Page 26 of Cowboy’s Last Stand (His to Protect #1)

His father fell silent for a moment. “You can always come home.”

Jason raked a hand through his hair. “I was just there, Dad. I was there for over a year.”

“You were at the rehab clinic in Missoula for most of it.”

“I spent a month at the ranch.”

“There’s work for you here. Just say the word.”

Jason didn’t answer because they’d already been over this. If he returned to Montana, it wouldn’t be for an indoor job.

“I know you’d rather run cattle than keep books, and I’d put you on the team if I could, but your health is too important to risk another head injury. The doctors have been clear. Your years of hard riding are over, son.”

“Would you quit riding after one injury?”

“That’s different.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m old,” his father said, his voice raised with ire. “You’re not. You’ve got your whole life ahead of you.”

Jason bit back an angry retort. They wouldn’t talk about the fact that his mother had died in a riding accident. They never talked about her.

“Think on it,” his father said and changed the subject. “Anna wanted me to invite you to Thanksgiving. She’s having a big to-do. It would mean a lot to her if you came.”

Jason didn’t want to be in a house full of Anna’s relatives. They were strangers to him.

“I’m aware that it’s not the most comfortable situation for you, and I respect your mother’s memory—”

“You don’t respect her memory,” Jason said flatly.

“That’s not fair.”

“You got rid of everything she owned. Every keepsake, every photo.”

“I put all of her stuff in the attic. It’s not gone.”

Jason swallowed his surprise. He hadn’t known this because he’d never asked. “You should have told me.”

His father didn’t disagree, for once. “It was hard for me to talk about. I couldn’t look at her things without…”

“Feeling sad?” Jason ventured.

Jeff grunted an acknowledgment. It was the closest he’d ever come to sharing his grief over the death of Jason’s mother. Jason couldn’t appreciate the sentiment, though his father sounded sincere. It was too little, too late. Jason was too raw with other emotions.

“I’m not coming home for Thanksgiving,” Jason said.

“What about Christmas?”

The plaintive tone broke through Jason’s defenses. “Yeah. OK.”

“Good. Good. I’ll tell Anna.”

“Tell her I appreciate the invite.”

“I will.”

“I’ll call you in a few weeks, Dad.”

“All right, son.”

That was as mushy as they got. No declarations of love or affection were expressed. Still, Jason hung up with tears in his eyes.

“What are you doing?”

Jason turned to see Natalie standing at the front of the garage. She was wearing her yellow chenille robe, her hair in a fluffy disarray. She held the slingshot in one hand. Her brow was furrowed with concern.

Uh-oh.

Jason showed her the phone. “I was talking to my dad.”

Her expression softened. “Bad news?”

“No. We just suck at communicating.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Did Mike say I love you? To you and Marcus?”

She nodded. “Every day.”

Jason’s eyes watered again. Why had he asked that? Clearing his throat, he changed the subject before he embarrassed himself further. “Let me guess. Marcus used that slingshot in the house.”

“Yes.”

“That’s my fault. I should have told him it was for outdoors only.”

“Live and learn,” she said.

He huffed out a laugh. “Is something broken?”

“Just the TV.”

His stomach sank. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“I’m kidding,” she said, passing him the slingshot. She smacked it into his open hand. “I heard him spill a bucket of marbles across the floor in his room, and I caught him before he could destroy the entire house. It was a close call.”

He frowned at the slingshot. “What should I do with it?”

“Keep it in here somewhere. He can play with it outdoors, under supervision.”

“You want me to be in charge of that?”

She shrugged. “You bought it.”

Jason put the slingshot on a top shelf. He stayed with his back to her because he felt vulnerable and foolish. Last night, he’d trembled like a baby in her arms, but he hadn’t cried. When he needed release, the tears wouldn’t come.

She came up behind him and slipped her arms around his waist. Her cheek rested against his shoulder, her palm over his beating heart. Her touch was a balm to his soul. “Don’t feel bad. It’s not your job to supervise him.”

“Loading him up with weapons isn’t very helpful.”

“Taking him to breakfast is. Thanks for the muffin, by the way.”

He covered her hands with his, noting how slender they were. Her touch stirred more than emotions in him. He remembered the feel of those hands on his bare chest, skimming his muscles as she moaned into his mouth.

