Jackson glanced at her. “Damn it. Keep your head-” He glanced back at the road and swore again, jerking the steering wheel to the right.
The sharp swerve sent her over the dash, her head poised above Jackson ’s crotch.
“Crazy driver, pick a lane and stay in it…”
He continued to mutter while Lori tried not to notice the way his worn jeans outlined his powerful thighs and the bulge between his legs.
She closed her eyes, and an image sneaked into her brain of her skimming her hands down his hard belly and him urging her on.
Lori started to sweat. Giving her head a small shake, she told herself she definitely needed to move.
Jackson abruptly stopped muttering and swearing, prompting her to steal a glance up at him.
He met her gaze, then she felt his gaze linger on her mouth, causing her lips to feel burned.
“Now, that’s a sight I won’t forget for a long time.”
Chapter Nine
“Sometimes you have to take a step backward to know which direction you want to go forward.”
– SUNNY COLLINS
“Here we are,” Jackson said as he turned onto a dirt road.
Lori looked at the battered sign for the ranch and a wave of nostalgia mixed with apprehension. She remembered arriving at the ranch during her college years and how quickly she’d felt at home here. Her father’s name hadn’t mattered. Nor had her mother’s notorious love life. Her willingness to work and her ability with the horses and children had earned her acceptance by the rest of the staff.
She thought of Skip Dawson and felt a stab of loss at the wise, gentle man with a deadpan sense of humor. She’d often laughed at his puns because they’d been so dreadfully corny. Now he was gone. “Why do the good ones have to die?” she murmured.
“What?” Jackson asked.
She glanced at him and shook her head. “I was thinking of the owner, Skip, and wondering why good people seem to leave too quickly.”
Slowing, he pulled to a stop and looked at her for a long moment. “You liked Skip.”
She nodded. “He was the best. He was like a second father to me when I was here at the ranch.” She paused, feeling another pang of loss. “I haven’t been close to that many people.” She shook her head, feeling her throat tighten. “I don’t like losing the good ones, the important ones.”
“Like Skip,” he said.
“And Daddy and Momma, and for a long, long time, my sisters.”
“What do you mean your sisters?”
“Daddy wouldn’t let me contact my sisters or my momma after he took me away from her. He was afraid I would turn out like her or Delilah or Katie Priss.”
He shook his head and gave a low whistle. “Did they go to jail? Were they prostitutes or murderers? What was so bad about them? You told me about the letters from your mother, but not about your sisters.”
“I lost them for over ten years,” she murmured. “He was afraid I would become a floozy like my mother. And he thought Delilah was nothing but trouble.”
“What about your older sister?”
“Guilty by association. She was pure as the driven snow. He tried to make up for it, but I couldn’t help feeling like a part of me had been amputated.” A familiar guilt trickled through her, making her stomach hurt. She’d been the lucky one. Her sisters’ childhoods had been much more difficult than hers. She took a deep breath and forced a smile. “I’m being silly. I’ve lived like a princess. I have no room for whining.”
She bit her lip, wishing she hadn’t blurted her feelings to Jackson. Of all people, he probably wouldn’t understand. It was clear that he thought she was spoiled and unreasonable. She looked away, hoping he would take the hint and finish the drive to the ranch.
His hand on her arm took her by surprise. She automatically turned to look at him. He slid his fingers up to cup her jaw. “You’re a screwy little mix, Lori. You pick the strangest things to kick yourself for. When it comes to parents, we all get the luck of the draw. When we grow up, life’s what we make it.” His eyes gentled. “You feel like an orphan no matter when your parents die. You’re left behind to deal with your life on your own. That’s all understandable, but it’s better to have had someone terrific in your life even if you lose them.”
Surprised at his expression of sympathy, she held his gaze and felt a wave of deep understanding flow between them. “Better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all.”
“Something like that,” he said and cracked a smile. “In your case, better to have been loved and lost than never to have been loved at all.”
His sympathy touched her. She leaned toward him and brushed her lips over his cheek. “Thanks.”
“For what?” he asked, looking surprised.
“For being nice,” she said with a shrug.
His lips twitched, and he turned back to the steering wheel and put the car in gear. “Don’t get used to it,” he said in a gruff voice.
She wondered what experience had made him adopt his philosophy. She wondered what his family life had been like. “You know, we haven’t talked much about your family,” she ventured.
“That’s right. And there’s no need to change that now.”
“It’s not fair that you know almost everything about me and I know nothing about you.”
“You know enough. You know I’m your accountant and you can trust me not to give in to your wiles to get more money and you can trust me to find a temporary husband to meet your specifications. You can trust me to look out for your best interests, because your best interests are my best interests.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It’s still not fair.”
“Fair enough,” he said firmly and pulled to a stop in a graveled parking lot close to the main ranch house.
“What’s your mother like?”
“She’s a hard worker. Always has been. Always had to be.” He muttered the last part under his breath.
“And your father?”
His eyes narrowed, and she saw a dozen emotions come and go in his gaze. “Undependable. Sometimes there, but usually not. Sometimes working, but usually not. It would have been easier if he hadn’t been around at all. Then my mother and brother wouldn’t hope he would come through when he didn’t.”
“Oh,” she said, at a loss.
“Yeah, oh,” he echoed, meeting her gaze. His facial features were neutral, but the way his hands clenched the steering wheel revealed his anger. “Aren’t you glad you asked?”
“Yes and no,” she said, knowing she was treading on eggshells. “Yes, because it makes me understand you a little better. No, because the subject is obviously a painful one for you.”
“Painful,” he mocked. “You have to give a damn in order to feel pain. I don’t.”
It might have been wiser to let it go at that. There was really no need to disagree with him, but Lori had glimpsed his honesty. She skimmed her fingers down his arm to his still-clenched fingers on the steering wheel. “I think I feel some damn right about here,” she said gently, rubbing the tense tendons in his right hand.
His eyes darkened with an emotion that made her feel a little nervous. She almost retracted her hand and her statement, but she had the odd sensation of playing truth or dare, and if she didn’t take the dare, then he would never respect her. She would Super Glue her lips together before she confessed, but she wanted Jackson ’s respect in a big way.
His right jaw twitched once, twice, and he narrowed his eyes as if he were trying to sustain the anger but was having a tough time. He cleared his throat and took a deep breath. “I’ve never heard anyone suggest that my hands had some damn in them,” he said.
“Well, they do. Look at them,” she said, but his hands were relaxed now. “Okay, well, they did have some damn in them.”