Page 50 of Love’s Silver Bullet

Properly chastened, Jake offered an apologetic tone. “Sorry, Half-Pint. And let me just say for the record—so are you, because it’s a mighty nice thing you’re doing tutoring those kids when you could be spending your last summer home just having fun. Whoa!” He pulled up in front of Kathy Jean’s house and hopped out, ready to lift her down.

Fiddling with a small velvet clip purse, she slipped the silver chain over her shoulder, then dropped it to the floor when she reached to pick up her umbrella. “Oh, drat,” she whispered, retrieving the purse to sling it over her shoulder once again. Face beet red, she avoided his eyes as she turned to offer Jake her hands.

“You okay, Half-Pint?” he asked, face crimped as he extended his arms.

Those blue eyes met his just as he grabbed her, and the longing he saw in them jolted him clean to the bottom of his soles, flashing his body with a dangerous heat he hadn’t felt since the day she had kissed him.

Suddenly aware she was dangling mid-air, he dropped her so fast, she teetered like a round-bottomed doll, ready to topple. He grabbed her arms to steady her and wished he could do the same for his heart when it lurched in his chest. “Sher, I’m so sorry. Are you all right?”

“No, I’m not, Jake,” she whispered in a mournful tone, “and I think you know why.”

Another flash of heat scorched his body, but this one gorged his cheeks with blood as well when he stumbled back, avoiding her eyes. “I’ll pick you up at five-ten sharp,” he said in a gruff tone, jaw hard as he mounted the wagon and snatched up the reins.

“Oh, and, Jake, just for the record?” Her voice wobbled with emotion as he spared her a sideways glance, her chin trembling despite the firm jut of her jaw. “I’m sorry too.”

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

Sheridan shot a nervous glance over her shoulder as she, Kathy Jean, and Sophia hurried to make their nine o’clock appointment with Clay, never more grateful that the lot for the Wild West Show tents were well beyond the city limits, on the far edge of town.

Opposite the blacksmith, thank God!

“Eeeeek! I can’t believe your uncle said you could stay with me each week,” Kathy Jean said with a squeal, rushing to keep up with Sophia’s long-legged stride while their friend all but dragged Sheridan toward the Wild West arena. A giggle popped from Kathy Jean’s lips. “I am soooo excited!”

Me too. Sheridan bit her lip. I think. After all, the sooner she could get Clay to kiss her, the sooner she could make Jake jealous. Right? She stumbled along with Sophia, her brown twill—and most serviceable—dress fluttering in the breeze along with the feather on Kathy Jean’s hat. Sophia had shaken her head when she’d seen Sheridan’s choice of attire, berating her for not wearing something more feminine that matched the blue of her eyes. But Sheridan figured she’d be aiming for a target—not a man—so she wanted to be comfortable when Clay taught her to shoot.

Clay. She swallowed hard as she stared at the city of tents sprawled at the foot of the mountain range. They bloomed along with a scrubby collection of cactus and tumbleweed on rocky fields scattered with wildflowers. Beyond it all, the Sierra Nevada mountains stood guard, a majestic sentinel that for some reason always made Sheridan feel safe.

Except for today. With Clay Morgan. She gulped as Sophia nimbly dodged a rut blooming with spikes of pigweed.

“So, how many nights can you stay at my house each week?” Kathy Jean continued, one hand pinned to her small straw hat to make sure it stayed on. “Two or three?”

“Two—” Sheridan began.

“No, three,” Sophia quickly amended as she towed Sheridan along.

Kathy Jean clapped. “Oh, goody! “For how long?”

“For a week or two I gue—”

“Till she leaves for college,” Sophia interrupted, evidently intent on getting Sheridan that kiss and then some.

Giving a little whoop, Kathy Jean did a little jig in between strides, her calico dress blowing in the wind when she raced to catch up. “We will have so much fun!”

Sophia shot a grin over her shoulder with a waggle of brows that reminded Sheridan way too much of Lolita. “But not as much as Clay,” she quipped, immediately dusting Sheridan’s cheeks with a warmth that almost made her turn around. Instead she dug her heels into the dirt, effectively bringing her friend to a dusty halt.

“Sophia Maria Lopez!” Out of breath, Sheridan splayed a hand to her chest. “For the love of all that’s decent, it’s hard enough to do this without remarks like that, scaring me half to death.”

Sophia whirled around with hands on her hips, impatiently tapping a toe. “Look, chica, do you want to make Jake jealous or not?”

“Of course I do,” Sheridan said with a heft of her chin that matched Sophia’s to a tilt, “but I don’t know why a kiss has to be involved. Why can’t we just make Jake jealous by having Clay teach me to shoot?”

“Ay-ay-ay!” Sophia threw her hands in the air with a shake of her head. She thrust a finger in the air. “One, you are a sheltered innocent who could certainly use the practice in kissing and two”—a second finger popped up—“teaching you to shoot will make Jake mad, yes, but not enough to push him into your arms since he does not want to teach you in the first place. And three,” she said with a lift of both her brow and a third finger, “Jake knows you will be leaving in a month anyway, so he might choose to bide his time rather than make time, chica.” She leaned in, her points underscored with a squint of black eyes. “By sicking Blaze and your uncle on you instead.”

Sheridan blinked, a little disappointed that Sophia’s logic made some sense, which was unusual in and of itself.

“Ah, but a kiss?” Sophia crossed her palms over her heart with a comical roll of eyes. “Now that can kindle a spark of jealousy, which can then ignite the flames of love in Jake’s soul, fanning them into an inferno.”

Slapping a hand to her bodice, Sheridan flapped the front of her dress for air, pretty sure Jake’s soul wouldn’t be the only thing on fire. “O-kaaay, then I hope it doesn’t take forever because we all know it isn’t Clay Morgan I want to win over.”