High meadow, p.10
High Meadow, page 10
I open my mouth to object but Dad jumps in.
“Trust me. I didn’t like it either, but she called this one. The kid’s good with him.”
Dan is back in the saddle, softly clucking at the horse, who resumes his easy trot around the enclosure. Behind me the second truck and trailer carrying Fletch, James, Bo, and the horses rumbles down the drive. I watch Phantom’s head come up as his ears flit back and forth. A spirited animal, he doesn’t like the big trailer and starts bucking.
To my surprise Dan sticks to the saddle like glue, not looking the least bit scared. I can’t hear what he says but he’s mumbling something. He’s not overcorrecting or even attempting to manage Phantom, and yet the horse appears to calm down.
Well, I’ll be damned.
The whole thing lasted maybe a few minutes and already Dan looks to have the situation back in hand.
“He’s a natural,” I mumble.
I hate to admit it, but I’m a bit envious. I’m no slouch with horses, but that didn’t exactly come easy. I had to work hard at it.
“He is,” Alex agrees, smiling proudly like you’d expect a mother would. “And I bet he’d do well with Blitz as well. He’s nonthreatening,” she explains when she catches my reaction. “He doesn’t challenge Phantom—there’s no battle for dominance—but he still manages to guide him.”
“You ask me, that boy’s wasted on the grunt work,” Dad contributes.
Damn. This is going to require some thinking but I’ll need a clearer head first.
“We’ll talk about it later,” I tell Dad before turning to Alex. “You, I’d like to have a word with.”
I put a hand on her arm and guide her away from the pen and my father’s interference, when I notice she’s limping.
“I know what you’re going to say,” she starts.
“No you don’t.”
“And you’re right, I should’ve checked with you first.” She stops abruptly and snaps her head around. “Wait…what?”
“Why does your face look like someone took a few swings at it, and why the fuck are you limping?”
Irritation and exhaustion—and the fact I really don’t fucking like to see Alex hurt—have me snapping.
“I told you,” she says with a roll of her eyes. “I went for a ride, my horse got spooked and he took off through the trees.” She points at her face. “A tree branch did that and I hit my knee on a trunk. That’s all.”
I rub a hand over my face.
“What spooked the horse?”
“I don’t know,” she says, but when she averts her eyes, I know she’s lying.
“Alexandra…”
“It’s…I thought I saw someone up the ridge. Next thing I know there was a loud bang.”
“A loud bang like a gunshot?”
The hair on my neck stands on end.
“Can’t be sure. I guess it’s possible,” she says casually.
Way too fucking casual if you ask me.
“Who the hell shot at you?”
That came out a little too forcefully, which is instantly evident from the pissed-off look on Alex’s face.
“For real? I wasn’t about to wait around and ask for his number, Jonas. Besides, it was probably a hunter.”
“On your land?”
“Yes…no… I don’t know, okay? I think it was still on my property but I can’t be sure.”
Can’t be sure? It either was or wasn’t, that hardly seems an ambiguous question. But before I can say anything, Sully taps me on the shoulder.
“Sorry to interrupt, Boss, but Schroeder’s on the line.”
“I’ll be right there,” I tell him before turning back to Alex. “What are you doing tonight?”
“Me? Why?”
“Because right now I can barely see straight I’m so tired, I have the FBI waiting on the phone for an update, I need some food and sleep, but I really want a chance to talk to you. We’re likely back out there tomorrow morning, and this time we probably won’t be back until we find them. Have dinner with me tonight.”
She seems to be torn with indecision as she stares at a spot beyond me.
“Alex?”
Her eyes snap to mine.
“Fine. I’ll cook. Lucy has a date tonight and I don’t feel like going out.”
She doesn’t seem too excited at the prospect, but I’ll take what I can get.
Twelve
Alex
* * *
I’ve reconsidered half a dozen times since leaving High Meadow.
After all the different layers to his character Jonas showed me these past few weeks, I’d almost forgotten I thought he was an asshole the first time we met.
I remember now, although I suspect his overbearing attitude was more out of concern this time.
“I’m off!”
Lucy comes flying into the kitchen, stealing a piece of the cucumber I’m slicing.
“Hugh’s not picking you up?”
“Are you kidding? He’s a nice guy and all, and he can make me laugh, but I don’t know if I’d want to date him. Or anyone else for that matter.”
I notice she looks much the same as she always does. Not even a hint of lip gloss but she did put on a pair of jeans without rips and a clean shirt.
“Does he know that?”
“He should. I told him the same thing. He still wanted to take me to dinner.”
I hope Hugh took her at her word, because I know Lucy and she doesn’t play games. She says what she means and means what she says.
“What time is Jonas coming over?”
She shrugs into a jacket. Despite the fairly mild temperatures during the day this time of the year, the nights and mornings can still hold a chill.
“He mentioned around six thirty.”
Lucy grins wide.
“Then I’d better get out of here, and don’t worry, I’ve got my earplugs ready in case he’s still here when I come home,” she teases, as she steals another slice of cucumber from the salad bowl.
“Go already.” I wave her off.
