WayBack When by Donna Michaels
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales, is entirely coincidental. WayBack When COPYRIGHT © 2008 by Donna Michaels All rights reserved. This is an “unedited” as is title. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission of the author or The Wild Rose Press except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews. Contact Information:
[email protected] Cover Art by RJ Morris The Wild Rose Press PO Box 706 Adams Basin, NY 14410-0706 Visit us at www.thewildrosepress.com Publishing History First Yellow Rose Edition, June 2008 Free Read Published in the United States of America
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“Jensen Ballard! It’s been five years,” the Blue Bonnet Café’s head waitress gushed as a bell jingled above the door. “I heard you were back in town for the rodeo. How are you?” Kaydee Harper stiffened and nearly choked on the soda she ordered. Jensen, here, now? Bubbles attaching her tongue, she swallowed the carbonated beverage and set the class down on the counter. He’s back… “I’m fine, Martha. How are you?” Rich, and deep, the cowboy’s voice dehydrated her body, leaving her throat dry and shivers spiraling down her torso in a warm caress. An act his large, wonderful hands never pursued, despite the daily wishes and nightly prayers of her teenage years. “I’m fine too, hun,” the waitress replied. “You looking for Kaydee? She’s right over there.” Dang it! I’m taking Martha off my Christmas list. No chance of sneaking out the back now. Those sexy green eyes of his definitely shifted an intense gaze her way. The buggers heated her shoulders, prickled her neck and tightened her nipples with a need he’d never fulfill. Would she ever find a cure for Jensen fever? Probably not. She’d suffered the affliction since the age of fourteen when his rodeo champion father hooked up with her mother and introduced her to his nineteen year old son. Kaydee had never, ever, for one moment had sisterly feelings for the gorgeous, sixfoot-one brown haired cowboy. A fact her mother 1
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sensed from the start and had frowned upon until his father had left for a young groupie in New Mexico. That’s when the outright forbidding had started. “You can do better,” her mother had insisted. “He’s got the circuit in his blood and will never settle down. He’ll use you and leave you bleeding.” Kaydee knew her mother’s heartache spurred the words, but Jensen was not like his father. Why hadn’t she seen that? Every spring, he returned to help gather and bale the fields of hay at Harper’s Ranch. He didn’t have to. He certainly didn’t owe them anything, especially with her mother’s cold shoulder.. But year after year he’d return, seeming to enjoy ranch life—until five years ago when he left after only one day. Kaydee knew her mother had said something to send Jensen packing for good. Whatever it was, though, Darlene Harper had taken it to her grave and Kaydee hadn’t seen Jensen to ask. Until now. “Hello, Kaydee.” Damn those shivers. Palms sweating, heart pounding, she rose and slowly turned to face her addiction. Holy bull-riding cowboys! Broader, taller, he stood, black Stetson in his hand, gray t-shirt stretched beyond endurance across a muscled chest and torso harboring more ridges than the neighboring Texas valley. Tight jeans hugged lean hips and rippled across his thighs as he shifted his boot-clad feet. Slammed with urges, her body hovered between dehydration and flood. Liquid heat pooled at her core and throbbed with a need so strong she fought to keep from French kissing him until the cows came home. And she didn’t own any cows. 2
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“Hello, Jensen.” She cleared her throat, and because they had an audience who’d expect them to hug, Kaydee stepped to him, palmed his solid chest and kissed his newly shaven cheek. Hot dang, he smelled good! Spicy, clean, and so very male. Oh Lordy, how she missed his scent. His jokes. His presence. She missed him. Large arms wrapped around her back and squeezed. Heaven. Her heart leapt with his and she closed her eyes, silently acknowledging this was indeed where she belonged. Infatuation had been a seedling, cultivating into a full blown crop of love ready for Jensen to harvest. Did he feel it too? Accelerated, his pulse thundered under her palm. He did! But would he admit it? “Hey, kiddo, how’ve you been?” Kiddo? Her eyes snapped open. Surely I don’t resemble the scrawny eighteen-year-old from way back when he left without so much as a good-bye? She enjoyed an extra second of his delicious embrace and reluctantly drew back. “I’ve been okay. You?” “I’m good.” Green eyes darkened to Bermudagrass just before harvest and she sucked in more of his wonderful male scent. “I’m sorry about your mother. I swear I would’ve been here for you but by the time I’d heard, it was two months later.” A tanned hand hovered near her cheek before he dropped it to noisily thwack his jeans. “Thank you. It’s okay. You’re father told me about your accident.” She tenderly touched his healing shoulder. “I wish I could’ve been there for you, too.” He blinked and, heaven help her, dropped his gaze to her mouth. 3
