”

“You think?” The words were jagged and calloused, the way her heart felt. “You left me sleeping with your ring on my finger the day after giving it to me. Why did you even bother asking? And to think, your apology only took five years to make. Glad I didn't hold my breath waiting for it.”

She spun to leave, but he reached for her elbow, pulling her back toward him. “I didn't mean to hurt you, Jen.”

Of all the things she'd expected to hear from him, of all the excuses she imagined over the years, this was the most asinine thing he could have said. With nearly five years to think of something, anything, to say, this was the best he could manage? She couldn't help the acrimonious laughter that spilled out.

“You asked me to spend the rest of my life with you and then disappeared in the middle of the night without so much as a good-bye. Then you called and apologize to my family, not me but
my family
, and now you say you didn't mean to
hurt
me? What did you think it would do?”

He ran his free hand over his face, looking haggard and sorrowful. “I don't know. I was a stupid kid. It was five years ago. I didn't know how to tell you I was scared.”

“You were scared?” She jerked her elbow from his fingers. “Did you ever stop to think
I
might be scared too? But when you love someone, you work through the fear. I loved you enough to muddle through it and face the fear
with
you. Apparently, I was the only one.”

“That hasn't been my experience with love. I've seen too much go wrong, seen love fail every time. And that wasn't what I was afraid of, Jen. With my past—”

“I don't know your past, Clay.” She could feel her heart softening, wanting to give in to him, to forgive him. She'd loved this man once, with every beat of her heart, but it hadn't been enough. “You wouldn't open up to me. You never did.”

She wanted to see the sadness disappear from his eyes the way it used to when they were together, to let him hold her the way he used to, the two of them shutting out the world. Her heart beat painfully against her ribs. Giving in to him and watching him walk away again would kill her. The first time had taught her the foolishness of allowing someone into every recess of her heart. She wasn't stupid enough to do it twice.

“You had your chance and you threw it away. It's going to take more than a lame excuse for me to forgive you.” She spun on her heel, leaving him and their past behind her.

C
LAY FOLLOWED
J
EN'S
every move with his eyes, barely listening to Scott. Jen rose and threw her paper plate and plastic utensils in the garbage bag tied to the end of the table. She had no idea how graceful she looked, even doing menial tasks, or how much he had missed watching her over the past few years. Years of staring at the picture he'd kept in his wallet hadn't done justice to seeing the living, breathing woman in front of him now. She had an easy, understated elegance about her. Something about the way she made riding any horse look effortless and the way she seemed to glide as she walked. Every movement was fluid, like she was dancing. He couldn't help but remember how she looked lost in the throes of passion.

Better stop now, Clay, because if she knew what you were thinking about, she'd kill you right here in front of everyone.

His body seemed determined to defy his brain. No woman should look the way she did. With her hair pulled through the back of a baseball cap, she was the picture of innocence. Everything about her was modest, as if she were trying to hide her beauty, but any man could see it. She was barefaced, as always after a rodeo, but she had never needed any sort of makeup. Her dark lashes surrounded eyes so deep brown that they were almost black. Her olive skin tone was highlighted by a tan from spending so much time outdoors. Her golden brown ponytail hung in loose waves almost to her waist, longer than he remembered, and he itched to run his fingers through her hair. He wanted to slide his fingers over the indentation at her waist and the gentle flare of her hips. The last five years had been kind to her, turning her coltish frame into womanly curves.

“You're a glutton for punishment, Clay.” Scott pointed out the obvious.

Clay tore his eyes from Jen as she entered her trailer. “What makes you say that?”

“You know she hates you, right? She'd rather shoot you than forgive you.”

He knew Scott was joking, sort of, but his heart clenched anyway. It killed him knowing how badly he'd hurt her when he'd left, but after their earlier conversation, he didn't think she really hated him. In fact, he wondered if her hurt wasn't the main reason for her anger.

Clay rolled his eyes and gave Scott a confident grin. He was starting to formulate a plan for the next week. “Only because she needs a little persuasion.” He let his gaze linger on her as she came out with another pitcher of iced tea.

“You obviously don't remember how my sister can hold a grudge.”

“You obviously don't remember how charismatic I am.”

Scott snorted a laugh. “Yeah, I think that ship has sailed already.”

Clay eyed his friend, praying he was wrong, even as he contemplated walking away from this entire mess again. He was sure Mike could find another pickup man for the rodeo next week, but he had a feeling Mike was trying to play matchmaker. The only thing he wanted was to get Jen's forgiveness and then to move on with a clear conscience, something that was long overdue.

“Ten bucks says I can make her smile.”

“Twenty bucks says you don't.”

“Thirty bucks says she slaps you and walks away.” Both men looked over to see Derek flop down into one of the folding chairs.

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” Clay muttered, rising to his feet and grabbing their empty plates. The thought of Jen hating him forever was more than he could bear, and he was going to do his best to remedy the situation.

“Good luck,” Scott called after him.

“You'll need it,” Derek added.

“M
IND IF
I get a refill?”

Jennifer rolled her eyes at Clay but slid the pitcher toward him. “Be my guest.” She turned to leave. The less time she spent near him, the easier it would be to get through the next week.

“Do you realize everyone is making bets on how long it will take before you slap me?”

She arched a brow at him and leaned her hip against the table. “Really? Who has five minutes?”

“I think that would be me.” A smile curved his lips. It made him look younger and less cynical. He was always so damn handsome when he smiled.

She forced herself to look away, busying herself with shifting the food on the table and stacking empty bowls. “Then I'll wait a few more minutes so someone I like wins the money.” She gripped the edge of a half-empty bowl of potato salad.

He tried to hide the frown that furrowed his brow and turned his lips down again. It only lasted a second before he grinned and shot a glance at her brothers, still seated near Mike's trailer. “Come on, Jen. How can you say you don't like me?” He moved a step closer to her, his fingers toying at the side of the bowl, over hers.

Her gaze bounced from their hands to his green eyes. “It's real easy. I. Don't. Like. You.” She made sure to enunciate every word. Why couldn't he get the hint? She didn't want anything to do with him, not now, not ever again.

Jen pulled her hand from under his, but he took a step closer, his gaze holding her own. “You used to be friendlier,” he pointed out.

“And
you
used to be charming.”

Clay straightened his shoulders and took another step toward her as she backed away. “I'm still charming, with people who aren't antagonistic.”

How dare he insinuate that
she
was being antagonistic? Okay, well, maybe she was, but he deserved every bit of resentment she directed at him. The man left her lying in his bed after proposing and never gave her any explanation for his departure. She narrowed her eyes for a moment before she allowed a sweet smile to curve her lips.