Runaway Cowboy (6 page)

Scott stood and shook his head. “I don't know what kind of bullshit you've been telling yourself over the past five years, but the Clay I remember would have at least been honest. You might have left to help your mom, but you stayed away because you were too scared to admit the truth to Jen.”

He just walked away without giving Clay a chance to respond, leaving Clay staring at his empty hands, wondering how he could have ever imagined what he had now was worth what he'd given up.

J
ENNIFER SLID OPEN
the door between her room and the kitchenette of the trailer and saw Clay sleeping in Derek's spot on the couch, a thin throw blanket twisted around his legs. Typical cowboy, sleeping in whatever he was wearing and wherever he dropped. She tried not to stare at the broad wall of muscle that made up his chest or the way his T-shirt had ridden up, giving her a clear view of the ridges of his abs just above his belt buckle. She bit her lip and reached for a coffee cup, her mouth practically watering over the sexy specimen of male perfection lying on her couch. Clay had always been good looking, but the last few years had been generous to his physique. She didn't want to begin wondering about how the last five years had affected him emotionally. She knew how it had changed her and delving into that conversation would light a powder keg of vulnerability she wasn't sure she could handle.

Clay had never been one to share his feelings. Hell, he'd barely shared his
thoughts
when they'd been dating. Nor did he seem inclined to offer anything to her now other than an apology for leaving. She didn't want to hear his excuses; she wanted to know the truth. What had been so much more valuable to him than their relationship, than her heart? He stirred enough to shift on the small couch, trying to find some measure of comfort. His T-shirt rode higher on his side as he threw an arm over his head, smacking his knuckles against the wall.

“Ow.” He checked his hand for damage. She couldn't help but smile as she poured water into the small coffee pot on the counter, forcing herself to tear her eyes away from him.

“You could have let me sleep a bit longer,” he muttered.

“You want to work with Mike, you know the rules. Up early and animals first.” She watched as he sat up and scrubbed a hand over the scruff of beard growth on his jaw. “Coffee will be ready in a few minutes.”

Clay eyed her suspiciously. “You're sort of friendly this morning.”

“Yeah? Well, probably because you haven't pissed me off yet. But I'm sure you'll remedy that before breakfast.”

Clay rose and made his way toward her in stocking feet. She wanted to back away from him but forced herself to stand her ground, tipping her chin up to meet his gaze. She wasn't going to let him think anything about him intimidated her, and she certainly didn't want him thinking his nearness was turning her bones into a quivering mass of Jell-O. God, he smelled good. Like soap and leather and pine. She could see the smoldering desire in his eyes, and when he leaned forward, she nearly fell into his arms, ready for him to kiss her again.

“Cups?” He reached a hand to the cabinet behind her, brushing his other hand over her arm as he leaned past her.

Her heart leapt into her throat, racing, pounding hard enough that he had to be able to hear it. “Yeah,” she answered dumbly, jumping away from his touch.

Smooth, Jennifer.

Clay poured himself a cup of coffee from the half-brewed pot and turned back to the couch, but not before she caught the smile slowly curving over his lips. He knew exactly how he affected her and was doing it deliberately, the jerk. She grabbed her own mug and slammed the cabinet, causing him to turn back to her.

“Problem?”

“Nothing a little coffee and some fresh air can't fix,” she answered sweetly, pouring the cup and slipping on her boots.

“I'll feed. You sit. When I finish, I'll come back and help you make breakfast.”

It was something they'd done together before his departure. When they were on the road, he'd help Mike or Scott feed the animals before joining her each morning while she made breakfast for the crew. Most of the time, in the cramped space of the fifth-wheel, they would bump into each other and end up pressed against the refrigerator, kissing and leaving breakfast behind entirely to make a quick detour to the bedroom. She dragged her wayward thoughts back to the present, forcing herself to remember that her detours had led to nothing but a broken heart and shattered promises. Clay had a way of distracting her that wasn't healthy for her state of mind.

