Page 72 of Love’s Silver Bullet

But his glances were never furtive, seeking her out alone. His smiles were never clandestine, meant for her eyes alone. And his attention was never directed her way, for her heart alone.

Her breathing shallowed as she fixed her gaze on his handsome face, willing him to glance up and give her some sense of connection, no matter how remote. Certainly their letters had deepened their friendship considerably, leading her to believe they’d made great strides in deepening their connection as well. And, yet, in three whole days, he’d given her nothing more than casual association without so much as a whiff of flirtation, along with a Christmas gift of stationery and a silver ink pen.

Oh, Jake! Moisture stung at the back of her lids as the clock struck ten. Please, I need more …

And lowering her head to press another kiss to Shaylee’s head, Sheridan knew she couldn’t leave without it.

“Now that’s the kind of Christmas gift I like,” Aiden bellowed, leaning back with a smug tug of his vest, a rare chess win over Finn putting a broad smile on his face.

“Congratulations, Aiden.” Finn stood to extend a handshake, which Aiden promptly pumped with a satisfied chuckle while a collective groan rose on the other side of the hearth.

“Read ’em and weep,” Jake said with a proud show of his hand that obviously earned him the lucrative pot of money in the middle of the table.

Issuing a loud moan, Blaze threw his cards down along with everyone else, shaking his head as he delivered a begrudging smile. “I swear, Sullivan, you are one lucky stiff.”

Sheridan’s mouth slanted. “Stiff” being the operative word, at least when it came to any intimate interaction. And as far as luck? She stifled a grunt. The “lucky stiff” was about to run out.

Because no way was Sheridan leaving without a kiss from Jake Sullivan. The last few had carried her through almost three months, so she’d need at least three or four more to get her through the next five until she was back home for the summer.

“Okay, woman, it’s time to head up.” Shooting a telling glance at Aunt Libby over his shoulder, Uncle Finn pushed in his chair with a tired smile. “Before you have to carry me. Because losing plum tuckers a man out.” He slapped Aiden on the back with a wink. “As your father knows all too well.”

Sheridan’s heart stuttered when chairs scraped away from the table on the other side of the room, the poker game obviously taking its toll too. Dash gave a lazy stretch over his head. “Dad-burn-it, Sullivan. I’ll have to work an extra shift to make up for tonight’s loss.” He slapped Jake on the back with a cocky grin. “Which I’ll handily make up, no doubt, at this week’s game at the Ponderosa,” he said with a wink, referencing Jake’s, Blaze’s, and Dash’s weekly competitions in cards or pool before Dash clocked in.

“No doubt,” Blaze said with a wide yawn as he pushed in his chair, it being common knowledge that Dash was now the card sharp of the family due to frequent play with Angus and Gert, while Blaze was the pool hustler. “But only because Gert and Angus won’t be there.”

“Come on, Shay,” Sheridan whispered as she gently jostled her sister awake. “It’s time to go to bed, sweetheart.”

Uncle Finn bent to pick Shay up, grunting as he carefully laid her over his shoulder. “I’ll carry her, Sher.” He bent to press a kiss to Sheridan’s cheek. “So good to have you home, sweetheart, but you best head up, too, since you’ve got an early morning.”

“Yes, sir,” she said with a quick side hug, wishing for the umpteenth time she didn’t have to leave. “But I’ve got a hankering for a quick bite of Angus’s cobbler before I head up, Uncle Finn, since there’s nothing like it back East.”

“Okay, sweetheart. See you in the morning.” He headed toward the door, glancing back to give his wife a wry smile as she dawdled with hugs for her mother and Maggie. “Libby, get a move on, darlin’, or I’ll lock you out.” He flopped a back-handed wave. “G’night, all.”

Rushing over to give Sheridan a hug goodnight, Libby rolled her eyes. “Humph! As if a lock would keep me out. See you in the morning, sweetheart.” She paused to cradle Sheridan’s face in her hands, eyes misty. “It’s been so good having you home again, Sheridan. We miss you terribly.”

“Me too, Aunt Libby,” Sheridan whispered, battling a mist of tears as well.

“No crying!” Maggie warned with a stern finger, a telltale sheen giving her dead away as she squeezed Sheridan in a hug. “There’ll be enough of that in the morning. Good night, Sher.”

By the time the ladies moved toward the door, Maeve and Aiden were following along with Gert, for their final night at the ranch just like Sheridan.

Blaze caught up with Maggie, hooking an arm to her waist as he tossed Jake a yawn over his shoulder. “Sleep in Sully, because we’ll see Sher off first thing at eight, then head out to the west pasture after to move some cows.”

“Sounds good, Boss.” Jake pushed his chair in and lifted a hand in a wave on his way to the door. “I’ll lock the front door behind me.”

Heart pounding, Sheridan jumped up, grateful the rest of the crew were already halfway up the staircase. Peeking around the parlour entryway, she waited until they disappeared, then bolted for the doorway through which Jake had just left. With a jerk of her coat off the coat rack, she sneaked out the door, quietly closing it behind her. Her pulse surged when she saw he was halfway to the bunkhouse.

“Jake!” Her call was a strangled cry, desperate to stop him before he reached the bunkhouse. She thought she saw him stiffen before he appeared to pick up his pace. In one erratic beat of her heart, her three days—and three months—of frustration bubbled up into an anger so bold, she didn’t give a hoot whether he entered the bunkhouse or not.

She would talk to Jake Sullivan tonight—and in front of a bunkhouse of cowhands in their underwear, if need be. Hiking her skirts up, she broke into a sprint, reaching the bunkhouse just as the door closed in her face. Without the slightest compunction, she slammed it back open, causing it to ricochet off the wall with a resounding bang.

“Jake Sullivan—I need to talk to you,” she shouted, not a bit put off by the bug-eyed looks of him and a bunkhouse of men. Ignoring the blood gorging his face and hers, she thrust her chin up with a tight fold of arms, not giving a whit what he or anyone else thought because she was done being patient. She stomped her foot. “And I mean now, mister!”

CHAPTER FORTY-SIX

Jake couldn’t breathe, body frozen to the wood floor like a saguaro cactus in a Nevada blizzard, along with the air in his lungs.

Sheridan actually stomped her foot again, snapping him out of his stupor. And still, all he could do was gape, hardly able to believe she’d darkened the bunkhouse door, something she—and her brothers—had been skittish about her ever doing before. Swallowing the shock in his throat, he tried to speak, but nothing came out.