vain to aim it backward at him.
“You’re not going to win this round.” Her body squirmed against his, and his answered, much to his consternation. He pulled away so she wouldn’t have a clue to the effect she was having on him within two minutes of arriving at the ranch.
She slithered out of his arms, planting her feet and aiming the nozzle at his stomach, but blessedly, she let go of the trigger.
“I think you really need to work on your Whisper Creek welcome package, Cole.”
He put up his hands, laughing. “I’m sorry. Why are you in Decker’s truck, anyway?”
Kyla smirked and pointed at the truck bed. “Luggage. And she’s driving because she never gets the chance back in Boston.”
Cole peered in, then widened his eyes at the pile of suitcases and bags. “Exactly how long are you staying, Jess?”
“I don’t know. Kyla here thinks I should never leave.”
His stomach jumped at her words. “Never leave?”
“Yes.” She took one step closer to him, hose still pointed at his stomach. “She’s been talking all the way up here about how gorgeous it is all year round, how the ranch is just bustling with guests, how the—Driscoll brothers—are just about the sweetest things on the planet. I don’t know, though. I’m not sure I see it.”
She looked down at her dress, clinging wetly to her thighs. “No. I really, really don’t see it.” Then she looked back at him, and he could swear he saw a little devil in her eyes. “But it’s all right. I’ll give it time.”
Before he saw her hand even move, he felt the edge of the spray hit his forehead, and his Stetson flew off his head. Her face lit up when she saw the expression that must be on his, and then she bent over laughing, finally putting down the hose.
“See you at dinner, Cole.” She turned to grab a suitcase out of the truck. “And thanks for the very—original—welcome.”
An hour later, he was sitting at Ma’s kitchen table when Decker blew through the swinging doors, his face cracking into a grin when he saw Cole. “You sprayed her down with the hose? Really?”
“I didn’t spray her down. I aimed the hose at what I thought was you, and then—it wasn’t.”
“You didn’t notice that your target was five-foot-ten and gorgeous before you squeezed the trigger?”
“The trigger was already squee—” Cole pinched the bridge of his nose. “You know what? Shut up.”
Ma looked up from the bread she was slicing. “Who’s spraying who?”
Decker laughed again. “Cole. Jess.”
“What?” Ma stopped slicing. “Why in the world did you do that?”
“It was an accident. I was aiming for Decker.”
Decker elbowed Ma. “But Decker was ten miles away.”
Cole could tell Ma was trying not to laugh, but she wasn’t successful. “And how did poor Jess react?”
“Yeah, Cole.” Decker tossed a handful of peanuts into his mouth. “I’m curious, too.”
Cole pictured her in that clingy white dress, two hands on the hose trigger, aiming at him while droplets of water fell from her chin. “She handled herself.”
“Well.” Ma went back to slicing. “Let’s see if we can avoid soaking down the bridesmaids for the rest of the week, shall we?” She pointed at a pile of plates on the counter. “You two get that table set, will you? We’ve got Daniel and Hayley coming tonight, too. Cole, maybe put Jess at the other end of the table from you this time around.”
Cole grabbed the plates and handed them to Decker.
“Here. You set the table. You’ve been sitting on your butt all day up at the model home while I’ve been working my ass off.”
Ma whacked him with a spatula. “No swearing in my kitchen.”
“Sorry, Ma.”
Behind Ma’s back, Decker gave him the finger, then pushed through the doors and started clattering the plates onto the long dining room table. Cole reached into the fridge and grabbed a beer, cracking it open with Ma’s ancient under-counter Coca-Cola opener.
“You all right?” she asked.
“Why are you asking?” Cole took a draw of the cool ale, letting it slide down his parched throat.
“Well, Decker would probably use a more colorful expression, but you’re acting like a big ol’ bug crawled up into your nether regions.”
“Just tired.”
And agitated. Supremely, hugely agitated. Cole took another slug of his beer. Despite a forty-five-minute run and a cold shower, he still couldn’t get the picture of Jess in her soaked white dress and purple bra out of his damn head. All those curves and hollows, all that lusciousness, all outlined in