She sticks out her tongue and heads for the door.
“The lasagna smells good!” she yells, before slamming the door behind her.
It better. I’m a mediocre cook in comparison to Lucy, who has mad cooking skills, but I can do a pretty decent lasagna. My go-to dish when I want to make a good impression.
Such is the level of my hypocrisy. On the one hand I’m talking myself out of liking Jonas, while at the same time trying to impress him with my cooking abilities.
The truth is, I like Jonas—I even like his bossy bark because I’ve come to realize it comes from a place of concern—but he scares me all the same. Or rather, caring for him scares me. I could see myself falling to his appeal and that could leave me vulnerable in a way I haven’t allowed myself to feel for a very long time.
I dump the last of the cucumber in the salad and drop the knife and cutting board in the sink. Darting a quick glance at the clock tells me he should be here any minute and a sudden surge of nerves has my hands shaking. To keep them busy I turn to the sink to hand-wash the few dishes when I catch sight of my gun.
I set it next to the phone when I came in the house to start dinner, but I had it on me all afternoon working outside.
Jonas urged me to do that before he went in to take his call. I had no argument with that. It’s normally in the glovebox in my truck because some of the rescue calls we go out on can get hairy. I’ve never actually carried a gun on my body but after yesterday’s events, I have to admit, I felt better for having it on me.
What I didn’t do, however, was report the incident to the police like he suggested. For all I know it was a hunter who ventured a little close to my property lines. I’m new here trying to build a reputation. I haven’t even had a chance to meet all my neighbors yet, so the last thing I want to do is run the risk of alienating them.
Still, when Lucy and I ventured out behind the back field after lunch, I made sure I carried. We made a start on the cleanup of the discarded barbed wire coils, rotting fence posts with old nails sticking out, and a bunch of other crap the previous owner or owners dumped in the trees. We uncovered a few rusted barrels, a broken wheelbarrow, half a dozen old tires, and a couple of concrete cinderblocks, all of which were overgrown with weeds and vines.
It took us about three hours to haul a substantial pile next to my truck. When it became clear it would take us at least three separate runs to the dump to get rid of what we’d pulled out at that point, I called a garbage removal service. Unfortunately, they weren’t able to send a truck until next week, but it’ll give us time to clear out some more.
My muscles ache and my knee throbs like a sonofabitch. Mountain life certainly isn’t for the faint of heart. Since moving here, I’ve done more physical work and incurred more injuries than in all my years running the rescue in Billings.
I’m just putting away the cutting board when I hear the crunch of gravel outside.
“Wow.”
It’s all I manage when I open the door.
His hat and a bottle of wine in one hand and a bouquet of wildflowers in the other, Jonas stands grinning on my doorstep. A far cry from the tired-looking, grumpy man I saw this morning.
He looks fine wearing a dark chambray shirt, dark jeans, and that silver facial hair freshly groomed. Smells amazing too. I’m painfully aware I may have misjudged this dinner date. In my defense, he was pretty irritated at the time he mentioned dinner, and I wasn’t too sure whether he considered this an actual date or just the quick sharing of a meal.
It looks like a proper date. Hell, one look at him tells me that, and I feel bad I didn’t put more effort into my appearance.
“Something smells good,” he says, snapping me back to the present.
“Come in.” I quickly step aside to let him enter.
He immediately deposits his hat on the coatrack. The only times I’ve seen him without were momentary glimpses. I have to say he makes an impression both with and without.
“Boots on or off?” he asks, checking out my socked feet.
“Oh…uh…you can keep them on. We usually do, but I had a shower and changed earlier and…”
My voice trails off when his eyes snap to mine, darker and definitely more intense than a moment ago. Yikes. Maybe mentioning the shower wasn’t such a good idea. One thing is clear though, my lack of effort in my appearance doesn’t seem to bother him much.
He clears his throat and shoves the flowers at me.
“Ama said I should bring these. She picked them.”
I shove my face in the bouquet to hide the smile that forms on my lips. The fact he seems to be as out of practice when it comes to dating as I am is endearing.
“They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
The sound of the oven timer going off has me hurry to the kitchen, indicating for him to follow me. I lay the flowers on the counter and grab my oven mitts.
The lasagna is bubbling nicely and the cheese is perfectly browned, just the way I like it. I quickly slide it on top of the stove where it can cool for a few minutes.
Jonas eyes the massive pan.
“Wow. You made a lot of lasagna.” He makes a point of looking around. “Expecting anyone else?”
“Leftovers,” I explain. “Lucy made me promise to make enough and it’ll be even better tomorrow.”
He grins and casually leans a hip against the counter, not two feet from where I’m standing. Still, he makes an imposing figure and my roomy kitchen suddenly feels small.
“I just need to toss the salad and then we can eat,” I announce in an attempt to cut the charged atmosphere. Then I dive into the fridge for the dressing I made earlier. “Did you want something to drink?”
“I can take care of that. Where can I find a corkscrew?”
“Uhm, right…”
I point at the drawer which is partially obscured by his hips. It takes him a second to clue in.
