Taming of Jessi Rose Page 8

  Once she took a seat and settled her gown over her knees, she nodded and took the offered pot and a cup. She had a feeling he’d changed the subject purposefully. She didn’t much blame him; after all, prison couldn’t’ve been pleasant, but she did blame herself for making him dredge up such obviously garish memories.

  “Sleep well?” he asked.

  “Surprisingly, yes,” she offered, as she sipped her coffee and gave thanks for a man who could brew a decent pot.

  “Why surprisingly?”

  “It took me a long time to fall asleep.”

  This time his smile was filled with mischief. “Me too.”

  She could feel her attraction to him uncoiling. “Do you always leave women sleepless?”

  “It’s happened a time or two.”

  “You don’t believe in modesty, do you?”

  “Can’t be modest if you’re robbing trains.”

  “Or if you’re conquering women from the Mississippi to the Rio Grande.”

  He paused a minute and studied her face. “Does my reputation bother you?”

  His expression was serious. He wanted an honest answer. “I’m not certain. I do wonder if you’re just using me to pass the time until you move on.”

  “That’s honest.”

  “Yes, it is. It’s also the truth. As much as I enjoyed last night, I have a hard time, wondering whether you’re just trying for another notch on your bedpost.”

  He reached out and slowly traced his finger across the dark skin of her cheekbone. The tenderness of the gesture seemed to touch her soul. “You’ll never be just a notch…”

  Leaning over he touched his lips to hers and Jessi fed herself on his kiss, then eased back. “And how many women have you said that to?”

  He brushed his lips across her ear. “And meant it? Only one…you.”

  Jessi pulled back and searched his face.

  His gaze held amusement. “From that look I take it you don’t believe me.”

  “Honestly?”

  “Honestly.”

  “No, I don’t.”

  He grinned. “You’re hard on a man.”

  “I’m skeptical by nature.”

  He smiled and shook his head. “Women are supposed to be agreeable.”

  “You’ve had too many agreeable women in your life as it is, I’m thinking. A little disagreement is good.”

  “Is that why you made me wait three days to see you smile?”

  “I didn’t smile at you because I didn’t like you.”

  “You like me better now, I take it?”

  “You really don’t expect me to answer that—surely you don’t,” she replied with a laugh.

  “Why not?”

  “I’m not adding one more breath of air to your already exaggerated view of yourself.”

  “Exaggerated?” he asked playfully.

  “Exaggerated.”

  “Are you saying my kisses are exaggerated?”

  Jessi went still.

  “Well, Miss Skeptical, I’m waiting for your answer.”

  He had her and she knew it.

  She turned her head to hide her smile. He reached out and gently coaxed her chin back around so she would look into his eyes. She answered him truthfully and softly, “No, your kisses are fine.”

  He slowly teased his thumb across her parted mouth, and once again the intimacy of the gesture rattled her and made her eyes slide shut.

  “Are you sure…?”

  He was so close and his touch so vividly possessive, Jessi was having difficulty breathing, yet she managed to answer, “I’m sure…”

  “Well, just so you don’t forget later.”

  He kissed her so slowly and with such passion, she groaned softy in pleasurable response. Last night’s kisses had been chaste in comparison to this heated, overwhelming rendition. He languidly branded her, enticed her; he tempted her to savor what only he could give. When he finally turned her loose, she swore the world was spinning.

  From somewhere deep inside herself she managed to locate her will and slowly opened her eyes; his handsome satisfied-male smile was the very first thing she saw.

  “You’re much too good at this,” she baldly admitted.

  He chuckled softly. “Glad you think so. Now, finish your coffee and quit distracting me. or we’re going to miss the end of the sunrise.”

  Jessi grinned. In the early morning light his humor-filled eyes were as faceted as a mountain cat’s, and just like a cat he was toying with her, but in a way she thoroughly enjoyed. For the first time in a long time Jessi Rose Clayton did what she was told—she sat back and watched the sun and sipped at her now tepid coffee.

