Now here they were, four years later, sitting in his truck, the rain creating a magic curtain around them, making it seem as if they were in a world of their own.
Memories assaulted her right and left. Her hands shook. She crossed her arms.
“Cold?” he asked.
She shook her head. “There’s just so much going on in my head, snapshots like they sometimes show on TV, images flashing so quickly you can hardly keep up with them.”
“Good or bad?”
“Mostly good. Some painful.” She touched her fingers to her lips as if he’d just kissed her.
“I know....” He cupped her face with his hand. He didn’t ask permission—maybe he could already see she was willing. He pulled her closer. She expected a gentle kiss, one of remembrance, maybe even a kind of friendship they might have after all this time.
But he groaned as he kissed her, not wasting time with finesse but devouring her, arousing her, reawakening and rekindling what had been. His lips were familiar...yet not. His large, rough, trembling hands roamed over her, unbuttoning her blouse and pants. He maneuvered, shifted and angled their bodies until they were both undressed and in the passenger seat, Jenny on top. She lowered herself onto him.
There was homecoming and welcome, and newness, too. She remembered everything about him—and nothing.
Finally she was draped over him, both of them struggling to breathe, and the rain stopped as quickly as it started. The windows were steamed up from their breath and body heat, but the shield of rain was gone.
She sat up and studied his face. What are you thinking? she wanted to ask, knowing she didn’t dare, not unless she wanted to know the answer. She didn’t. He’d made it clear in his years of silence that he wanted nothing from her anymore. Even before, he’d only wanted sex. Their families were rivals. Their union never was meant to be.
But then he dragged his fingers down her bare body. “Do you ever think—”
“Yes.” She kissed him to stop the rest of the question, then they went about getting presentable again. Her hands shook. He brushed them away and buttoned her blouse.
Then he passed her his phone. “I don’t have any chains in the truck or I’d try to pull you out of the ditch.”
She called her father. He would assess the situation before they decided whether they needed a tow truck.
“You probably shouldn’t be here when they arrive,” she said to Win.
“I imagine they would think I was just being neighborly. Anyway, if they have caller ID, they already know whose phone you used.”
She hadn’t thought of that.
He eyed her directly, as if waiting for more from her. “Well. That was an unexpected pleasure,” he said as he tucked her hair behind her ear then caressed her earlobe.
“Who would’ve thought that the next time I saw you, we’d make love,” she said. She started to climb out of the truck, but turned back to him. “Wait a minute. You said you wanted to talk to me.”
She saw hesitation in his eyes.
“Another time. Welcome home, Jen.”
He took off immediately. She watched his truck until she couldn’t see it anymore. She refused to give in to the tornado of emotions swirling through her. She also needed to pull herself together before her father arrived, especially if her all-seeing mother tagged along. Jenny had come home a day early, wanting to surprise them. She needed to seem happy and excited.
Except she was mostly confused. Win Morgan wasn’t just her first lover. They’d also been married—for a month.
That was some history they had. She had to keep that secret forever, along with the fact she’d loved him with all her heart, had told him so every day—even though she’d only been a diversion and a responsibility to him. And that part she didn’t want to think about. Even though she did. Every single day.
A line of pickups came up the road a little while later—her father and three of her brothers, all there to help.
She was home. It could only get better from here.
Chapter Two
Even though Jenny had seen most of her family a few days ago for her graduation ceremony, seeing them now, after being denied the loan and having crashed her car and made love with Win, brought tears to her eyes. No one questioned it, assuming she was just happy to be home. Which she was. And wasn’t.
Her mother cupped her face and looked into her eyes as the men pondered her car from every angle and the best way to extricate it.
“What’s wrong?” Dori Ryder asked, tipping back her straw cowboy hat.
Although Jenny had the Ryder blue eyes, she looked like her mother, which was a good thing, in Jenny’s opinion. “Just feeling emotional.”
“You were lucky to escape injury.”
“Yes.” If her mother wanted to think that, it was fine with Jenny.
Dori put an arm around Jenny’s shoulder and walked them closer to the men. “Your father says your call came through on Win Morgan’s phone.”
“He happened by. He didn’t have chains, so he couldn’t help.”
“Why didn’t he stay? What if the clouds had opened up again?”
“He left just before you got here. I told him to go.”
“Was he bothering you?”
Jenny narrowly stopped herself from laughing hysterically. “Why would you ask that?”
“You seem particularly agitated.”
“I think having my car in a ditch would be reason enough for that.”
“Jenny, my sweet,” her mother said, “you’ve been able to go with the flow all your life. Nothing ever shakes you.”
“Well, I’m not as young as I used to be.”
Dori laughed and pulled Jenny in for a tighter hug. “Twenty-two is old now, is it?”
“It’s sixty in horse years.”
Her mother grinned. “Have you got a tail hidden in those...pants? Um, you’re not wearing Wranglers? Seriously, Jen, what’s going on?”
“Didn’t get laundry done before I hit the road.”
“Jenny,” her father called out. “We’re gonna call Tex. We can chain ’er up and pull ’er out, but she’s gonna need repairs before you can drive it again. Tex might as well just do the whole job.”
“Whatever you think, Dad.”
“Dori, why don’t you and Jen head on home? You can get the party started. I’ll ride with Mitch.”
“I’ll give you my credit card,” Jenny said, stepping forward.
“The hell you will. Tex’ll be glad to swap for some beef, as always.”
And so it begins.... She would be living at the homestead again, therefore her father would “handle” things for her.
“You’re too quiet,” her mother said as they drove toward the ranch.
Jenny reacted to the seeming criticism. “Well, Mom, in the past two weeks I wrote three papers, took five final exams, graduated, packed and shipped my belongings, then drove home alone from Arizona in two days. I deserve to be tired.”
“And