Takin' The Reins (22 page)

Mustering all that charm and humor she kept telling him he had, Wyatt said, “I’ll give you a call later. Maybe we can finish what we started at my place.” He twisted a piece of her hair around his finger and lifted an eyebrow.

“Maybe.” Her shoulders lifted in a shrug, but there was no more reassurance.

He coughed to clear the emotion in his throat. Dammit! He wanted to assure her that sleeping with him today wouldn’t have been a one-night stand. Maybe that’s what she was thinking. After all, they hadn’t known each other that long. She had no idea he’d never felt this way about another woman before. He wanted to tell her he was falling in love. The words hovered on the tip of his tongue, but the strange look on her face caused him to stop short.

“All right then,” he said. “See you later.”

She closed the door without offering a kiss goodbye. What had he done? He strode to his truck with his heart twisting like a kite in the wind.

~ * ~

Later that night, Jordan pounded her fist into the sofa cushion. She’d been fuming all afternoon, upset with herself. She’d practically put the shooting incident in Bent out of her mind because she was so concerned with the way Wyatt perceived her now. Why had she acted like a child? She was a grown woman, for heaven’s sakes, yet she’d behaved like a little girl today. She was falling for the man and had wanted to make love with him. So why hadn’t she jumped at his offer when he’d said they’d still have an hour before he had to take care of the mare? The reason was obvious. Since Drew, she colored every man with the stain of betrayal. But it wasn’t fair to judge Wyatt. He wasn’t Drew. Something hinted he’d never hurt her.

“Arrgh!” She screamed at the top of her lungs to release her frustration and then vowed never to make that mistake with him again. If she ever got the chance, she’d prove she was willing to take another chance on love.

Stretching out on the sofa, she hadn’t realized how tired she was until she started to fall asleep. When the phone jangled, her eyes flew open. She jumped up and dove for it. When Wyatt’s sexy drawl greeted her, she swallowed past the tightness in her throat, and she felt happy tears prick her eyes.

“How ya feeling?” he asked.

She blurted, “Brannigan, I want to apologize for the stupid way I acted today.”

He didn’t let her say more. “No need, honey. It was a crazy day. Our rendezvous just wasn’t meant to happen this afternoon.” She could tell by the tone of his voice that he wasn’t upset. That was one of the qualities she liked about him—his easygoing nature. She pictured his tall, lean frame and his sparkling eyes, and remembered how perfectly their lips had molded to each other. The memory sent a jolt of desire racing through her.

“Would you like to come over, Brannigan?”

Dead air met her question. She thought he’d jump at the offer, but perhaps he was playing hard to get. Or he was hurt from her rejection. Before he could answer, she yawned into the phone, and he chuckled.

“I’ll take a rain check, Jordan. I think you need your rest tonight. We both do.”

Disappointed, there was nothing for her to do but play it cool. “You’re probably right. It was a long day.” But she didn’t want to get off the phone yet. “How did the insemination go?”

“As good as can be expected. Now I have to wait to find out if it took.” There was another long silence.

“Are you still there, Brannigan?”

“Yep. Jordan, I have a question for you. I’ve been thinking about it off and on since we met.”

She braced herself. “What is it?”

“Why won’t you call me by my first name?”

The question surprised her. For some reason, she’d decided to call him by his last name the day they met. The name was strong and sexy, like him. It fit him. “You’re Brannigan. My neighbor. My friend. My…”

“Lover?”

The word conjured all kinds of wanton images. He had no problem being direct. But that was one of his attractive qualities.

“If we’re going to be lovers,” he continued, “and it seems that’s where we’re headed, then maybe you can start calling me Wyatt.”

She sighed light-heartedly. “Do I have to?”

He laughed, and she could picture him shaking his head.

“Jordan, you take my breath away.”

Oh, he was so good for her. She smiled, and a hand fluttered at her heart.

“Is your door locked?” he asked, changing the subject.

“Yes.”

“And the windows?”

“I double-checked them all.”

“Good girl. I wouldn’t put it past Stillwell to pull another stunt, sooner rather than later. Maybe I
should
come get you after all. You’ll be much safer next to me in my bed.”

“You had your chance and blew it, cowboy. I’ll be fine here.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes.” The joking dissolved from her voice. “When we make love for the first time, I want everything to be perfect. Not a response to fear or loneliness, for either of us.”