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“It…ah…” Someone cleared their throat. Him or me? “It was a clean break. I’m fine now.” He was better than fine, but this wasn’t the place to hold that conversation. She squeezed his shoulder. “Why don’t you come by the ranch tonight? I’m making chicken and dumplings.” And home was the perfect place for their well overdue conversation. She released him but refused to step back, despite Martha’s interested glance. “Thanks.” He nodded. “I never could resist your dumplings.” Two thousand and one retorts sprang to her lips but none were appropriate for their grinning audience’s ears. She smiled, swallowed a giggle—or three—and this time, stepped back before she laid the till-the-cows-come-home lip lock on him. “Okay, then I’d better get going so I can make my dumplings irresistible.” Oh Lordy! That one slipped out. She smiled and tapped his jawslackened face. “See you around six.” ***** What the hell are you doing, Jensen? Hand poised to knock at Kaydee’s door, he silently reprimanded, his oh so tiring ‘Let her be, she deserves better’ argument resounding in his head. The white, paint-worn door jerked open to reveal the temptress from his dreams. “There you are. I was beginning to think you wanted curb service.” He would’ve replied…knew it was impolite even, but he lost his voice somewhere between her sweet rounded breasts, peeking out of a flimsy, skinnystrapped bodice. Damn. Her dumplings were indeed irresistible. Blood rushed from his head and parked straight in his groin. 4
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“Earth to Jensen?” Her soft voice filtered into his fogged mind. He blinked and cleared his throat, a common occurrence when she was near. Would he ever be cured of Kaydee sickness? “Sorry. What did you say?” He set his fork next to his untouched plate. Fork? When the hell had they sat down to dinner? Damn, Jensen. Get it together, man. She smiled a knowing little smile, leaned into the table, and heaven help him, increased her cleavage. “I said, do you like my dumplings?” Forever grateful he had nothing in his mouth to choke on or sputter, he did the smart thing and leapt to his feet. “I—I should leave.” The incorrigible woman appeared in front of him and blocked his escape with her luscious body. “Leave? But you just got here and you haven’t tasted my dumplings yet.” Head titled, hands sliding down to her hips, she smiled, a wicked gleam entering her eyes. “I thought you liked my dumplings.” Snug and merciless, his zipper tightened painfully across his groin. Damn. She didn’t play fair. He’d rather be stuck in a no exit corral, facing down an ornery bull right now, instead of sexy Kaydee Harper—alone. He closed his eyes and drew in a long breath. “Can we please stop talking about your dumplings?” “But I spent all day preparing them for you.” Warm hands skimmed his arms to rest on his chest. “Kaydee!” His eyes snapped open and he swallowed a groan. “Look, it’s just best that I go.” He stepped around and stomped toward the door. “Why? Because there’s no one here to buffer the attraction between us?” Shit! He halted and slowly turned. Laughter gone, her serious gaze latched tight. 5
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“You know how I feel about you. I never hid it from you.” That was half the problem. Just knowing the girl he harbored feelings for felt the same was bittersweet. He had to constantly remind himself of her age for she always seemed older. “I’m not a child anymore. I’m twenty. Three. Years. Old,” she said with deliberate pauses, forcing him backward until his shoulders met the door. “It’s okay to touch me. See?” Cripes! Soft, curves pressed into him, pitting her lips a mere inch away. Be one with the door. Be one with the door. “Oh no! Jensen. We touched. Something bad is going to happen.” Her supple form rubbed up and down. Be one with Kaydee. No! Be one with the door…one with the door. “See? We’re older. We can’t get in trouble.” Then why did he hear sirens? Oh…that was blood rushing through his ears. He clenched his fists and attempted to be noble. “I promised—” “Promised, who?” She cut him off, her delicate brows arching under sun-kissed bangs. “My mother?” Careful not to nod because their lips would touch, he drew in air and swallowed. Delectable. Friction from her nipples brushing his chest, heated his spine. She was so sinfully perfect. He cleared his throat and did his utmost to stick with the conversation. “Yes. She wanted the best for you.” “Ah, damn it, Jensen!” A solid finger poked his chest, hard. “You are what’s best for me. And I know you find me attractive. This is living proof.” Bold fingers curled around his jean-clad erection. “Shit! Kaydee!” His head snapped back and smacked the door as he grabbed her wicked wrist 6
