Chapter 10
Chapter 10
W atching Jack ride horseback and wrangle the picnic basket with such ease impressed Harper, caused her to imagine how deft and skilled he might be at doing other things, and when they finally dismounted, after an hour of following an old dirt road up into the foothills on his ranch, her knees were weak.
She told herself it was because of the ride, but she knew that wasn’t the whole story.
The spot Jack had chosen for their picnic was in a small clearing, near the remains of an old log cabin, long abandoned and shaded by several oak and maple trees, planted years before.
Once her legs felt sturdy enough to walk instead of leaning against her horse, Harper approached the cabin.
“Do you know who lived here?” she asked, as Jack came to stand beside her.
He considered his answer before offering it. “They were most likely the original homesteaders,” he said. “The place has been added to again and again, and unlike a lot of ranches, it didn’t remain in the same family—it’s been sold and resold a number of times.”
“It’s beautiful,” Harper murmured, taking in the wild landscape surrounding them. They’d splashed across a shallow part of the creek on the way up the trail, and passed a herd of cattle, roaming free, grazing on acres of lush green grass. Now that they were nearer the treeline, the air was cool and crisp. “What a fantastic place to raise children.”
Realizing the possible implications of that last statement, Harper blushed and averted her eyes. The truth was, she’d been picturing several children besides Gideon, children born to her and Jack, and she was mortified to realize he’d guessed what she was thinking.
The soft, amused look in his blue eyes indicated that he had, but instead of saying so, he tilted his head to one side for a moment, then indicated the copse of maples and oaks. “Suppose you set up the picnic while I secure the horses?” he asked.
Harper nodded, reclaimed the picnic basket, and quickly turned her back. She hadn’t known Jack O’Ballivan long enough to be thinking about having children with him, for heaven’s sake.
Finding a piece of soft ground under the trees, she opened the basket and took out the thin blanket she’d packed, along with the sandwiches, potato salad, cupcakes, and wine. She spread out the blanket and knelt to begin removing the food, most of which she’d prepared very early that morning.
Meanwhile, Jack tethered the horses loosely to the old but sturdy-looking hitching rail alongside the cabin. There, they were in the shade, and there was plenty of grass for them to nibble on. The animals had drunk their fill of creek water earlier, on the way up, and Jack had assured Harper that they would be fine for the time being.
Well, the horses would be fine.
Harper wasn’t so sure she would.
Despite the peace and beauty of the place they’d chosen for their picnic, the attraction she felt for Jack was building momentum, like a wildfire blazing through tinder-dry grass.
He’d promised to limit their physical interactions to kissing, and Harper knew that was for the best, but a part of her—a big part of her—wanted something else entirely.
They sat cross-legged on the blanket, facing each other, as Harper carefully arranged the containers of food—after using hand sanitizer from the small bottle she’d tucked into the basket, an action that made Jack grin.
She kept her attention focused on the food, hoping Jack wouldn’t see the blush heating her face. With luck, he’d mistake it for sunburn.
The occasional surreptitious glance, however, proved he was aware of her jangled senses and maybe even the fire spreading through her body.
He selected the white wine from the insulated basket, rummaged for the corkscrew, opened the bottle, and poured a portion into each of the two plastic wineglasses provided. Waited until Harper stopped fussing and fidgeting to hand one to her.
“Easy does it, cowgirl,” he teased, as she spilled some of the wine onto her jeans. “I’m a man of my word. As badly as I want to make love to you, right here and now, I won’t.”
Harper’s face felt downright inflamed, but she made herself meet his eyes. “You want to make love to me?” she asked, and then silently berated herself for asking such a stupid question. Jack O’Ballivan was a strong, healthy red-blooded man —of course he wanted sex. Didn’t all men?
He gave a mock sigh. “Will you just chill out, Quinn?” he asked. “Nothing’s going to happen between us unless you’re one hundred percent in agreement.” With that, he touched his wineglass to hers, then took a sip.
“You don’t actually think I think you’d force me?” Harper asked, horrified that she might have given him that idea.
“You know I don’t think that,” Jack replied casually. “But I have to admit I’m wondering why you’re so nervous.”
Harper was a long time answering, but when she did, she was honest. “I’m nervous,” she began, “because I kind of wish you hadn’t promised—well, what you promised.”
Jack made a low, growling sound, then laughed. “Let’s talk about something else,” he said. “At least until you calm down.”
“You did say we needed to talk,” Harper reflected, as a breeze rustled the leaves over their heads.
“That I did,” Jack agreed. He used the hand sanitizer, then reached for one of the chicken-salad sandwiches Harper had set out. He took a bite, chewed thoughtfully, and finally swallowed. “There’s a lot we don’t know about each other.”
Harper didn’t have an appetite by then, though she’d been hungry only minutes before. So she nibbled at one corner of her own sandwich and waited.
“For instance,” Jack began, after drawing in a deep breath and exhaling it slowly, “what are you looking for in a husband?”
Harper considered the question for a while, though the answers were ready and waiting at the forefront of her brain. “Commitment,” she replied quietly. “Integrity. Emotional availability.” She paused, swallowed, then searched Jack’s face with sad eyes. “I trusted my fiancé, and he lied to me. Blatantly. He told me he loved me, that we were going to get married and have babies and live happily ever after, but all the while, he was cheating. I came home from a conference one day and caught him and one of my friends from work in the shower together. Turned out, they’d been an item for months, and I never had a clue.”
Jack reached across, gently smoothed back a tendril of her hair, which had come loose from her ponytail at some point.