  The crest of the sun broke through the pink and gray horizon in a blaze of colors so brilliant they were impossible to describe.

  “That’s a beautiful sky,” he said, toasting the sight with his cup.

  “Yes, it is.”

  “If you could have three things in life, what would they be?” he asked her suddenly.

  Jessi found the question a bit surprising, but gave serious thought to her response. “Let’s see…I’d want this mess with Darcy settled, so Joth could enjoy the rest of his childhood. I’d get this roof fixed, so he and I don’t drown every time it rains. And I’d go back to teaching.”

  He turned to her. “That’s all you’d want for yourself?”

  “Yes,” she admitted truthfully. “My needs are small. What about you, what would you wish for?”

  “I’m not sure, but a different life, I think.”

  “What kind of a different life?”

  “One where I wouldn’t have to be looking over my shoulder all the time.”

  She studied him for a moment. “A life on the right side of the law?”

  He shrugged. “Maybe.” He then added, “I can’t see myself as a farmer, though.”

  “Neither can I,” she concurred.

  “As a rancher, maybe.”

  Suddenly Joth’s head popped through the opening in the roof. “What are you two doing up here?”

  Jessi answered smiling, “Watching the sun come up. Good morning.”

  “Morning, Aunt Jessi. Morning, Griff.”

  “Morning, cowboy.”

  “Are you ready for breakfast?” she asked.

  “Yep.”

  “I’ll be right down.”

  He nodded and disappeared back down the hole.

  Jessi realized she’d wanted to hear more about the change Blake wanted in his life, but the moment was lost.

  As she got to her feet, he asked, “What do you need done around here today?”

  “You’re offering to work?”

  He grinned. “I’m not as lazy as you might assume.”

  “You could’ve fooled me,” she cracked teasingly.

  “Be nice, or you won’t get any more of my exaggerated kisses.”

  Jessi rolled her eyes. “The corral needs work.”

  “This roof could use some attention, too.”

  “I know, but we need more wood than I have on hand, and Darcy owns the only lumber mill around.”

  “We’ll just have to work around him.”

  “I doubt he’ll be very accommodating after your run-in with him yesterday.”

  “Probably not, but we can figure out something. In the meantime…thanks for watching the sunrise with me.”

  “My pleasure.”

  Jessi, Joth, and Griffin spent the early part of the day replacing some of the old posts and cross ties of the corral. Under Jessi’s supervision, Joth used a rope tied to Buttercup’s saddle to help free the rotten, weathered posts from their holes.

  Griff was impressed at how well trained the little palomino pony was and how much affection Joth showed it as horse and rider worked in tandem. The pony stopped and held when Joth asked it to and pulled when Joth said to pull. Once the old wood was freed, Joth and Buttercup dragged it off to the barn.

  As Joth and his pony made yet another trip to the barn, Jessi said with all seri
ousness. “If anything ever happens to that horse, it would probably kill him. I think he loves Buttercup more than anything.”

  “Except his Aunt Jessi.”

  Jessi turned to face him.

  “Told me so himself. I told him it takes a very special woman to make a cowboy love her more than his horse.”

  “And you would know.”

  “Not really, I’ve never been in love. Lust, yes; love, no.”

  Griff wondered what she would say if he told her that last night, after he’d finally fallen asleep, he’d dreamt about them making wild and passionate love. The dream had been so vivid he’d wakened this morning as hard and as ready as though the dream were real. Looking over at her now, all he could think about were the dream-based memories of her riding sensuously astride him and how beautifully her breasts had filled his hands.

  Jessi had never known a man whose eyes could make her feel as if her clothes were going to melt from her body, but that’s exactly how she felt at this moment. “Is there something wrong?”

  “No, not really. Just thinking back on the dream I had about you last night. Pretty good dream, too, if you want to know the truth.”

  Thinking this was just another form of his flirting, Jessi replied with a raised eyebrow, “How many women have you roped with that old lariat?”

  Griff’s mustache lifted with his smile. “You don’t believe me?”

  “Remember my skeptical nature? I’m not a naive ingenue.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re a woman, there’s a difference.”

