Page 61 of Falling for the Cowgirl

What was she doing? She’d told herself she had to let Jericho go, stop allowing herself to hope there could be something between them.

She pressed a hand to her chest and tried to calm her erratically beating heart. Land sakes, that man could kiss. She’d thought she was proving something to him by initiating a kiss—proving how she was in control of herself and her feelings for him. But she’d been wrong. She’d only demonstrated just how much control he had over her. Her kiss had been timid compared to the consuming nature of his.

He stood a dozen feet away, his back rigid. He’d made it clear enough both with his words and his actions that he cared about her. So what was the matter?

She needed to reassure him whatever was wrong didn’t have to come between them, that they could work throughanything. Because that’s what she wanted ... to be with him. That’s all she’d ever really wanted.

But how could she convince him?

He blew out a taut breath and kneaded his neck.

She pushed up, a quiet desperation slithering through her. If she didn’t say or do something, he was gonna drive a wedge between them again. She could sense it, just like she could sense when the weather was about to change.

She crossed and stood behind him. For a second, she waited for him to acknowledge her. But he stared straight ahead at the roughly hewn wall.

Fine. She’d have to make him turn somehow. Taking matters into her own hands wasn’t something she was afraid of doing. She’d done it aplenty in her life. But this time, the stakes were higher than ever. If she couldn’t get through to him, she was gonna lose him. And in doing so, she might lose herself.

She laid a hand on his back.

He didn’t move.

She wasn’t sure if that was a good sign or bad. Whatever the case, she grazed her fingers up his spine. When he still didn’t protest, she took more courage and slid her arms around his waist. She leaned into him, hugging him from behind and resting her cheek against his coat.

His body was hard, unyielding. Just like his spirit. Most of the time, she loved that he was so determined. But this was one occasion she wished he wasn’t strong-willed.

She started to pull back, but in the next instant, he folded his hands across hers, then his arms, pinning her in place.

“I should say I’m sorry.” His whisper was harsh.

“Don’t.”

“I won’t.”

“Good.”

His fingers circled hers. “You’re a beautiful woman.” He hesitated half a heartbeat, enough to know he had a heap more to say.

“But ...”

“But I’m no good for you.”

She tightened her hold. “I reckon I can be the judge of that.”

“If you knew the truth, you’d agree.”

“Try me.”

“I can’t tell you. It’s better for your safety that way.”

“Why? Are you an undercover agent or somethin’ like that?”

When he didn’t answer, she stilled. She’d only been jesting, but apparently she’d hit close to the truth.

She pressed on, trying to piece together all the clues she’d gleaned about him since his return. “You’re not a police officer like Dylan. But you’re working for the law in a different capacity.”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Are you here in Colorado looking for a criminal?”