Riding the storm - By Julie Miller Page 0,58

out there,” he pointed out after a long silence.

Jolene turned her head to listen. She’d been so caught up in her time with Nate—that she’d momentarily forgotten about the wrath of Damon blowing its way across the countryside. She could still hear the rain hitting the roof, but she no longer felt the wind pummeling the house or roaring through the rafters. The air pressure had changed, too. Maybe it was only psychological, but she sensed the atmosphere lightening up, easing its hold over the elements.

And in direct contrast, Jolene’s heart grew heavy. Maybe it was just exhaustion. Nate was putting her to sleep, massaging the back of her neck with one hand. And maybe it was something more. She’d run a gamut of emotions today, but one remained, startlingly clear.

She liked Nate Kellison. A lot. She wanted him. Needed him. He’d awakened both her heart and her body.

And there’d be no reason for him to stay once the storm had passed.

“You okay?” he asked, misinterpreting her silence.

Jolene snuggled closer, postponing the inevitable. “You really do have magic hands, Nate Kellison.”

She drifted off to sleep, secure against the warmth of Nate’s broad chest. Little Joaquin settled, too, equally at home beneath the large, gentle hand of the California cowboy who had melted his mother’s heart

And would surely break it when he left her to go back home.

CHAPTER NINE

THE SUNSHINE HURT his eyes.

Nate squinted against the morning light and surveyed what was left of the Double J ranch. Most notably, he assessed the bull pen. A chunk of Jolene’s barn roof was lying across a section of demolished fence rail, and there was no bull in sight. Branches and fences were damaged or down everywhere. A lake, left by Damon flooded the lowlands off to the west, and the road beyond the Double J’s main gate was nonexistent beneath a wash of mud and standing water.

When Texas staged a disaster, they did it up right. After everything he’d seen the past twenty-four hours, he’d been ready to think the sun never shone in this part of the country.

Jolene walked up behind him on the front porch. “Oh, this is not good.”

Nate quickly amended his opinion on Texas sunshine. He’d never failed to see it in the beautiful smile of one spunky, blue-eyed mom-to-be.

“Not good at all,” he agreed. His mood seemed to lighten just by having her stand beside him. “It’s hard to know where to start cleaning up.”

She wore clothes today that emphasized her slender height and actually showed off a bit of her figure, and had pulled her hair back into one long braid that highlighted the graceful column of her neck. Maternity jeans hugged her rump and thighs. She’d left the bottom button of her royal blue tailored blouse unfastened to accommodate her protruding belly. With her arms crossed in front of her, pushing her breasts up, she created a lush silhouette of femininity that stirred a decidedly masculine response in him.

How could she ever think a man couldn’t find her attractive? Wouldn’t want to kiss her? Wouldn’t move heaven and earth to make love to her?

Not for the first time, Nate wondered about Jolene’s relationship with her husband. He only knew that the man had been sick and had tragically died before the two of them could enjoy creating a life and future together. But what about before that? Had her husband courted her? Sent her flowers? Said pretty things? Or had he just taken advantage of Jolene’s bighearted instincts to give of herself without regard for herself? It burned in Nate’s gut to think that this Joaquin Angel had had sex with Jolene, yet not shown her the joys of making love.

Hell. His gut wasn’t thrilled with the idea of anyone making love to Jolene. Well, anyone but him.

Squeezing his eyes shut, Nate turned his face to the sky. He had no business feeling possessive or jealous or resentful about any of this. Jolene wasn’t his. Judging the way her husband had loved her wasn’t his concern.

“I feel like we’re surrounded by a medieval moat.”

Jolene’s take on the condition of her ranch rightly pulled him back to less personal thoughts.

“You don’t happen to have a drawbridge you can let down to get us out of here, do you?” she asked.

“Not on me.” Nate checked one of the porch’s posts before leaning against it. “If the Agua Dulce’s flooded to the south, then every slough and tributary feeding into it is backed up, too. It could take