Page 73 of Love’s Silver Bullet

“Fine.” Blue eyes narrowing, she slammed the door behind her before plunking her hands on her hips. “We can talk right here, then.”

“The devil we will,” he rasped, voice still rusty from the sheer stun of Sheridan’s boldness. Adam’s apple jerking hard, he shot past her to open the door, hooking her arm on the way as he yanked her through, slamming the door for good measure. Dropping his hold, he stormed toward the barn without another word, pretty darn sure he’d never been this angry with Sher before.

An image of her kissing him senseless as he lay inert on his back suddenly came to mind, and the heat of his anger combusted with a heat of a whole ’nother kind. Stomping into the barn, he quickly lit a lamp and whirled around, waiting for her to catch up before he slid the barn doors shut with a loud slam. “Just what in the devil do you think you’re doing?” he shouted, grateful he could vent his anger where nobody could hear him—or her—since she was pert near yelling at the top of her lungs as well, obviously as angry at him as he was at her.

“Trying to get a few measly moments to talk to you alone, Jake Sullivan,” she shouted back, snapping tightly balled fists to her hips, “but you made darn good and sure that would never happen, didn’t you?”

He leaned in, looming over her like a threat. “Just like you made darn good and sure to embarrass the devil out of me in front of the other hands, Half-Pint, which I may never forgive you for.”

She stepped in, granite jaw jerking up to go head to head with his, making him wonder what the devil they were teaching her up there if his sweet, little Half-Pint was turning into her Aunt Libby. “And I am not your ‘Half-Pint,’ Jake Sullivan …” she began with blue sparks in her eyes.

No kidding. He took a step back.

“I am supposed to be your ‘good friend with the promise of more,’ as you will recall, who has written you countless letters, but the only ‘more’ I’ve gotten since I’ve been home for Christmas is more of the same cold shoulder you gave me all summer.”

Body swarming with frustration, he shifted with a noisy blast of air, gouging the back of his neck. “For pity’s sake, Sheridan, we’ve been laughing and talking all weekend—”

“With a roomful of people!” she yelled, her voice as close to a shriek as he’d ever heard, “because you’ve been avoiding me, you bullheaded baboon, and I dare you to deny it.”

He ground his jaw, thinking he liked her a whole lot better when she wore pigtails and mud at the age of eight, instead of slinging it at nineteen. “I don’t deny it, little girl,” he emphasized just to get on her nerves, “because this is exactly what I knew would happen, you spouting off that friendship isn’t enough, and blast it all, Sheridan, that’s all I’m willing to give.”

Locking her arms to her waist, she stared him down—or up since she barely came to his chest. “That was not our deal, Jake, and you know it. You spit swore and sealed it with a kiss that all but plastered me to the wall, you stubborn Irishman. That we would be good friends with the promise of more, and I don’t think seeing you alone once every three to six months is too much to ask.”

Eyelids sagging closed, he swallowed hard, well aware she had a point, but so did he.

Right on top of my pinhead.

Because he should have never promised her anything but friendship.

Expelling a quiet sigh, he kneaded the bridge of his nose before he finally faced her head-on, his gaze gentled by the tinge of hurt he saw in her eyes. “No, it’s not, Sheridan, for normal friends, but you and I?” He wagged a finger between them, figuring honesty was the best policy and hoping she would understand. “We’re not normal friends, Half-Pint, because there’s too much attraction between us, you know? And it’s just”—he shoved his hands in his pockets as he looked away, praying she would cut him some slack—“well, it’s just too dog-gone hard for me to keep my hands off you when we’re alone.”

“I understand completely, Jake.”

He peered up beneath buckled brows. “You do?”

She gave a little shrug. “Sure. We’re crazy about each other, so it only makes sense.”

“Now, I didn’t say th—”

She cut him off with a sharp jag of her brow, almost daring him to deny it.

He blasted out a loud gust of frustration as he sifted shaky fingers through his hair. “Okay, we are, which is all the more reason I can’t be alone with you during this friendship of ours. I love your letters and staying in touch that way, but when you come home …”

He shook his head, grateful she’d be gone for another five months till summer, and not exactly sure what he was going to do then. “It’s just too hard on me, you know?” His heart expanded and contracted along with his ribcage as he exhaled another cumbersome sigh, gaze fused to his boots. “So, do you … see my point, then, why we can’t be spending time alone together?”

“Completely,” she whispered, “and I totally understand.”

He glanced up beneath half-lidded lashes. “You do?”

“Of course I do, Jake, because it’s just as hard for me as it is for you, so limiting our time alone together only makes sense given we’re only friends with the promise of more.”

“Oh, thank God!” he whispered, the words drifting out on a huge sigh of relief.

“As long as we seal it with a kiss.”

“What?!” He backed away with hands in the air. “You just said you understood.”

“I do.” Her chin nudged up. “You want a friendship till I’m out of school, Jake, and I want more, so it seems to me that a few minutes spent sealing it with a kiss each time I come home is right down the middle.”