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and stopped her tormenting touch. “Are you crazy?” “Yes. About you, cowboy,” she said. “I even told mother but shouldn’t have because she said something to make you leave me.” He stared into the most beautiful pair of watery brown eyes. “God, Kaydee. I didn’t want to go. I love you. But your mother was right. You deserved someone you could count on—who’d stick around. Someone better than me.” A single tear slid down her face. “You love me?” “Yes. Heaven knows I tried not to. I wanted to feel brotherly toward you, wanted to protect you but…” he paused and wiped her soft skin. She was so damn beautiful. “I couldn’t help wanting you. Your mother showed me the door when she figured it out.” “I’m sorry.” “Don’t be.” His thumb brushed away more tears. “She was right. I’m my father’s son. You can do better.” “Bullshit.” “What?” “You heard me. Bullshit.” Gaze stormy, she lifted her chin and poked his chest again. “How did eight seconds on the toughest bull compare to life here with me on this ranch?” Damn, she didn’t play fair. He was going to have to lie. “I want the truth, cowboy.” She planted a hand over his thundering heart. “Well?” Too damn clever… He growled. “It didn’t.” “Why not?” Her palm pressed harder. “Because I had the best time of my life living here on the ranch.” “Why?” “Kaydee!” He pushed out of her grasp and stomped across the room. “Don’t Kaydee me. Answer the question. You 7
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need to admit this to yourself. You enjoyed living in Wayback, not just because of me. Go on, say it.” “Fine. All right. I admit it.” He tossed his hands in the air. “I enjoyed living here. For the first time in my life I didn’t have to travel; eat out of cans; spend holidays on the road.” He ran a slow hand across the smooth fireplace mantle, recalling the unimaginable thrill at hanging a stocking Kaydee had glittered his name on. “Here in Wayback I had a stable life. An actual bed. My own room. Home cooked meals. Chores. Was surrounded by fields, grass, a purpose. I had a…home.” Kaydee slipped in front of him, soft fingers cupped his face, and forced him to stare into her warm gaze. “All the things your father hates. Don’t you see? You are not your father’s son. And I love you very much.” A thrill surpassing the hanging stocking shook his body. “Kaydee, I…” he sucked in a breath. “I’m a rodeo bum. What if I get the urge to leave? You can do b—” “Don’t you dare spout that crap again.” She punched his arm. “We’ve already been through this, but fine. Did you really leave me behind the past five years?” Damn clever. He rubbed his shoulder. “No. Every town, every rodeo, I saw you and longed to come back.” For two years he’d tried to forget her and this damn town, burying himself in a bottle, groupies, the circuit. Didn’t work. He cleaned up his act, concentrated on the bulls and purse, building himself a nest egg for… “That’s why you returned every spring.” Her voice was but a whisper. “Not to ‘help us out’, but because you wanted to be here. You missed this life.” “Yes.” Now his voice was barely audible. “Then tell me, cowboy.” She jammed her hands 8
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on her hips, emphasizing those lovely curves. “How do you feel about hay?” “Hay?” He blinked. “I like hay.” “Good because I’m looking for a partner.” She swayed closer. Jensen gulped. “Kaydee…what are you saying?” “I need someone to help me with the fields. To share the chores, my home…my life. How ‘bout it, cowboy?” Toe to toe, she stopped, supple body brushing ever so slightly against him. “You interested?” “God yes, I’m interested.” He cupped her face, hardly daring to breath. “You’re willing to share all that…to take a chance on me despite knowing how your mother felt or that my rambling father’s blood is in my veins?” “Absolutely. I love you and you love me. Your heart lies in Wayback and I’m fixing to keep it here. So what do you say, Jensen Ballard, you willing to stay in Wayback and let me make an honest man of you?” His breath mingled with hers as he brushed his lips over her soft, quivering mouth.. “Yes, Kaydee Harper. I’m willing, ready, and beyond able.” One hand on her hip, the other cupping the back of her head, he kissed her long and deep, savoring the sweet feel and taste of unconditional love. He’d never grow tired of this woman. She moaned and ground into him, touching her tongue to his. Desire and need throbbed through his body, accelerating his pulse faster than any old bull. When they broke for air, he tucked her against his chest and stroked her clinging form. Peace, like none he’d ever experienced before, settled over him strong and deep. Apparently feeling it too, she patted him and sighed. “Welcome home, Jensen. This is where you belong. I knew it way back when.” 9