“I don't need help, Clay. I've been—”

“I know, doing it yourself for the last five years,” he finished for her. He looked up, pausing as he tugged on his boots, a frown curving his brow. “Jen, I know you don't
need
my help. You never have.” He straightened his pant legs over the boots, stood, and walked over to her. She took a step back, bumping against the counter as he reached out to brush his thumb over her cheek. “It was always that way with us, wasn't it? Maybe that was part of our problem.”

He didn't give her a chance to respond as he headed out the door but not before she saw the sadness in his eyes, the regret, and wondered if he might not be right. Looking back, she'd tried to be everything to him—his coworker, his confidante, his friend, and his lover. It hadn't worked. She gave him every moment of every day, and he'd taken everything with him when he walked away. She raised her fingers to where his thumb had caressed her cheek, her skin still tingling with arousal. She wondered if she'd ever told him the truth.

“I
do
need you, Clay. I always have.”

“J
ENNIFER, COME HERE
.” Mike didn't have to tell her he was disappointed in her. She could hear it loud and clear in his tone. “What is going on with you today?”

“I don't know.”

She knew exactly what was going on. Her gaze slid over the cowboys on horseback who were waiting at the back gate of the arena for the next event to begin. Clay laughed with Scott, his hat pulled low on his forehead. His eyes met hers, and she looked away quickly. She had to get her head on straight. Having Clay at the rodeo was doing exactly what she had worried it would—distracting her, scattering her focus.

“You forgot the flag at the other end of the arena, you were late getting in before the calf roping, and now you lose your hat? Why don't you just let the queen do the flag runs? You can head up to the announcer's booth.”

Tears of frustration burned behind her eyelids. “No, I'm fine,” she insisted.

Mike followed the direction of her gaze as she looked toward Clay again. “No, you aren't.” He laid a hand on her shoulder. “Go, take a break. Get some water or something. Have one of the boys take you to get your truck. Something.”

“I'm fine,” she repeated, hoping that saying it again would make it true.

“Jen, I hate to see you like this.” Mike had never tried to be her father, even after he'd accepted guardianship of Jen and her brothers. But even though he'd been more like their cool uncle, she could see the parental concern in his eyes.

“Then don't hire him back, Mike. You know he's going to bail on you again.”

Mike took a step backward. She could see her brutal honesty surprised him. “Jen, we need an experienced pickup man for Lancaster next weekend. I don't have time to find someone else, and we both know Derek isn't ready for something this serious.”

“Please, Mike,” she whispered, hating the weakness in her pleading. The longer Clay was around, the more danger to her heart.

“We don't have a choice unless we want to cancel next week's rodeo.” They both knew they couldn't do that. Rodeo committees planned all year for these events, booking stock contractors at least twelve months in advance. “It's only one week,” he promised.

Jen watched Mike walk away, hurrying back to the announcer's booth, and she wondered if he wasn't trying to escape. Without Silvie, their housekeeper and resident “mom” who had stayed behind to care for the ranch, Jen had no one who understood the emotional turmoil Clay caused in her. None of the men in her life were equipped to understand the confusing gamut of female emotions seeing him had woken. One minute she hated him, and the next she wanted to throw herself into his arms. She despised her weakness for wanting to be near him even as she loathed herself for pushing him away. How did you let go of the one person you wanted to hold onto the most?

She watched Clay working his event. He was majestic to watch on horseback. He looked like he was born to ride, moving with such fluidity that it could only be described as graceful, even if it wasn't a manly term. There was nothing feminine about him. Well over six feet of sheer muscle mass, he lifted bronc riders onto the backs of their horses like they were rag dolls. Yet, despite his size and brute strength, she knew from experience how gentle he could be. His touch had never been anything but tender, treating her like she was made of delicate porcelain. Except for the one part of her he chose to break.