He wanted her so much, and he shouldn’t have her.

He needed to go before it became impossible for him to leave.

His mind rebelled at the thought of walking away from her, but what was the alternative?

He couldn’t tell her the truth about why he’d come here.

He couldn’t tell her about the letters he’d read and the letters he’d written.

He couldn’t tell her any of the things he needed to say to put the past behind them.

Removing her hand from his chest, he kissed the center of her palm.

She made a sound of pleasure and pulled away. “I’m taking Marcus to visit my grandmother today.”

He turned to face her. “All right.”

“I thought we could do something together tomorrow. Something restful .”

His lips quirked at the caveat. “What did you have in mind?”

“How about a hike?”

“You want to hike?” he asked, surprised.

“A short hike. More of a stroll, actually. There’s a wilderness preserve nearby. We could have a picnic.”

He stared at her for several seconds because she was so beautiful in her soft robe, with sunlight in her hair.

A picnic with her sounded unbelievably perfect.

It was far better than he deserved. He knew he would pay a price for every minute he lingered here under false pretenses, but he still didn’t have the strength to say no. He couldn’t deny her anything.

“All right,” he said again, his voice hoarse.

She gave him a closer study. “How did you sleep?”

He shrugged, touching his sore neck.

“You look tired. Sit down, and I’ll give you a massage.”

He wasn’t going to say no to that, either.

She led him back to the porch and sat on the top step, gesturing for him to join her.

He sat on the second step with his back to her, and his legs stretched out.

She hiked up her robe to accommodate him.

He settled between her knees and surrendered to her ministrations. It was like coming home.

She kneaded his tight muscles with gentle fingers.

Her thumbs stroked a pathway from the base of his skull to mid-shoulder.

Everything she did felt so good. He groaned in a combination of ecstasy and agony.

She identified places he didn’t know were sore and released the tension like a thread unraveling.

After a few minutes, his sore neck became a distant memory, and a new ache started.

His body had melted into a puddle in her lap, her slender thighs cradling him.

Sunlight warmed the fly of his jeans, and blood pooled to his groin.

He guessed she was wearing panties, but his mind discarded them.

He fantasized about her bare skin, with no barriers between them.

He imagined turning and burying his face between her legs.

Predictably, he became aroused.

Her hands continued to work their magic. He tried to think of something besides oral sex, but he couldn’t. He was lost to the idea of tasting her. His cock throbbed like a sore thumb, jutting against the denim.

Making a strangled sound, he reached up to still her hand on his neck. “Thank you. It’s much better now.”

“You’re welcome.”

He released her hand and stared at the inside of her knee.

He wanted to nuzzle her silky thigh and kiss his way upward.

When he glanced over his shoulder at her, she was staring at his erection.

The length was clearly visible. Jason should have made an attempt to hide his arousal, but he didn’t. He let her look.

“Sorry,” she said abruptly.

He turned forward again. “For what?”

“I solved one problem and caused another.”

“This problem will go away in a minute.”

She disentangled herself from him and rose from the step, adjusting the front of her robe. He didn’t get a glimpse of any lingerie or any female parts. His gaze rose to her face and searched her topaz eyes.

He was in love with her.

His heart lodged in his throat at the realization.

Somewhere between trying to confess his sins last night and adding new sins to the list this morning, he’d fallen in love with her.

He had no idea how to process the emotion.

It dawned on him that he was even more stunted than his father in terms of expressing his feelings.

Jason resented his father for putting a mirror up to his face, reflecting their shared flaws.

The realization added to the discomfort of his arousal.

He felt raw and exposed in a way he didn’t like.

She studied him curiously, as if she could see the tumult on his face, and expected him to explain it.

When he didn’t speak, she inclined her head and slipped back inside, giving him the space he needed.

He sat forward with his elbows on his knees and contemplated his predicament.

How could he tell her who he really was and why he’d come to Texas without hurting her?

It was too little, too late all over again.

He’d ruined his chances to be with her, and now he was trapped in a disaster of his own making.

There was no way out. Every possible move ended in doom.

Every option caused them both more pain.

After a long deliberation, he rose from the step and went to the garage. He might as well fix something before he self-destructed.