Making A Texas Cowboy (Home at Last Texas #1)

Chapter Twenty-Eight

J ackson regretted what he’d said the moment the words came out, not because he hadn’t meant them—because he certainly, breathlessly had—but because he was sure what he thought he’d seen in her had been wishful thinking. She hadn’t really looked at him like she’d wanted him to kiss her again.

She probably regretted the first time. She probably wished he’d just back off. Probably thought he expected her to crumple at his feet just because of who he was. He knew she’d thought that of him in the beginning. But now?

Could we maybe put that behind us?

Consider it in the rearview mirror.

Didn’t that sort of imply they were moving... ahead?

He gave a sharp shake of his head as he parked the car and went inside. The spacious, vaulted great room which had seemed welcoming before echoed a bit hollowly now. Amazing how much space one little boy could fill, both inside this building and inside his heart.

They needed that dog. Keller had promised to call as soon as his brother got home. Chance Rafferty and his wife were off to rescue yet another military K9 deemed unsalvageable. He’d looked up the website for They Also Serve and been impressed with both Chance and the mission.

Another Texas man stepping up.

He hung up his jacket, walked over to the kitchen, and tossed his keys on the counter. That put him standing in front of the upper cabinet, where, when they’d moved in and he’d been checking to see if the necessary utensils for what home cooking he did—he’d learned a bit since Leah had died and he’d had to—were there, and he’d found an unopened bottle of tequila.

He pulled it out now, contemplating. Wondered, as he did now and then, if those weeks of losing himself in booze meant he could never have a drink again. He studied the label. Outlaw Tequila , read the label. And he remembered driving by a location with a sign saying just that on their way to the saloon. Directly behind the saloon, in fact. Convenient, considering the amount he’d seen Slater Highwater pouring tonight.

At least it’s not mescal.

Then again, that might be better, because he wouldn’t be thinking about drinking it, not with the worm. Which was really the larva of some bug or other. Which, in turn, did not make it any more appealing.

He grimaced, remembering again that video Tris had shot of him, drunk on his ass with his then barely five-year-old son trying to take care of him. He put the bottle back in the cupboard. Maybe when Jeremy turned eighteen...

He was trying to picture that when the quiet tap came on the door, and so his first thought was the boy had awakened in a strange room and had wanted to come home. Funny how he’d never had any problem here, in the loft. He’d loved this place since he’d first set foot through the door, and Jackson had to admit he had the same feeling.

He pulled open the door, expecting his son. Instead, he saw Nic, looking up at him with those gray-blue eyes, which seemed bright even in the faint glow of the light from inside flowing out onto the porch. The jacket she wore hung off one shoulder, as if she’d yanked it on in a hurry. She was breathing rather quickly, and he told himself it was because she’d just hiked that half mile here. The logical part of his brain that knew what kind of shape she was in laughed at that.

He felt as if he’d taken a step into a minefield where anything he said could blow this up, so he said nothing. He just stared down at her, the air around them suddenly so charged, his skin started to tingle.

“I’d already made up my mind,” she said, her voice low and husky, and the tingle became a shiver of anticipation. “I just had to give my heart a pep talk. It wasn’t sure it was ready.”

“Neither was mine, but it got outvoted.”

He heard her short little intake of breath before she said, “Then we have a decision?”

“And all night to enact it,” he said gruffly. Then, with a grimace, he said, “I’m not exactly... prepared for this. Protection wise, I mean.”

“I am,” she said, and he hoped the look she gave him meant it counted as a point in his favor that he’d been the one to bring it up. She reached into her jacket pocket and pulled out a box of condoms. At his look she grimaced slightly. “Mom. Her subtle way of suggesting I need to get out more.”

“And here you are,” he said softly.

“Here I am.” She reached up and laid her palm flat on his chest, over his heart. “You’re... sure?”

He put his hand over hers. “I’m sure. For the first time in two years, I’m sure.”

She stared at him. “You can’t mean you haven’t . . . since she died . . .”

“Tried once. Disaster. Because it was for all the wrong reasons.” He took a steadying breath. He wasn’t quite sure why he was driven to go on, but he was. “I didn’t really... care. About her. I didn’t admire her. Respect her. Believe in her. Trust her.”

He saw her eyes start to glisten, even in the shadows. And knew she hadn’t missed the implication of what he’d said. That he did feel all those things about her. The question was, was that enough for her? Because he didn’t love her. That capacity still lay buried beneath a headstone back in L.A.

But want her?

Oh, yeah. For the first time since Leah’s death, he could answer that with a fervent yes and mean it. Already his body had awakened at the idea.

A different sort of awareness flickered through him, that sense of guilt he’d always felt at even thinking about being with another woman. But it was followed immediately by the memory of that dream. Or whatever it had been.

Let me go.

Then Tris’s advice, born out of awful, painful experience, rang in his head. You’ll always love her, bro. But you can’t be in love with her, because that takes two.

And he realized he had one more thing to do, before he took a step toward accepting what she was apparently offering. He owed her that much. He tried to think of some tactful way to say it, but in the end, it came out bluntly.

“I can’t love you. I don’t think I’ll ever really love again.”

Something flared for a split second in her eyes, but it vanished, replaced by that impish Nic smile he actually did love. “Revoking the invitation?”

“No,” he said hastily. “God, no. I just... wanted to be honest.”

“And that,” she said, moving her hand up to cup his cheek, “is all I ask.”

The rush of relief he felt, that she didn’t turn and walk away after what he’d said, surprised him. But from the moment she stepped inside, there was no room for anything except the fire she lit in him. She stretched up to kiss him, and it quickly blossomed into the hottest kiss he could ever have imagined. He wanted more, he wanted her closer, and he backed up to lean against the wall so he could slide down a little, to be level with that mouth of hers that was driving him utterly mad. She went with him eagerly, straddling him, and he had a sudden vision of her riding him, naked and hot, and he nearly lost it right then.

And after that kiss, he finally believed this was really going to happen, and he went a little mad. He wasn’t sure whose clothes he was tearing at half the time, and Nic met his every move with one of her own to accomplish the same. And he finally got his wish, to see that long, thick fall of silken hair loosed and free, flowing halfway down her back and brushing over his own skin in a way that made him shiver.

They went to the floor, still half-dressed, and after an awkward fumble with the condom box he didn’t even care about, he let loose the fierce attraction he’d apparently been bottling since he’d first laid eyes on her. She shifted to make it easier for him to slide into her, without ever stopping that string of long, deep kisses that had his heart ready to burst out of his chest, it was hammering so hard.

Her hot, slick flesh welcomed him, and he slid deep. He heard a gasp, a groan of pleasure, and he wasn’t even sure who it came from. And then she was moving, taking him deeper, and he barely managed to hang on until he heard her moan and her body clenched around him. He ground out an oath that was as much tribute to her as to the overpowering wave of sensation that swamped him as he poured himself into her.

And as they lay there, entangled, he had the strangest feeling more than just pent-up desire had been released between them.