Chapter 11 #2
“We’ll work on that,” Fred said. “He probably thinks that’s what you’re supposed to say at a time like this. Can’t expect him to get everything right at first. He’s from New York.”
Jo gazed at Quinn sailing around the corral in the rain, a big old grin on his face. “Let me get this straight. This whole circus this morning was Quinn’s idea, not yours?”
“I’ve seen how you look at him, Jo. I wouldn’t deliberately do the boy wrong.”
Jo pulled her slicker closer around her. “I don’t look at him any certain way.”
“Okay. Whatever you say. And he don’t look at you no certain way, either. I’m an old coot and I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
Jo sighed. “You sound like Emmy Lou.”
“Well, she’s an old lady, just like I’m an old coot. Our eyesight’s no good, and besides, we can’t remember what it’s like to have them feelings, so don’t pay us no mind.”
Jo had a sudden flash of insight. She began putting together isolated incidents and finally decided she had a case. “Fred, are you sweet on Emmy Lou?”
The part of Fred’s cheeks not covered with his bushy gray beard grew red.
“Now what makes you say a darn fool thing like that? Emmy Lou and me have been working on this ranch together for years, been giving each other hell for years, too. We’ve known each other too long, and we’re too danged sensible for such goings-on. ”
Jo grinned. “I’ll be damned. You are sweet on her. Does she know?”
“She don’t know because there’s nothing to it!” Fred turned abruptly and made a megaphone of his hands again. “Hey, Quinn, how about finding the brake on that nag? I need me some breakfast!”
“You go ahead. I’ll be fine.”
“You will not be fine. Don’t go getting cocky on me. In case you hadn’t noticed, you’re on a runaway horse. Hyper’s got the bit in his teeth, and if you weren’t in this here corral, he’d be taking you on a trip to the high country, and you wouldn’t have any say about it at all.”
“I’ll bet I could stop this horse whenever I want.”
Fred exchanged a glance with Jo and sighed. “Ain’t that just like any other cowboy in the world? A little success, and he gets to bragging on himself.”
“Fred, he’s not a cowboy.”
“He sure as hell acts like one.” He raised his voice. “Let’s see this control you’ve got over that horse, cowboy. And don’t go jerking the reins and hurting his mouth. Go easy.”
“Okay.” Quinn started pulling as he rounded the curve coming toward Jo and Fred. Nothing happened. He frowned and pulled harder.
Fred folded his arms. “We’re waiting on you, cowboy. Try yelling whoa.”
Quinn put more muscle into it. “Whoa!” he yelled. When Hyper still didn’t respond, he leaned back on the reins. “Dammit, stop!”
“I’ll get him not to say dammit stop when I mention the yee-haw,” Fred said.
“Good idea. Look out, here he—”
Hyper slid to a stop right in front of Jo and Fred, spraying mud all over them.
“—comes,” Jo finished, holding out her arms and surveying her yellow slicker, now polka-dotted with mud. At least her clothes were protected by the slicker. Fred would have to start over before he appeared at the ranch house.
“Wow. Just like a New York street sweeper.” Quinn sat in the saddle staring at them. “Sorry about that.”
Jo glanced at him and saw the sparkle of mischief in his blue eyes. “Funny, but you don’t look sorry,” she said.
“Oh, but I am.” He leaned on the saddle horn and grinned at her.
Amazing, Jo thought. At this moment every obnoxious, sexy, devilish inch of him screamed out cowboy. But he wasn’t quite cowboy enough to know he should keep his feet in the stirrups until he was ready to dismount.
Taking note of that, Jo slipped through the rails of the corral. “Let me help you get off that beast.”
“Oh, that’s okay.” He patted the horse’s neck. “Me and Hyper, we’re getting along fine. You have to know how to deal with him. He just needs a firm hand.”
“I’m sure you’re right. What was I thinking? Thanks for telling me.” She hoped Hyper remembered the trick she’d taught him when he was still a colt. She grabbed his reins and gave a soft, low whistle.
On cue, Hyper reared, and Quinn slid neatly down the horse’s rump into the mud.
“It’s a good idea to keep your feet in the stirrups when you’re sitting in the saddle,” she said with a sweet-as-pie grin. “You never know what might happen if you don’t.” She led Hyper out the gate Fred held open.
