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She buttoned her coat against the wind as they stepped out onto the porch. If Cooper was cold in his woolen shirt and vest, he didn’t complain. “Wasn’t Maggie something tonight?” she said, making conversation as he guided her past the crack on the sidewalk. “I can’t believe she’s only seven. That girl’s a natural politician. And it looks like we’ve got ourselves a Christmas parade. Do you plan to help out?”
“Maybe with the horses and sleigh. How about you?”
“Not me,” she said. “I’ve got plans that involve sun, lapping waves, and sparkling sands.” They had reached her car. Next door, the lights were on. Wynette’s car was parked in the driveway behind Buck’s pickup. “Of course, I’ll have to work my vacation around Wynette’s wedding,” Jess said. “I wouldn’t miss that for anything. At least, with her big family close by, I won’t have to worry about being a bridesmaid.”
He studied the western sky, where sooty clouds, blown by the wind, were rolling over the horizon. “You’ll be alone after she leaves,” he said. “If you need help with anything, or just want company, don’t hesitate to call me. No strings attached. I mean it.”
“You mean if I hear a noise under my bed and think it might be that bogeyman you mentioned?”
He shook his head and opened her car door. “Get going, you stubborn lady. There’s a big storm moving in. You need to be safely home before it hits.”
As Jess drove away, she could see him in her rearview mirror, standing on the dimly lit curb, watching her go. At least he hadn’t asked her out for coffee this time. That should’ve come as a relief. So why did she feel let down?
She’d taken extra pains with her hair, makeup, and clothes this evening. Was it Cooper she’d meant to impress? But who else?
Idiot!She gave herself a mental slap. The farther she stayed from Cooper Chapman, journalist, the safer her hard-won privacy would be. She knew the man was trouble. So why did her pulse do a little polka step when she was with him?
But that was only a natural reaction to Cooper’s masculinity, she told herself. It was hormones, nothing more. And she couldn’t let those hormones control her actions.
By the time she made it across town to her home, the wind had risen to a howling gale. The clouds had moved in, roiling across the sky. Guided by the porch light she’d left on, she parked in the driveway and opened the car door. The wind yanked the door out of her hand, almost snapping it off the hinges before she wrestled it closed. Gripping her purse, she staggered to the house. On the porch, she unlocked the door, stumbled inside, and locked it behind her.
There’d been no tornado warnings—Jess had learned to check the weather each day. But this storm was a wild one. Thank goodness she was safe at home and not on the road.
Wynette would still be at the new place with Buck. Earlier, she’d said something about painting the kitchen cabinets. She’d probably stay put until the storm passed, or most likely, all night.
The hour was still early, but she was cold and tired. Bed sounded like a great idea. After changing into her flannel pajamas, she checked the windows and doors, then crawled beneath the covers. Wind howled around the house, sounding like a pack of hungry wolves. Hail battered the windowpanes.
Jess’s bed was comfortable. The down quilt bundled her like a warm cocoon. But in the dark, with the storm outside, the awareness of how alone she was triggered a melancholy mood. A night like this was made for snuggling—safe in the arms of someone who loved her. But that idea was nothing but an idle fantasy.
She’d had a few casual relationships in college, but once she’d joined the FBI, she’d been totally involved in her work—as well as being frequently on the move. And since leaving the bureau, even with Grace trying to push her into Cooper’s arms, she was too broken for romance. But tonight, the thought of taking refuge against that big, strong body triggered an ache inside her.
Don’t be a fool. Go to sleep.
She closed her eyes and tried to picture herself on a tropical beach with the waves lapping at her feet. Lapping . . . lapping . . .
At last, with the wind wailing outside, she sank into slumber.
* * *
By the time Cooper and Trevor drove through the ranch gate and up to the house, the wind was whipping the tall Lombardy poplars and battering the windshield with hail and debris. They found Glory, who usually spent her nights in the barn, huddled on the porch, damp and shivering. “She must’ve been wondering why her people hadn’t shown up,” Trevor said.
“Take her inside and get her warm,” Cooper told his son. “She can stay in the house if you want her to. I’ll go and check on the horses.”
Cooper found his flashlight in the glove box. Fighting against the wind, he made it to the barn. The barn door had come unlatched and was banging in the wind. The horses were in their stalls, restless and snorting but safe.
Cooper calmed the animals, made sure they had food and water and that the door was securely latched. Then, giving himself a future reminder to check on them before leaving the ranch again, he staggered back to the house.
The light was on in the living room. Trevor had lit the wood in the fireplace and was rubbing the dog dry with a towel. Glory was enjoying the attention. Her eyes were closed, her feathery tail thumping on the hardwood floor.
“Do you think Abner’s all right?” Trevor asked.
“I imagine he is. But if you’re worried, you’ve got his phone number. You could try calling him.”
“Good idea.” Leaving the dog, he crossed the room to the landline phone mounted on the wall next to the kitchen. Lifting the receiver, he put it to his ear and frowned. “Something’s wrong. The phone’s gone dead.”
Cooper took the receiver and listened. “The line must be down. Probably the wind. At least we’ve got pow—”
The house went dark. He bit back a curse. “Well, there we go. We’ll just have to wait until it’s fixed.” He turned on the flashlight he’d carried in from the Jeep and gave it to Trevor. “Here, you can use this to get ready for bed. I’ll come in and get it later. Let’s hope the batteries last.”