He seemed pleased with that comeback. “Okay. But perfection comes with practice, you know.”

She couldn’t help but laugh. “Your honesty is so refreshing.”

“I’m glad you think so, because honesty is my policy. Good night, sweetheart. I’ll call you in the morning.”

“Good night.” She placed the receiver into its cradle softly. Sweetheart. What an old- fashioned word that was. Coming from his mouth, it was so endearing. He never ceased to amaze her. She’d discovered Wyatt’s two sides—tough cowboy and passionate romantic—and she’d fallen hard for them both.

Chapter Seventeen

A horrific storm woke Jordan in the middle of the night. Thunder rolled across the sky in booming waves, crashing and shaking the little adobe’s walls. Following the thunder were lightning bolts that flashed across the window. The zigzags lit the night sky like a zillion light bulbs going off at once.

A screeching lightning strike jolted her. It sounded like it had hit the barn or something near the house. She scrambled off the bed and fumbled to switch on a light. The power was out! She felt her body with her hands and realized she was wearing jeans and a tee shirt. She remembered hauling herself to bed after talking to Wyatt, but she must have fallen asleep in her clothes.

Running into the kitchen, she screamed when another boom shook the earth. Rain slashed at the windows. The casings rattled. Through the wild noise, she could hear the horses whinnying outdoors. Her foggy mind raced. Were they still in the field? Had she fallen asleep before bringing them into the barn? If so, they must be scared to death. She’d never forgive herself if they were struck by lightning.

She frantically searched through the kitchen drawers for a flashlight. When she finally found one, she switched it on. Thank God it worked. Running back to the bedroom, she aimed the beam into the closet and yanked a summer rain jacket off its hanger and stuck her feet into her cowboy boots. She had to get the horses and Houdini out of the field and into the safety of the barn.

Flinging open the front door, she was met with fierce wind and rain that pelted her face and hands. She sprinted toward the barn. Rounding the corner, she thought for a split second that she was dreaming or seeing a mirage. A truck with a horse trailer hitched to it was backed up to the barn. Was it Wyatt’s truck? She couldn’t tell. Rain battered her eyes. Through the howling wind, Jordan heard the distinguishable bleats of Houdini’s cries, but she couldn’t tell from which direction they came. Wasn’t he with the horses? Could he have escaped again and was calling out from somewhere other than the pasture?

Her gaze latched onto the truck once more. The scene was surreal. Her feet felt weighted with lead as she watched a man slam the trailer gate closed. When lightning flashed again, he turned and she caught a glimpse of the unshaven face of Cimarron Cruz. Rain splashed off the brim of his worn hat. He’d seen her! His lip curled into an evil grin.

“Hey, Joe!” she heard him holler. “She’s out here!”

The driver jumped out of the truck and Cruz began plodding toward her. Jordan knew this wasn’t a mirage, and she was in big trouble. Were they going to attack her? Kidnap her? Alone and helpless with only a flashlight as a weapon, she spun on her boot heel and ran for her life. Her chest heaved as she slipped and slid over the ground that was quickly turning to mud. Fear gripped her—fear that at any moment she’d feel Cruz’s icy hand on her neck. She glanced over her shoulder to see if the two men were upon her. Tripping over her own feet, she fell flat into the mud and struggled to get up as the rain beat down, soaking her to the skin.

“She fell! I’ll get her, Joe!” Cruz yelled.

Jordan had to get to the house. She couldn’t let them catch her. With a burst of adrenaline, she pushed herself out of the muck.

“Shit!” She heard Cruz’s curse, craned her head, and saw he’d fallen and was mired in mud. She ran like the devil to the apple tree. When she turned again, she heard Campbell yell, “Leave her! Let’s get outta here!”

Huddled under the tree, she saw Cruz wrestle his way out of the mud and jog back to the truck. Wiping the rain from her eyes, she watched—as if she were in a dream—as he jumped into the passenger side of the truck and its wheels began to churn. The cry of a horse in the back of the trailer captured her attention. She also heard bleating coming from the barn. Another lightning strike reminded her she was under a tree—not a good place to be standing in a storm.