  “And that difference is age.”

  “You’re putting up barriers again, Jessi Clayton. You’re not that much older.”

  “I know, but for you, I’ll need all the barriers I can find.”

  He grinned and picked up another post.

  As the work continued, Jessi couldn’t help but wonder if he’d been telling her the truth about the dream. What had it been about? He’d said it had been a good dream. Had he dreamt about kissing her? Although neither of them made mention of this morning’s rooftop interlude, the sweet memories lingered within Jessi, as did her desire to be kissed by him again.

  Jessi hadn’t cut all of the new posts the same size. Because of the inadvertent mistake, some of the new posts wouldn’t fit into the old holes, so new ones had to be dug. The digging turned out to be the hardest work yet. Due to the lack of rain, the ground was as hard as rock.

  “Where’d you get the wood for the posts?” Griff asked, as he stopped digging a moment to catch his breath.

  “Joth and I cut down a few dead trees last fall. We used some of the wood for heat this winter. I figured what was left would come in handy for repairing the corral.”

  And she’d been right. She had just enough extra to replace most of the rotting wood, the rest of the corral fence repairs would have to wait until another time.

  As early afternoon rolled in, Jessi left the men working while she went in to fix them all some lunch. She made sandwiches using the meat from the last ham in the cellar stores and some bread. It wasn’t fancy fare, but they wouldn’t go hungry.

  As she went to the front door to call Joth and Blake inside, she paused at the screen door to watch them. They were stacking the last of the old wood. She couldn’t hear their conversation, but she could see Joth smiling and talking and acting like the open, friendly young boy she’d always loved. He hadn’t had much to smile about lately through no fault of his own, yet Blake seemed able to make that part of Joth come alive again and Joth seemed relaxed in his presence. Blake for his part did not act annoyed by the boy’s attention and Jessi blessed him for that. She still didn’t know if his being here would be of any value to the ranch, but so far, Joth looked to be benefiting, and that was more than enough for her now. She knew she would be remiss if she didn’t keep an eye on Blake, however; he was, after all, an outlaw, and kisses or no kisses, badge or no badge, trying to make a house cat out of a mountain lion was much easier said than done.

  As Jessi stepped out onto the porch, the sight of Sheriff Hatcher riding up made her stop. Her father and the Vale sheriff had been lifelong friends until Reed Darcy came between them. She wondered how the lawman slept at night, knowing he hadn’t lifted a finger to find the ones responsible for the cowardly murder of his friends.

  As Hatcher dismounted and tied his horse to the post in front of the porch, Jessi could see Griff and Joth put down their shovels to come and see what was going on.

  “Afternoon, Jessi.”

  She didn’t offer him any pleasantries. Even though he’d been dearly loved his whole life, he didn’t deserve any. “What can I do for you, Sheriff?”

  His jaw tightened at her unfriendly stance. “Came to see somebody named Blake. Heard he works for you?”

  Jessi eyed Griff a moment, then turned her attention to her nephew. “Joth, your lunch is on the table. Go get washed up. I’ll be in to join you shortly.”

  The boy gave the sheriff a wary look, then said, “Yes, Aunt Jessi.”

  Silence reigned until Joth disappeared around the side of the house.

  Griff stepped up. “I’m Blake. How can I help, sheriff?”

  Hatcher looked Griffin up and down. He didn’t appear to care for what he was seeing. “You can stay the hell away from Reed Darcy to start.”

  Griffin could only assume Darcy had run back and tattled after their meeting the other day, but out of a sense of fairness, he vowed to listen to the sheriff anyway. “Explain.”

  “If I ever hear of you pulling a gun on him again, you’ll go straight to jail.”

  “And what will Darcy get for drawing on me?”

  “Mr. Darcy doesn’t have the time to waste drawing on somebody like you.”

  “No? Well, he drew first, but he probably left that part out.”

  Hatcher seemed caught off guard for a moment, but it didn’t take him long to recover. “Whatever happened, Darcy is not somebody you want to fool with.”

