Backlash Tender Trap Aftermath - Lisa Jackson Page 0,167

not expecting you.”

Ramming his hands into the back pockets of his jeans, he focused an intense gaze on her and crossed the small space separating them. “Things have changed between us, Cass.”

“Have they?” She thought about making wonderful love to him in the straw, and blushed like a schoolgirl. “Yes, I suppose they have.” She began to twist her fingers in the folds of her skirt, and she mentally shook herself, kept her hands steady and tilted her face to his. “So where do we go from here?”

“I wish I knew.” As if unable to help himself, he cupped her determined chin. Her skin quivered, and she knew that if she didn’t leave now, she wouldn’t be able to.

“So do I,” she admitted, stepping away, needing time and space to think. Years ago she’d rushed things, chased him with all the foolishness of a teenage girl in the throes of puppy love, and she wasn’t about to play the fool again—not even for Colton.

“Are you going to the Edwards’s party?” he asked as she reached the door.

“I have to. Command performance.”

He smiled at her irreverence. “Would you go with me?”

“I’d like it very much,” she admitted.

“Then I’ll pick you up at seven.”

Nodding, she pushed open the door and called over her shoulder, “I’ll see you later.”

“You can count on it.”

She climbed into her pickup and glanced at her reflection in the rearview mirror. Twinkling hazel eyes returned her stare, and her heart pounded crazily in her chest. Time and distance wouldn’t matter much, she realized, because, like it or not, she was in love.

* * *

She didn’t see Colton for two days. Though she dropped by the ranch several times to check on Black Magic and Tempest, she never caught a glimpse of Denver McLean’s younger brother. Milly explained that he had “business in town,” Curtis was evasive but polite, and Cassie couldn’t help thinking that Colton might be trying to give her a hint. Had the love they’d shared been a mistake—just like before?

Though wounded, she hid her feelings and went about her job. Black Magic was recovering well. His temperature had dropped to normal and his abscess had matured. Cassie drained the abscess, then cleaned the cavity with a mild antiseptic solution. Black Magic didn’t like her ministrations much and tried to nip her.

Tempest seemed to have turned the corner, but his recovery was much slower than Black Magic’s, and the yearling was following the path of Tempest. Cassie was worried about those two horses because of the threat of complications such as pneumonia or, more rarely, abscesses in the internal organs. She crossed her fingers as she left the old foaling shed and started for her pickup. Unwittingly she scanned the near-empty yard for Colton’s Jeep.

Was he avoiding her? He hadn’t called, nor stopped by. Maybe he regretted making love to her. And perhaps his change of heart was for the best.

Frowning, she drove home and parked near the garage, wedging her truck into the small space left between Vince Monroe’s pickup and Ryan Ferguson’s motorcycle.

She wasn’t in the mood to face either of the two men, but she had no choice, she supposed, as she climbed out of the cab. Erasmus streaked out of the kitchen, yipping at the sight of her and bounding across the yard. He jumped up, placed huge muddy paws against her skirt and barked.

“It’s good to see you, too,” Cassie said, eyeing the dirty streaks on her skirt. “Come on, let’s see what’s going on.”

With Erasmus bounding at her heels, Cassie climbed the back steps and shoved open the door. Inside, the men had gathered around the kitchen table. Newspapers, coffee cups and ashtrays covered the scarred surface. Smoke drifted to the ceiling, and all conversation stopped abruptly. Three sets of eyes turned toward her, and she felt as if she, in the very house where she’d grown up, was an intruder.

“Am I interrupting?” she asked, and her father waved her question aside.

“’Course not.”

Vince Monroe cast her a cursory glance. “Evening, Cassie,” he drawled, scraping back his chair and standing.

Always the gentleman, Cassie thought uneasily, noticing that Ryan hadn’t bothered getting to his feet. Not that she cared. His eyes followed her, and he inclined his head, though he didn’t move the one booted foot propped against her favorite chair. A cigarette dangled from the corner of his mouth, and smoke curled lazily over his head. His helmet sat on the floor next to him, and an insolent smile curved his