Filthy, wet and scared, she ran to the corner of the barn and peeked around. When the truck tires caught and the pickup finally started slogging away, she spied Buttercup’s white tail flipping up and down inside the trailer. She slapped a hand across her mouth to squelch a scream. The pickup turned and grinded its way over unfenced land that led into the desert. Although she thought it strange that it didn’t travel down her driveway, there wasn’t any time to contemplate further. They had Buttercup, and Houdini was somewhere crying for help. When the taillights grew dim and she was sure they weren’t coming back, Jordan dashed into the barn and found Houdini lying on his side, hogtied on the ground.

“Maaaaa. Maaaaa,” he bawled. Tears of panic washed over her and stung her eyes as she tried, but failed, to loosen the tight knots binding his feet. Racing into the tack room, she searched for a sharp tool—anything that would cut well. Locating a rusty pocketknife, she rushed back to the goat and sawed at the ropes until they broke. When she helped him stand, Houdini thanked her by rubbing his horns against her hip. Before she could stop him, he made a mad dash out the barn door, sniffing with his nose to the ground like a hound dog. Apparently catching the mare’s scent, he tore off into the desert.

“Maaaaa! Maaaaa!”

“Houdini! Come back here!” Jordan’s fingers flew into her jacket pockets. She felt around in them, thinking her car keys would be there. But why would they be? She hadn’t had an occasion to wear a rain jacket until now. She considered running back to the house to get the keys, but there was no time. She’d lose the goat in the storm if she didn’t follow him right then. Jordan began the chase.

It was dark. Houdini was black. She couldn’t see him so she called out his name, but her voice got lost on the wind. Because of the heavy downpour, the ground was sketchy, and rocks washed to the surface. Stumbling more than once, she knew she had to be careful or she’d end up twisting an ankle, or worse. She also had to be careful of the scrub brush and thorny cactus that populated the landscape.

She ran as fast and as far as she could in the clunky cowboy boots until she was panting and out of breath. Shining a wide arc across the ground with her flashlight, Jordan saw two sets of tire tracks. Confusion momentarily set in. Which of the tracks belonged to the truck that carried Buttercup? Which way did they go? The desert looked different at night, particularly in a raging storm. She knew the main road paralleled her ranch, but she didn’t know how far away that road was. Turning in circles, she’d lost her sense of direction and was off kilter. She couldn’t figure out how the truck had disappeared so fast, or to where it had disappeared.

“Houdini!” Though she had visually lost sight of the goat, she could still hear his bleats. Her good sense told her it was irrational to be running after a goat in a dangerous thunderstorm, but another side of her told her to keep moving. The rascal was ornery, but she didn’t know if he was strong enough to survive the harsh elements. She had to catch him and take him home, or he could die. She trudged along, battling against the wind and rain and prickly cactus until she thought her heart was going to explode.

“Houdini! Where are you?” she cried over and over. Bending, she braced her hands on her knees and tried to catch her breath. Soaked to the skin and freezing cold, she wrapped her arms around herself, shaking and shivering as cold rain poured down her face. She jumped and screamed each time thunder crashed or lightning slashed the sky. At least Buttercup was warm and safe in the trailer, she kept thinking. But Houdini was a small animal with no protection but his short hair. She had to find him. Jordan moved on, not knowing in which direction to turn or from which direction she’d come. The desert stretched for miles. Feeling completely lost and disoriented, she began to weep.

“Houdini!” she called again.

If he returned her calls, she couldn’t hear him from the howling of the wind. She pushed wet strands of hair from her face and searched the area for a landmark; anything she might recognize. Her feet were numb with cold. Looking up, the sky was a canvas of black, as thick as oil, except where lightning flashed.

When a bolt struck a tree and cracked it in half, she shrieked and then dumbly watched it catch fire.
Please, God
, she prayed.
I don’t know which way to turn, or where to go.
She walked for what seemed like hours in her disoriented state. Her boots sloshed with water and her ungloved fingers felt like sticks of ice that would break if she bent them. A sense of overwhelming isolation flooded her. Letting her tears flow, they mixed with the harsh rain and froze on her cheeks, as she stood rooted to the hard ground. Along with having lost all hope of finding Houdini, she realized she could not find her way home. Confused, tired and her body feeling like petrified wood, she had the urge to lie down and curl up in a ball. Then like a miracle, the wind retreated and Jordan thought she heard a weak cry.