07 It Had to Be You Read online

But she backed away. “You should go.”

  “What? Why?”

  “Because I need to think.”

  “About…?”

  “About all this. About you. About me. The way I throw myself in heart first.”

  He stared at her, suddenly knowing where this was going.

  “It’s just me,” she said. “Throwing myself in without looking. It’s how I work, even knowing I’m going to sink like a stone. And I’d do that here, with you, but Jake, I can’t be the only one.”

  She already knew him that well, knew he’d never throw himself in and follow his heart.

  “I think your idea of taking our time was a good one,” she said softly.

  Caught by his own damn logic.

  “Good-night, Jake.” She smiled when he continued to stare at her, befuddled. “Say good-night back.”

  What choice did he have? He wanted her, so badly he could hardly see straight, but he couldn’t promise to toss his heart in for the ride, and hell if he’d lie to her. His body came free, no vows, no ties. But even an untried heart such as his knew that love came at a price, a heavy one.

  And he wasn’t willing to pay. “Good-night, Callie.”

  She stood there looking at him, skin glowing, eyes soft. Her nipples were still hard beneath her camisole. He closed his eyes, stepped to the door. “Lock it behind me.”

  The sound of the lock tumbling into place echoed into the night.

  12

  The next morning, Amy made a large breakfast for the cheerleaders before their expedition out to some historic Apache sites. Having been spoiled by the Japanese businessmen who’d eaten every crumb she’d cooked, she was shocked when all the dishes came back with much of the food left over.

  Marge laughed at her concern, saying it wasn’t the food but the carb content in it. The cheerleaders were all fit and lean, so that made no sense to Amy, but the following morning she experimented with Marge’s suggestions, and served eggs and lean bacon with no toast or muffins. It all vanished.

  Seemed she’d have to be flexible. No problem, she’d been born flexible. She politely thanked Marge, who shocked the hell out of her by ignoring her hands-off aura and giving her a warm hug in return.

  That night Amy stood in the kitchen cleaning up after a light chicken stew. Happy chatter came through the walls from the dining room. The guys had all made a point to be around for dinner the last few nights—big surprise given who their guests were, but she didn’t mind.

  Humming, she scrubbed the stovetop and the floor, and whatever else needed a good cleaning. It took her a while to recognize that she was enjoying herself.

  Callie had asked her to join the dinner group but she’d declined, and she didn’t regret that. It gave her comfort to work in peace without having to socialize, while knowing the house was full and she wasn’t alone. Plus, she felt partly responsible for those people enjoying themselves out there, and that felt good, too.

  She knew when she turned to clean out the already spotless refrigerator that she was merely delaying the moment when she’d have to go back to her empty cabin.…

  But that lingering fear made her mad, mad enough that she put down her sponge, straightened her aching back, and headed resolutely to the back door.

  No more fear.

  That had been her promise to herself, and she’d nearly forgotten it, damn it. She was eighteen, a legal adult. Sure, her father could find her if he tried hard enough, but he couldn’t make her come home as he’d been able to all the other times.

  Knowing that, she headed out into the night, but her feet faltered on the grass, and not just because Goose showed up out of nowhere looking to chase her. Her cabin was dark, too dark. And inside it, waiting for her, were her nightmares.

  Lifting her chin, she turned and headed toward the barn instead. Goose watched her closely but since Amy stepped off the grass, the bossy creature didn’t try to block her path. Amy rewarded her with a pat on the head, then let herself into the barn. She wanted to touch the horses, wanted to put her hand on a warm flank and be in the company of a living thing that couldn’t talk, demand, yell, hit…couldn’t do anything but just be.

  She turned on the lights and smiled when a few of the horses blinked balefully at her. A few more stuck their heads out to see if she’d brought them a treat from the kitchen, as she’d done several times before.

  “Shh,” she said to her audience. “I’m not supposed to be here.” She offered a sugar cube to Sierra, and then to Moe, who though quiet and a little distant, happily crunched on the treat. Homer, Tucker’s much friendlier horse, bumped her arm with his nose. Smiling for the first time all day, she gave him one, too, then took a nice deep breath, feeling herself start to relax as his soft muzzle tickled her palm. “I wish I knew how to ride you.”

  “All you have to do is ask.”

  With a soft scream she whipped around, her entire handful of sugar cubes scattering at her feet. Tucker stood in the shadow of the doorway watching her, his hat low enough that she couldn’t see his expression. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “I wasn’t doing anything, I just wanted…” She trailed off awkwardly when he took a step closer.

  He was tall, built like an athlete, and as she knew, from the day she’d flipped him to the floor, beneath those jeans and T-shirt was a hard body complete with harder muscles and a strength that she couldn’t come close to matching if he wanted to exert his. Remembering that morning still horrified her, but damn it, he’d scared her. He was scaring her now, too. She backed up a step and came in close personal contact with Homer’s stall door. The padlock gouged into her back and her fists tightened.

  “You just wanted what?” he asked.

  She blinked at the unexpected smile in his voice, unable to speak with the fear and anger and frustration that was one big unswallowable lump in her throat.

  “Amy?”

  Why was his voice so gentle? He came close and she flinched back, but all he did was tip his hat back on his head as his smile faded. “Couple of things,” he said quietly. “First of all, if you keep jumping guiltily every time someone so much as looks at you, someone’s going to think you did something wrong.”

  “I didn’t.”

  “Which is my point,” he said patiently. “And second—”

  A lecture. She was good at those. She studied her shoes and prepared to wait it out.

  But he broke off and just looked at her for a long moment. “I don’t expect you to believe me,” he finally said. “But no one working here has ever hurt another soul. Not Callie, not Marge or Lou. Not Eddie or Stone. And not me. I never would. Sierra, stop it.” The horse had stuck her head out from her stall and was searching his pockets. Absently Tucker rubbed her nose. “I didn’t bring anything for you. I didn’t expect to come out here.”

  “So why did you?” Amy asked.

  “Saw the light. Was wondering who was where they didn’t belong and why.”

  “I forgot you told me not to come out here.”

  “No, you didn’t.” He stroked beneath Homer’s chin now, who snorted in pleasure. “You just don’t like rules. You’ve probably had too many that don’t make sense. I meant what I said about not getting hurt by anyone here.”

  She felt her face heat, and mortified, she looked away.

  Leaving plenty of space between them, Tucker leaned back against the stall door next to her. Something crunched beneath his boot and he lifted it to see. “Ah.” He bent for an uncrushed sugar cube.

  Sierra’s head stretched out as far as she could get it, and Amy let out a little laugh at the hopeful expression on the horse’s face. Tucker fed Sierra the cube, but kept his eyes on Amy. “A laugh. I don’t think I’ve heard that from you before.”

  Her heart, which had just finally slowed down its painful race, took off again. She looked away, wondering when he’d leave.

  He didn’t, nor did he say anything for a long time. “Life’s pretty simple out here. We’re a tight-knit group. Friends. We trust on