A Fallow Heart (Tommy Creek #2)(5)

His explanation didn’t connect in her head; he could see her trying to rationalize and think it through. The little wrinkle between her eyes was adorable. But she slurred, “Oh, okay then,” letting it go at that. “It’s still really nice of you.”

Cooper couldn’t count the number of times he’d been called nice, but it had never bothered him before; until now. He’d had plenty of selfish, loathsome thoughts in his life. And he was having a couple of them right now. Because despite how nice his actions might be, he delighted at the knowledge he had the next few minutes alone with her, just to talk to her, sit beside her, and breathe in her Jo Ellen-ness.

Nodding, he shut her door and jogged around to the driver’s side before climbing in behind the wheel. As he started the engine, he glanced over to find her passed out cold, her arms lying limply at her sides and her neck arched back as she rested her head on the back of the seat. She looked ripe for the plucking. But she belonged to someone else.

Gnashing his teeth, he shook his head. “I really hate Travis Untermeyer.”





Chapter Two


Cooper called his neck of the world Rawlings Country. Three, fourths of the population in Tommy Creek was either employed by Rawlings Oil or directly related to someone who was. The other twenty-five percent were usually dirt-poor crop farmers like Coop’s family.

He didn’t hold it against Jo Ellen for being part of the mighty Rawlings dynasty. She couldn’t help who her parents were any more than he could help who his were. But that didn’t stop him from grinding his molars in frustration when he pulled his thirty-year-old truck into her long driveway.

The gravel path led down a hundred-yard trail between two rows of white-painted pipe fence until it hit a circle drive in front of the looming three-story mansion. Since his muffler had rusted off years ago, there was no way her family wouldn’t hear him coming. And he didn’t particularly want the mighty Mr. Rawlings to catch him with the man’s daughter drunk and passed out in his cab.

Grateful there was a slight decline, he killed his engine and cut the lights, coasting nearly all the way to the start of the circle. Close enough, he decided, and put ‘er in park before he turned toward a lightly snoring Jo Ellen only to sigh over his next obstacle—how to get the drunk girl inside.

He murmured her name and touched her shoulder.

Smiling, she twisted her head his way yet kept her eyes closed. “Hmm?”

She was so endearing; he had to shiver himself back to the task at hand.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” he urged. “You’re home.” He winced when he realized what he’d just called her. Hoping she didn’t notice his latest term of endearment, he unbuckled her seatbelt and helped her sit up.

Her eyelids fluttered open.

“Let’s sneak you in, okay.”

“’Kay.” All sweetness and compliance, she brought her legs up to her chest and curled her body around to rest her cheek on her upraised knees as if she was fully prepared to camp out right where she was.

Letting out a defeated groan because honestly, he liked her where she was, Coop nudged her arm. “Will the door be locked?”

She nodded, not bothering to lift her head. “Mmm hmm.”

“Do you have a key to get in?”

“’S’in my pocket,” came her muffled answer.

Cooper’s gaze fell to her tight name brand blue jeans, and his mouth went dry. He gulped. “Think you could get it for me? Jo Ellen?”

In answer, she rolled around in order to present her hip to him, where he made out the distinct outline of a single key. “Go ahead,” she mumbled, half-asleep.

Instant, nearly suffocating heat blanketed him. As Cooper stared at the imprint her key made, he was tempted as he’d never been tempted before. But he managed to hold himself back for one more try. “Jo Ellen,” he instructed, trying to sound strict, but his voice was too hoarse to achieve anything above a husky mutter. “Sweetheart, get the key out of your pocket. Okay?”

“Tired,” she slurred.

He growled.

Damn it. He wasn’t going to sit there all night, letting his archenemy’s girlfriend turn him on. Setting his resolve, he gritted his clamped jaw tighter and said, “Don’t take this wrong, all right?”

Her jeans fit so snug he couldn’t slide his entire hand into her pocket, only managed to wiggle a few fingers inside. He closed his eyes and ignored the rising heat gathering against the fabric of his clothes. No way could he ignore the warmth of her thigh coming through the snug denim of her jeans, however, or the way she sighed and arched into his touch.

Concentrating on his task—or rather trying to concentrate but totally failing—he bit his lip and reached an inch deeper. Christ, even thinking the word deeper made his skin buzz with an overdose of awareness.

Just as he secured the key between his two longest fingers, Jo Ellen opened her eyes and looked up at him. Bent over her with his hands in her pants, Cooper froze, his face inches from hers.

“You called me sweetheart again.”

A drop of sweat slithered down his temple.

Her eyelids flickered sleepily before she glanced around the interior of the truck and asked in a thick, yet coherent voice, “What’re we doing in this truck?”

“I…we…I’m bringing you home.”