  “And neither am I,” Griff pointed out firmly. “He was rustling, Sheriff. I was protecting ranch property.”

  “You keep getting in Darcy’s way and you’re going to need protecting.”

  “You think so?”

  “I know so.”

  Griff began making a show of searching his pockets. “A friend of mine gave me a magic amulet a few weeks ago. He thought I should wear it to keep me safe. What did I do with it?”

  Still patting the pockets of his pants and shirt Griffin looked up to Jessi standing on the porch and asked. “Miss Clayton, do you know what I did with that amulet?”

  With a completely straight face, Jessi replied, “No, Mr. Blake, I don’t. Maybe you should check your pockets again.”

  “Good idea.”

  Checking the pocket of his shirt again, Griff paused and then smiled. “Here it is.”

  When he withdrew the marshal star and held it up for Hatcher to see, Griff drawled coolly, “Do you think this will protect me?”

  Hatcher went stock still. “Where’d you get that?”

  “Friend of mine.”

  Griffin pinned the star to his pocket. “How’s that look?”

  Since Hatcher still seemed to be having problems with his speech, Griffin turned to Jessi. “How’s that look, Miss Clayton. Too flashy?”

  “Some might think so, but I find it very stunning, Mr. Blake.”

  They shared a grin.

  The sheriff didn’t appear amused by their antics. “Who sent you here?”

  “Deputy Marshal Dixon Wildhorse.”

  “Never heard of him.”

  “Probably not, but I’ll bet you’ve heard of his boss, Hanging Judge Issac Parker, up at Fort Smith?”

  Hatcher began to cough violently.

  “I think he does,” Griffin told Jessi.

  “I’m guessing that, too,” she said, amused. Jessi hadn’t had this much fun in quite some time.

  When Hatcher finally recovered from his fit of coughing, he barked, “I want to know e
verything, and I want to know it now, especially the parts about how you got out of that Kansas Penitentiary.”

  Griff had no intention of telling him any more than was necessary. “The judge pardoned me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because he wants Reed Darcy to have my bed there instead. Judge Parker’s had his eye on your friend for some time because the judge doesn’t take kindly to men burning out their neighbors or shooting folks in the back.”

  “I had nothing to do with any of that!” Hatcher snapped angrily.

  “Well, you’d better start having something to do with it, or your name’s going to be right next to Darcy’s on Judge Parker’s list. How’d you know about my parole?”

  “Darcy had me wire a few railroad friends of his up in Kansas to find out about you and they wired him back. They said you’d been paroled, but the warden couldn’t tell them anything else.”

  Griffin found the situation highly ironic. How many outlaws had lawmen like Wildhorse and Judge Parker guarding their backs? “Sheriff, you can either honor that badge you’re wearing and help me, or not. Either way, Darcy’s going to be stopped.”

  The sheriff looked Griff up and down once more, then said with a brittle smile. “You’re pretty damn sure of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “I’ve been told that a time or two.”

  “Well, Darcy ain’t no train you’re trying to rob, son. You’re on your own.”

  Griff’s jaw tightened. He’d hoped for the sheriff’s help. “I think you’re betting on the wrong horse, sheriff.”

  Hatcher turned to walk back to his mount. “Maybe, but I’ll be alive to find out, you won’t be.”

  “Even if it means you spend the rest of your life in prison?”

  The sheriff turned back and replied quietly, “I’m already in prison, son.”

  Hatcher got into the saddle, then looked over to Jessi, still standing on the porch. He told her, “Talk some sense into him, Jessi, before it’s too late.”

  He touched his hat and rode off.

  After the silence resettled, Jessi said. “I don’t think he has much faith in your abilities, Marshal Blake.”

  “I don’t think so, either.”

  After they finished lunch, they worked on the corral until the sun got too hot and they were forced to retire to the coolness of the house. Joth went to his room to work on his lessons. Jessi went to the kitchen to shell peas and start the bread for dinner. Griffin followed her in and as he walked behind her, feasted his eyes on the tempting sway of her lush denim-clad hips.