“Good job,” Fred said, smiling in approval as he took the reins from her.
“I’ll walk him a little and give him a rubdown.
” He glanced at Quinn, who still sat in the mud as if he couldn’t quite believe he’d ended up there after his grand finish.
“Come on down to the bunkhouse for a shower before breakfast, cowboy,” he said.
“You’re not fit to sit at Emmy Lou’s table looking like that. ” He walked Hyper toward the barn.
Quinn continued to sit in the mud with the rain pouring down on him.
Jo stood by the open gate. “Are you coming out?”
“You did that on purpose,” he said, a note of surprise in his voice.
“Somebody had to. You were getting way too big for your britches.” She stepped a little closer, hoping her little maneuver hadn’t been too rough on him. “Are you okay?”
“What if I’m not?”
Instantly she regretted her impulsiveness. She hurried toward him. “Oh, Quinn, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I only wanted to prick a hole in your pride before it got out of control.” Anxiety twisted in her stomach. “Can you stand?”
“I don’t know.”
Dammit, why had she allowed herself that moment of revenge? “Where do you hurt?”
His head drooped. “All over. I don’t think there’s a single inch of me that doesn’t hurt.”
“Oh, Quinn.” She dropped to her knees in the mud beside him and put her hand on his mud-caked shoulder. “Did you twist your ankle? Is that why you’re afraid to stand up? What can I do?”
His head lifted slowly. She had the space of a heartbeat to see the wicked gleam in his eyes before he grabbed her and wrestled her to the mud. She shrieked and fought, but he unsnapped her slicker and started smearing mud down the front of her shirt.
“Stop that! I’ll kill you, Quinn Monroe!”
“Devil woman,” he said, laughing as he rolled with her in the muck. “How dare you make that horse rear? You turned him into a regular water slide.”
“How dare you tell me how to handle him? Let me up!”
He pinned her to the ooze and proceeded to rub mud all over her. “Not until you’re as covered with this goo as I am. Dump me in the dirt, will you?”
“You were getting too cocky!” Her breathing became labored as she struggled to free herself. Or maybe it was the other sensation, the one of having his hands all over her, that was causing her to gasp for breath.
“I deserved to be cocky.” His chest heaved as he gulped in air. “I got up at the crack of dawn and busted my butt, literally, on that spoiled horse of yours. And by God, I rode him.”
“I think it was more like he took you for a ride!” She continued to squirm away from his touch, but her heart wasn’t in it. In fact, the squish of the mud was beginning to feel sort of good. And she was feeling a bit warm and oozy inside as well as outside.
“That horse knew who was boss.” His hand grazed her breast as if by accident. “I was in control the entire time.”
“Were not.”
“Was, too.” He grabbed her wrists and held them as he rolled on top of her.
Surely she hadn’t meant to make a cradle of her hips. Surely he hadn’t meant to ease himself between her thighs. Surely neither of them had intended to end up in the perfect position for her to discover that he was fully aroused.
“Were not,” she whispered, looking into his eyes.
“Was, too.” His eyes darkened as his gaze searched hers. “Jo...”
Her heart beat like a rabbit’s. “Don’t kiss me, Quinn.”
“Okay, I won’t.” He lowered his head.
“You are.” She was quivering. “You’re going to kiss me.”
“No. Brian Hastings is going to kiss you. Think Brian Hastings.”
When his mouth found hers, she didn’t think at all.
She sure did feel, though — cool lips that quickly warmed against hers and shaped themselves into the soul of temptation in no time, a tongue that told her exactly what Quinn would be doing if they didn’t have two layers of denim between their significant body parts.
She liked everything about this kiss, even the mud that squished between them as he eased his chest to press against her breasts.
The only thing she didn’t like was that he stopped kissing her. “More,” she whispered, keeping her eyes firmly closed.
“Can’t.”
“Can so.”
“If I kiss you some more, I’m liable to unzip your jeans and start getting serious about this maneuver.”
Reluctantly she opened her eyes. At least he looked as frustrated as she felt. “Oh, Quinn, what are we going to do?”
He gave her a crooked grin. “I’m moving to the bunkhouse.”