Page 8 of Love’s Silver Bullet

She peeked over her shoulder—her soft and creamy bare shoulder—and his mouth instantly went dry. “That’s what I’m trying to do, Jake,” she whispered, voice husky as she nervously licked her lips—her pink and plump wet lips—“trying to get it right.”

Against his will, his gaze lingered on her mouth, causing what felt like a passel of fire ants tracking up the back of his neck when he realized his hands still circled her waist. “Ahem.” With a gruff clear of his throat, he quickly adjusted her position before jerking away, fingers on fire as if he’d been burned. And, oh sweet mother of mercy, he would be if Blaze didn’t get here soon …

Slashing quivering fingers through his hair, he shot a troubled glance at the road, hoping and praying Sheridan’s brother would somehow magically appear. Because as sure as the fire licking Jake’s collar, if he didn’t …

Jake wouldn’t be the only one going down in flames.

CHAPTER FOUR

“Jake?” It was everything Sheridan could do to keep her grin in check, the fluster in his manner as obvious as the flush bleeding up his neck. Which could only mean one thing: Jake Sullivan, the man of her dreams, was as nervous around her as she was around him!

The grin squirmed on her lips, just aching to cut free, but she knew she couldn’t let it because this was too important. He was too important for her to mess up the only chance she’d ever had to be alone with the man that she loved.

And love him she did, without one iota of doubt. From that maddening slow and easy manner to that ready smile that lit her up like a Christmas tree inside and out. Or used to. Her smile faded a hair at the thought that he didn’t seem to smile at her quite like before, with that adorable big-brother tease and swagger that was suddenly nowhere in sight.

She scrutinized his profile as he stared toward the road, his pale-blue gaze so fixed in a trance, it was as if he were willing Blaze to appear out of thin air.

He plowed through his thick black hair with mammoth hands embedded with square nails that were always clean, causing it to fall in disarray over a forehead wrinkled with worry and slick with sweat. His deeply bronzed skin—compliments of his Black Irish heritage—now bore a trace of ruddiness at his cheekbones, offset by an early shadow of dark beard that bristled a perfectly sculpted square jaw.

His Adam’s apple ducking for the umpteenth time, it lured her gaze down past beautifully broad shoulders to a perfectly sculpted chest that sported a hint of dark hair peeking out from an open collar. At six-foot-three, he literally towered over her, but then he’d always had from little on, and not just in height either. He was kind and funny and smart—and loyal to both her brothers and uncle to a fault.

But the moment he’d sided with her over her brothers at the age of four, he had become her hero, her defender, her forever cowboy with whom she longed to ride off into a blazing sunset. Her mouth crooked. Sweet choir of angels, she just hoped she was still young enough to enjoy it if and when it ever did happen! Because Jacob Michael Sullivan was perfect for her in every single way except one.

He didn’t know it.

But he would after today, Sheridan vowed. Because she intended to tell him.

Point blank if need be.

Or point kiss.

Her jaw lifted in battle despite the sudden heat in her cheeks. Whatever it took. “Jake?” Resolve fairly gilded her tone as she tapped on his shoulder.

“What?” He spun around to face her as if he’d forgotten she was even there.

Not a good sign.

Or … maybe it was …

She tipped her head to study him—his body unnaturally still like a buck in the sight of a hunter, olive skin suddenly as pale as the circled whites of his eyes. Jake Sullivan was one of the bravest men she knew, but for some reason, right now she could almost smell his fear.

Suddenly his usual intoxicating scent of leather and cedar soap with a hint of peppermint and lemon—from his addiction to lemon drops and peppermints purchased at Burdzy’s Emporium—was tinged with a trace of manly sweat, telling Sheridan the brave and wonderful cowboy before her was as anxious as he looked.

And then in one wild clip of her heart, she suddenly caught her breath, eyes blinking wide in instant awareness, hardly able to believe she hadn’t seen it before. All the avoidance. All the “Half-Pint” smirks. All the ribbing he dished out about her being a little girl. Her lips slowly curled in a truly sweet smile.

And all because he really didn’t see her as a little girl like he always let on.

Do you, Jake? She peered up with a smile brighter than the sun, her newfound confidence completely reversing their roles in her mind. All at once, she was the adult instead of the little girl he always claimed her to be and he the nervous little boy, despite the fact he was almost eight years her senior.

Patting his arm, she soothed him with a parental tone. “You know, Jake, the sooner we continue, the sooner we’ll be done, and then you can get on with your day, all right?” Utilizing her most studious voice, she attempted to get back into position. “So, is this right?”

“Nope.” He expelled what sounded like a long, arduous sigh before he roughly circled her waist again to jerk her into position none too gently, actually grabbing her knee back to force her foot into the proper position. “Stay there,” he ordered in a clipped tone that almost made her grin outright. Jake was generally a good-natured man who was never surly or cross unless you forced him to something he didn’t want to do.

Like the time Blaze made him muck all the stalls after he lost a bet. Great balls of fire, he’d slammed things around in the barn so hard, a litter of kittens had flown out in a ruckus of howls, hisses, and shrieks while Blaze and Dash laughed till they cried.

Mumbling under his breath, he snatched his own rifle from the wagon and stomped back over to where she stood totally still, not moving a muscle.

Except for the twitch of her mouth.