A Fallow Heart (Tommy Creek #2)(4)

“Huh?” Cooper jerked to another stop and gaped down at her.

“Yo, Coop,” someone called, interrupting them. He jumped guiltily, though what he had to feel guilty about, he wasn’t sure. He certainly hadn’t forced Jo Ellen Rawlings to admit she preferred his smell to her own boyfriend’s.

“Where’d you get that beer?” the interloper asked.

“Here.” Coop tossed over his unopened can, unable to take his gaze off Jo Ellen’s face. “Take mine.”

His recipient was only too eager to accept as he snagged it from the air. “Hey, thanks.”

Jo Ellen stared right back at him just as intently as he was studying her. It took a great effort for him to concentrate. “If you see Emma Leigh around, tell her I drove her sister home, would you?” he called to whomever.

A pop, fizz, and guzzle, guzzle, guzzle answered him until a satisfied sigh drifted from the dark. “Sure thing, Coop. No problem.”

“Thanks.” Cooper nudged Jo Ellen along. Finally breaking their stare, she lowered her face and snuggled closer to him. He commanded himself not to like the contact, but his body didn’t listen. It delighted in every brush of her warm flesh against his.

Deciding to take up her conversation where she’d left off, she smoothed her hand idly down his arm. “Why do some guys think they have to wear so much cologne?”

Only ten more feet to his passenger side door, Cooper told himself as he distractedly murmured, “I have no idea.”

“Makes my eyes water and nose itch.”

“Mmm.” He grunted, trying desperately to avoid such a dangerous discussion. As he dug his keys from his pocket, he continued to hold her against him with one arm while he opened the door for her. “Here we are, sweetheart. In you go.”

Obligingly, she reached for the door and began to climb up into his four-wheel drive, her perfectly formed ass nearly whacking him in the face during her fumbling. Then she tripped and banged her knee against the frame of the truck. With his hand still on her waist, supporting her, Coop tripped with her and began to fall onto the floorboard on top of her before he caught himself.

Sprawled half inside his truck and half out, Jo Ellen giggled as she rolled onto her back under him. “Ouch.”

“Oh my God, Jo Ellen. Are you okay?” He started to scramble up, but paused when he looked down because he found her staring at him with a dreamy smile.

“You called me sweetheart.”

Though he held most of his weight off her, he remained hovered above. They stared at each other, their faces only inches apart. His pulse rammed against his throat. His breathing turned choppy while heat spread over his skin like a rash.

Her lips parted, and her eyelids went heavy as if she wanted him to kiss her. Coop swallowed, all too ready to indulge. Licking his lips and unable to take his gaze off her ripe mouth, he dipped down.

“Oh God,” she moaned, “Your truck is spinning.”

Coop froze in his descent as he lifted his attention to discover she’d snapped her eyelids closed. Damn. That had been close.

“Open your eyes,” he suggested and pulled back, pausing to clear his head before he tugged her up and set her slumped on his bench seat.

She did as he said and let out a relieved sigh when she looked around the interior of his cab. “Oh, good. Tha’s much better.”

Coop spotted an old Gatorade bottle propped in his dash and grabbed it. It was half empty, but as wasted as she was, she probably wouldn’t worry about drinking after him.

“Here,” he said, screwing off the cap and handing it over. “Swish this around in your mouth and spit it out on the ground.”

Again, she obediently followed his instruction, though he had to hold onto her as she leaned out of his truck to spit. Once she was rinsed clean, she guzzled the rest of the bottle, draining it.

“Better?” he asked, taking the empty from her and tossing it into the bed of his truck.

She nodded, smacking her lips. “Mmm hmm. Much. Thank you.”

“Yep.” He seat-belted her in. As he backed out of the cab to shut her door for her, she reached for him, barely catching the tips of his fingers.

Her grip was light and oh-so soft, but he froze as if he’d been caught in a steel vise. She had such an amazing hand, a fine-boned grasp denoting delicacy and bringing out all sorts of protective instincts in him. Yet she didn’t use a limp, placid hold; she put muscle into her action, clinging to his fingers. After years and years of worshiping her from afar, he couldn’t believe she was here in his truck, cleaving to him. It was almost more than he could take.

She smiled. “I mean it. Thank you.” Her voice, weak and slurred, called out to that place inside him that had always responded to her. “Thank you so much for taking care of me…like this.”

“It’s no problem. Honestly.” He shook his head, wanting to snort out an incredulous laugh. Spend time with Jo Ellen Rawlings? Yeah, that definitely wasn’t a problem for him. “I love you.” The explanation bubbled from him before he realized exactly what he was saying.

Jo Ellen blinked, clearly baffled. “What?”

He jerked his hand from hers and cleared his throat. “I…I said, I owe you.”

She frowned, still looking confused. “You do?”

“Sure.” He shrugged, unable to look at her. “Emma Leigh’s driven me home drunk plenty of times.” He lied, but she wouldn’t know that. “This way, I can finally pay her back one.”