The touch of that man’s work-roughened hand did things to Harper that went beyond the havoc her imagination was wreaking.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
Harper sucked in a deep breath, mainly to keep herself from bursting into tears, and held Jack’s gaze. “I’m over it,” she said. “I’ve finally realized that losing George, hard as it was, was one of the best things that could have happened to me. As they say, I dodged a bullet. It would have broken me if we’d been married, with children, when he cheated.”
“But you still worry about getting mixed up with another guy like him,” Jack ventured.
“Well, obviously I wouldn’t want that, but I’m stronger now. Maybe even smarter.”
“Oh, you’re definitely smart,” Jack pointed out. “Could be, you’ve even picked up on the fact that when it comes to fidelity, I’m a sure bet. As far as relationships go, I’m either all in or all out. I don’t do shades of gray, and that’s not always a good thing—I can be opinionated as hell, and twice as stubborn.”
“Have you ever been in love?” Harper asked, surprised by her own forthrightness. Maybe it was the wine.
“Early on, I thought I loved Loreen,” he replied solemnly. “We met in college and lived together until I caught her beating my dog. For me, that was the end.”
Harper shuddered at the image. “That’s awful.”
“I was semi-serious about a few other women over the years, but when it came right down to it, the connection I wanted—needed—just wasn’t there. So I guess the answer to your question is, no, I haven’t been in love, at least, not deeply enough to make a lifetime commitment.”
“Okay,” Harper said, because she didn’t know what else to say at that moment. There was loneliness behind Jack’s words.
“Are you thinking I’m too damned choosy?” he asked, grinning now.
“No,” Harper responded. “I’m thinking you’re smart. I knew, deep down, that George and I weren’t right for each other, but I went ahead with the engagement anyway, because I thought I could turn him into the person he should have been.”
“Do you have regrets?”
“Yes,” she answered, without hesitation. “I regret the time I wasted. I guess I just wanted a home and a husband and a family so badly that my judgment was skewed. Makes it hard to trust myself.”
Jack put his sandwich down and balanced his wineglass on the lid of the picnic basket, then reached out to cup her chin in his hand. His thumb moved gently over her cheek. “Listen,” he said quietly, holding her gaze. “You can trust yourself, Harper. We all make mistakes—it’s choosing to learn from them that matters. And you know what? I’ve wanted a home, a wife, and a family for as long as I can remember, so we’re on the same page there.”
“Really? You want more children, besides Gideon?”
“Yes,” Jack responded, without hesitation. “And before you say it’s too soon to talk about the future, Harper, hear me out. Something is happening between us, something powerful and right and good. It has the feel of a once-in-a-lifetime thing, at least for me. So there are times when waiting isn’t the best thing to do. When it’s better to go for it.”
Harper opened her mouth, then closed it again.
Then, at the same time, both she and Jack shifted to their knees, and in the next moment—and for some moments after that—they were kissing. Really kissing, deeply and with fervor.
By the time that kiss ended, Harper felt like a figure skater, poised on the tip of one blade and spinning into a blur.
She loved Jack O’Ballivan, and that was a fact.
Time had nothing to do with it.
Jack gripped her shoulders, as if to stop the spinning, though of course he couldn’t have known it was happening.
Or could he? He was one of the most perceptive people Harper had ever encountered.
He leaned forward, eyes still closed, and rested his forehead against hers, like he had that other time, beside the creek. “Harper,” he said, his voice gruff with emotion. “Maybe you won’t believe this, but I’ve been waiting for you for a long, long time.”
Harper spread her fingers through his dark hair, then tilted her head slightly and kissed him. “I believe you,” she whispered, when that kiss, too, had ended. “And it just so happens that I’ve been waiting for you, too.”
Jack opened his eyes, his hands cupping her face now. “I’m taking this a step further,” he said. “I’m about ninety-nine percent sure I love you.”
Harper tipped her head back and laughed for pure joy, and Jack began nibbling at her neck.
Within five minutes, he had her wanting him so badly that she was ready to throw all constraint to the wind, but Jack was determined to keep his word, it seemed.
He held her wrists gently and said, “We’re going to wait, Harper.”
She stared at him, less mirthful now. Confounded, even. “Why?”
He touched her lips with his, just barely grazing them, and fire shot through her system as if from a flame gun. “Because you’re worth it,” he said. “We’re going to do this the old-fashioned way, Quinn. The right way. When I take you to bed, we’ll be husband and wife.”
Harper had nothing to say to that. She was, actually, a little disappointed.
He laughed and kissed her again, and everything around them seemed to vanish—the landscape, the horses, the old cabin, even the half-finished picnic and the spilled wine.
Harper was lost as she had never been lost before and, at the same time, completely and wholly found. She seemed to dissolve into particles, now a small, separate universe, now melded, cell for cell, with Jack.
All that, without actually making love.
During the slow, quiet ride down the hill, back to level ground, Harper marveled at the strange new feelings shifting and swirling within her, around her.
Jack glanced her way now and then, but he seemed to be lost in thought, as well. Happy thought.
When they reached the barn, she helped him put away the horses, removing their saddles and bridles, brushing them down, filling their feed troughs.
Inside the house, they washed up at different sinks, then met in the kitchen.
They’d decided not to go out to dinner, but to stay in, together.
Jack, having been single for so long, proved to be a very competent cook.
He whipped up a meal of fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and green beans boiled with onions and bacon.
It was all delicious.
Gideon and Tom returned from their adventures about midway through supper, having caught six sizable trout between them. Trey was with them, and he was exhausted, gobbling up his supper of kibble, lapping up what seemed like a gallon of water, and then collapsing, with a big doggie sigh, into his bed.
Gideon looked from Jack to Harper and back again.
Then, without saying a word, he grinned.
Like his father, Harper concluded, Gideon was perceptive.
He knew something had happened between Harper and his dad, and he was happy about it.
Thank heaven.