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He stared at her and waited for reality to sink in.
“Weeks?” Her voice faltered.
“Maybe more.”
She issued a low whimper that stood the hair up on the back of his neck for how close it was to the sound she made when she came for him.
She leaned back in her seat. “I’m already going stir-crazy. How will I ever sit still while you guys figure out who tried to kill me?”
Anger rippled through him. Yeah, somebody had tried to knock her off and probably had been every time they trashed one of her houses.
Jaren couldn’t lose sight of his purpose. He needed to focus on hunting down this person and think less about how he could get her clothes off.
“I have a few ideas to keep you busy,” he told her.
“What ideas?”
“Distractions.”
“If it involves”—she glanced at his lap and another blush hit her cheeks at the unmistakable bulge in his jeans—“that…then we need more ideas.”
His laugh was gritty. “Not that.” He brought his burger to his mouth again. “Well, not all that.”
She set her burger on the plate they were sharing and glanced anywhere but at him.
He nudged her arm with his, bringing her eyes back. “Trust me, Trinny. I can find a few ways to entertain you.”
She twisted her fingers into a knot in her lap, her face now flushing dark pink. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”
ChapterNine
Trinny clamped her fingers on the passenger seat to keep from grabbing the door handle and jumping out of the truck to make a break for the Wyntons’ barn.
Every foot they rolled up the gravel drive leading to the Wynton Ranch had her as excited as a kid on her birthday.
She and Jaren drove past the WEST office, which had its own brand of country charm. Several vehicles were parked in front, including a motorcycle.
“Whose bike is that?” she asked.
“Judd’s.”
“You all ride?”
“Just me and my brothers. My dad owns a shop and we got addicted to speed and anything with two wheels at a young age.”
She caught her lip in dismay. Clearly, motorcycles were important to Jaren and his brothers. And thanks to her, hisbike had gotten blown up. As soon as she could get a call in to her accountant, she’d have the money to cover the cost wired to Jaren.
When she finally got up the nerve to dart a look his way, she found he didn’t seem upset by the loss. Or he might be really good at hiding his emotions—like she was.
Her gaze flicked to his grip on the steering wheel. No white knuckles, no tension in his forearm. Trinny concealed the little sigh that escaped her lips that was partly from relief and partly pure desire. The tendons and veins snaking up his arm made her squirm in her seat, but the thought of those tattoos covering his shoulder and arm had her burning up.
Tattoos and motorcycles seemed to go together, but on Jaren it made complete sense. But she didn’t play around with bad boys and had never even felt the temptation before that night of the rodeo when she met this one.
The ranch came into view. So beautiful. So…Majesticwas the only word she could conjure that fit.
Pastureland sprawled all the way up to the front of the home. The heavy logs supporting the front porch looked to have been hewn from some ancient forest even as the structure possessed modern touches such as windows with black steel frames that matched the front gate leading to the Wynton Ranch.
“If I ever owned a ranch, it would be like this one.” She heard the awe in her own voice and quickly tried to cover it. “It looks like a big outfit.”