By the time we sit down at my small dining table, my nerves are shot and my normally healthy appetite gone. I almost spill the wine he pours me when I try to take a fortifying sip.
The next moment he’s on his feet, reaching for my hand and pulling me up from my chair.
“What’s wrong?”
“Get ready,” he warns, sliding his hands on either side of my neck and using his thumbs to tip up my chin. “I’m about to kill the elephant in the room.”
Before I can decipher the cryptic words, his head bends down and his mouth takes mine.
Holy shit.
Jonas
* * *
She was jumpy as fuck from the moment she opened the door.
The kiss seems to work though. Her hands are no longer trembling but firmly clasped at the back of my neck as I try to break away.
“Hold on, Sweets,” I mumble against her eager mouth. “Let’s save some of that for dessert.”
Her mouth tastes way too good and if I keep sampling, I won’t be able to stop. Despite the condom I slipped into my wallet on a whim, it hadn’t been my intention to end up in bed with her tonight. Not that I don’t want to—fuck, it’s all I’ve been thinking about, especially with her taste on my lips—but she isn’t some quick itch I’m trying to scratch. I have a feeling she could be a lot more than that.
When she takes her seat, her cheeks are prettily flushed and the small smile dancing on her lips is better than the tense line they formed earlier.
The lasagna is amazing. Better than Ama’s, and that’s saying something.
“This is great,” I mumble around a full bite.
“It’s my signature dish,” she tells me before modifying her statement. “Well, actually, lasagna is the only thing I do well. Lucy is the real cook in this household. My cooking is mostly just edible.”
“That’s more than I can say. I can fry an egg and grill a steak. That’s about the extent of my culinary capabilities,” I admit. “No one wants me in the kitchen, except to do dishes.”
She smiles graciously. “I’m sure it’s not that bad.”
“It is. You can ask the guys tomorrow.”
“Aren’t you heading out again?”
Shit. That’s right, we’ll be out of there at first light.
“Dawn tomorrow,” I confirm. “We may have found a trail.”
“The missing prisoners? That’s amazing.”
“Let’s not celebrate yet. We found a cabin they may have stopped at. Looks like someone collected some supplies but we haven’t found where they went after that. We’ve got two FBI agents coming with us tomorrow to check it out.”
“Can they ride?” she wants to know.
“If not, they’re gonna learn fast,” I point out. “We’re packing to stay out there a couple of days. Hopefully long enough for us to locate them and bring them out. At least, that’s the plan.”
“I hope you’ll be careful; it sounds dangerous.”
I read the concern on her face and I try to remember the last time anyone other than Dad and maybe Ama were worried about me. It feels damn good. I don’t think even my ex ever showed much concern.
Which reminds me, I should probably share I was married straight out of high school. It lasted only a couple of years and barely even registers for me anymore, but Alex should know.
“We’re fine. My team has done this a time or two,” I explain. “We’ve been doing this kind of work for over twenty years, although initially it was for Uncle Sam.”
“That’s right, you were in the military.”
I hesitate for a fraction. Sharing this kind of information is not something I do easily but in the short time I’ve known Alex, I’ve learned trust is as important to her as it is to me. It’s not like she’s a stranger to military life.
“Army at first. I was young, married straight out of high school before I joined.” I notice a hint of surprise register on her face. “Megan wasn’t a fan of life as an army wife,” I continue. “And I had divorce papers waiting for me when I returned from my first deployment. I turned around and worked my way into Special Ops. My guys and I were a tracking team then, and we’re not just a team, but family now.”
If there’s any chance of us ending up together, it’s best she knows right off the bat how important these men are in my life.
“That explains a lot. I thought you acted more like brothers than boss and employees,” she observes.
“It’s because at the end of the day we are.”
She nods her understanding and reaches for the serving spoon in the lasagna.
“More?”
I look up at her and don’t bother to hide I want her. “I think I’m ready for dessert.”
She sucks in a breath and stares at me slack-mouthed.
“Unless that offer is off the table?” I check.
“Let me clear these off first.”
I know she’s buying time when she stacks the dishes and carries them to the kitchen. Did I scare her off? She seemed heavily invested in that kiss earlier and I wonder what suddenly has her jittery again. It’s pretty obvious, from the way she kissed me back, the idea wasn’t offensive to her.
I follow to the kitchen carrying the big pan. Her back is turned as she runs hot water in the sink, I assume to wash the dishes. Yet she has a perfectly good dishwasher right beside her.
Definitely buying time.
I slide the pan onto the stove and step close behind her. I can feel the tension coming from her body.
“What did I say?” I ask softly by her ear.
I figured that was the safest assumption. My understanding is clearly limited when it comes to the opposite sex. At least outside of the bedroom it is.
“Nothing,” she responds far too brightly. “Why would you think that?”
I wait for her to slide the dishes in the water before I put my hands on her shoulders and turn her to face me.
“Because you seemed to shut down on me when you were eagerly participating in a bout of tonsil hockey earlier.”
Her demeanor changes on a dime as her eyes shoot flames.
“Crass,” she snaps.
“Maybe. I call it straightforward. Am I misreading things here?”
