Cowgirls Don't Cry(30)

Maybe that’s because someone is taking the time to talk to him.

Samantha hadn’t been forthcoming about her parenting skills, probably because they were lacking.

As Brandt was about to hoist Landon onto his hip, the gate opened and Lexie tore out. Landon gave chase before Brandt could grab onto his hood and stop him. Damn. The kid was fast.

“Hey, wait a second. Come back here.”


“Let him run.”


He’d known the instant Jessie came up behind him, even before she spoke. It might’ve been the scent of her cherry Chapstick carried on the wind. Or it might’ve been the sound her coveralls made as she walked closer. A sound he’d heard a lot in the year they spent together doing chores. He faced her. “Need me to do anything?”


“No. Unless you wanna stay out here and watch Landon run his legs off while I shower.”


“You thinking what I’m thinking?”


She smiled. “I can wash my own back, but thanks for offering.”


Holy hell. That wasn’t what he’d been thinking at all. But now that she’d brought it up, Brandt couldn’t get the image of her wet, nekkid body out of his mind. Watching the water sluice over her curves through a cloud of steam surrounding her. Steam that hung heavy and damp with the sweet scent of her soap. Or with the musky aroma from her…


“Brandt?”


Dammit. He looked toward Landon to hide his blush. “The offer stands. Any time. However, I was thinkin’ along the lines of the longer I keep him out here, the earlier he’ll hit the hay tonight.”


“Good plan. Come in whenever you guys are ready.”


Brandt commended his willpower in not turning around and watching her hips sway as she headed to the house.

Snap out of it, man. This is the first day. If she catches you eyeballing her ass, she’ll kick yours right out the door.

True. But that pesky feeling of hope arose, that feeling he’d all but stomped out when she’d shot him down last year. Given months to reflect, he understood how lousy his timing had been.

Landon started to fall asleep during supper. While Brandt bathed him, Jessie washed the dishes. She’d changed into sweat pants after her shower, and when he returned to the living room after putting Landon down for the night, he had to stop and grip the back of the reclining chair.

How many nights had they spent just like this? Jessie sitting cross-legged on the couch, engrossed in her knitting. Him watching TV, or pretending to watch TV when it was far more interesting to covertly watch her.

They’d spent dozens of nights together. Revisiting those nights gave him the same sharp ache of want he’d felt back then.

Jessie looked up. Her gaze flicked over him and she smiled. “Nice jammies.”


Brandt glanced down at the camo fleece pants and camo tank top. Okay, maybe they didn’t match, but they didn’t look that bad. “Hey, at least I’m wearin’ jammies. Normally I sleep commando.”


“Must be a family thing. Luke did too.”


A perfectly natural comment, but for some reason it rubbed him wrong. He plopped right beside her.

He leaned over and peered at the twisted ball of yarn on her lap. “Whatcha makin’?”


She held up a brown blob. “A mess. It’s supposed to be a hat for my mom’s husband for Christmas. It sort of looks like a cowpie right now, huh?”


“Maybe. But it don’t smell like one.”


“You’re so sweet.”