She turned away from the gate and hurried to her trailer. She might as well start getting things packed up to head back to the ranch after the rodeo. Scott and Derek could stay and close up the deal with the rodeo committee. She was heading home tonight, even if it meant driving solo. She wasn't spending another night with Clay Graham on her couch if she could help it.

C
LAY LOCKED THE
door of the fifth-wheel as he came around from the front of the truck to where Mike was inspecting the back of the trailer. “Okay, the brake lights are fine. You're ready to go,” Mike informed him.

“Whose bright idea was this again?” The broad smile that spread over Mike's face left no answer necessary. Clay rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Jen's made it pretty clear she doesn't want anything to do with me at this point.”

Mike laughed at Clay. “You know Jen better than that by now. Give her a little time, and don't push.” He grew serious for a moment. “She never stopped loving you, you know, but you really messed up when you left. You need to tell her why you did it. Don't you think you owe her at least that?”

Clay caught the keys Mike tossed his way in midair. “No. No way.” He shook his head. “I'm not going to burden her with that.”

“They're your family, Clay. A part of you. She's not going to see it as a burden. If you would have just been honest in the first place, you'd never been in this position now.”

“I couldn't tell her then, and I'm not going to now, so let it go, Mike.”

“If you don't tell her the truth, you'll never get her back,” the older man warned.

“I didn't come here to get her back. I didn't even come here to get my old job back.”

“Then why the hell
did
you come, Clay?” Mike took a step forward, standing toe-to-toe with him. Mike might think of Clay as family, but right now he was protecting the woman he'd raised as his daughter. “If you hurt her again . . . ”

“I'm not trying to hurt her, Mike.” Clay stepped back, letting the tension dissipate. He didn't want to fight with Mike, but he was right. His presence was hurting Jen. He either needed to fix this situation or walk away and never look back. “I'll make this right. I'll tell her as much as I can.”

Mike shook his head in disbelief. “You can tell me or Scott, even Derek, but not her?”

“You guys won't try to fix the situation or fix me. You and Scott understand that this is something I had to deal with, that I'm
still
dealing with. You won't put yourselves into danger trying to help.”

“And I thought I was clueless when it came to women,” Mike muttered. “She's not trying to fix you; she's trying to share a life with you. That means the good and bad, in either of your lives. Including your past.”

J
EN STARED OUT
the window, irritated that the macho chauvinist had insisted on driving. It was bad enough he was coming back to the ranch at all, but did he have to drive her truck too? She would much rather have driven home with Derek. Hell, she would have even driven one of the stock trailers if it would have kept her from sitting in the passenger seat next to Clay. And what in the world possessed Clay to let Derek drive his horses and rig back to the ranch tomorrow? The entire thing smelled like a setup, and she didn't like it.

“So, whose idea was it for you to drive back to the ranch with me and leave your rig with Derek?”

“They wouldn't tell me when I asked the same question.” He glanced in her direction and grinned. “My money is on Mike.”

“Or Scott,” she suggested.

He pointed a finger at her in agreement. “You're probably right. Or they're in cahoots.”

She arched her brow. “Cahoots? What are you, eighty? Who even says that?”

Maybe if they could talk about other things, other people, anything other than themselves and their past, this next week wouldn't be a disaster, and the rest of this three-hour drive home would be bearable. Maybe if they could find some common ground of friendship, they could avoid the land mines their past relationship seemed to trigger.

Clay gave her a lopsided smile. “I've missed this. We used to joke around all the time.”

And there went any hope she held out for the next few hours. “Clay, don't,” she warned.

“Don't what? You know, you never let me explain.”

“Because you were kissing me, not explaining.”

She saw his gaze shift in her direction, settling briefly on her mouth before he turned back to the road. “You didn't seem to mind.”

“Don't mistake my apathy for enjoyment.” She was lying through her teeth and they both knew it, but she wasn't about to confess anything to him.

“Apathy, huh?” He glanced her way again, and she shifted nervously under his heated gaze. “So, if I were to—”