to smile.
"I suppose I looked quite outrageous." She couldn’t help but
laugh.
Truman regarded her
with puzzled dismay, then shook his head in resignation and lay
back in the grass. “I give up. You are crazier than a waltzing
pig.”
She chuckled at that.
"So why were you following me?" she finally asked.
He tossed his arms up
under his head. "I wanted to know where you were going."
"Why? I’m not your
prisoner. I’m free to leave town if I want to."
“Is that what you were
doing?” he asked with suspicion. “Leaving town?”
“No. I wasn’t sure I
could even get out of here.”
His chest heaved with a
sigh. “You don’t always make a lot of sense, Junebug.”
“I’m quite aware of
that,” she replied, squinting toward the horizon.
“Are you also aware
that when you’re cryptic,” he said, “it only makes me more
suspicious? More intrigued?”
She didn’t answer. How
could she? She didn’t know if he was speaking professionally or
personally, or if it was a good thing or a bad thing.
"Well..." He rose to
his feet and offered his hand. "Time to head back."
She was eye level with
his belt buckle. She gazed at his hips and muscular thighs, and was
half tempted to ask him to stay a while longer and talk. She might
not always like his questions, but she did enjoy the anticipation
she felt whenever she was alone with him.
"Coming?" he
repeated.
Jessica shook herself
out of her infatuation and accepted his hand. He pulled her to her
feet, and she lifted her skirts and hiked ahead of him through the
tall grass toward the road.
"Jessica!"
Heart thumping a rapid
rhythm in her chest, she stopped and turned. "What is it?"
He glanced at her feet.
She looked down and realized she was holding her skirts clear above
her knees.
Knowing a thing or two
about the times, she guessed Truman had never seen a woman do that.
She quickly dropped the skirt and shrugged, as if to say, ‘what
does it matter anyway?’
“You’re different from
most women,” he said.
“I know.”
He stared at her for a
long moment, then kept this eyes trained on the ground as he walked
past her. “And you ain’t easy to be around.”
“I know that, too,” she
casually replied.
While they walked side
by side back to town, they talked about simpler matters – like
Dodge City’s cattle trade and the occasional scuffle that kept
Truman busy in his job.
When they reached the
bridge, Jessica cleared her throat. "Truman, I hope from now on you
won't waste any more time trying to investigate my past. I
guarantee there's nothing to find."
"Model citizen?"
"You could say
that."
Truman’s gaze roamed
leisurely down the length of her body, and she felt another
stirring of excitement as she remembered the kiss, and wanted very
much to do it again.
"I'll tell you what,”
he said in a low, husky voice. “I'll stop trying to dig up your
past, if you promise to keep a close watch over your shoulder."
A surge of apprehension
moved through her. "Why? Do you think the gang will come back?"
"Don't know. But if you
didn't kill Lou, somebody else did, and there's probably a damn
good reason why they haven't come forward for the reward." He
leaned even closer and whispered hotly in her ear. “And I don’t
want to see you get hurt.”
She thanked him
politely, but inside, she swooned.
Chapter Eleven
In the days that
followed – while Jessica waited for a rain and lightning storm so
that she could go back out onto the prairie and try spinning
again—she saw Truman only once. Passing him on the boardwalk, she
smiled politely after he tipped his hat at her, and when he was
gone, she had to fight a hot and lusty compulsion to chase after
him, grab him by the hand, drag him home to her bed, and get naked
in a frenzied hurry.
If only she could
conquer those heady urges. She was lonely; there was no denying
that. There was also no denying that she was lonely for her home
and family. The thing that worried her, however, was
"I suppose I looked quite outrageous." She couldn’t help but
laugh.
Truman regarded her
with puzzled dismay, then shook his head in resignation and lay
back in the grass. “I give up. You are crazier than a waltzing
pig.”
She chuckled at that.
"So why were you following me?" she finally asked.
He tossed his arms up
under his head. "I wanted to know where you were going."
"Why? I’m not your
prisoner. I’m free to leave town if I want to."
“Is that what you were
doing?” he asked with suspicion. “Leaving town?”
“No. I wasn’t sure I
could even get out of here.”
His chest heaved with a
sigh. “You don’t always make a lot of sense, Junebug.”
“I’m quite aware of
that,” she replied, squinting toward the horizon.
“Are you also aware
that when you’re cryptic,” he said, “it only makes me more
suspicious? More intrigued?”
She didn’t answer. How
could she? She didn’t know if he was speaking professionally or
personally, or if it was a good thing or a bad thing.
"Well..." He rose to
his feet and offered his hand. "Time to head back."
She was eye level with
his belt buckle. She gazed at his hips and muscular thighs, and was
half tempted to ask him to stay a while longer and talk. She might
not always like his questions, but she did enjoy the anticipation
she felt whenever she was alone with him.
"Coming?" he
repeated.
Jessica shook herself
out of her infatuation and accepted his hand. He pulled her to her
feet, and she lifted her skirts and hiked ahead of him through the
tall grass toward the road.
"Jessica!"
Heart thumping a rapid
rhythm in her chest, she stopped and turned. "What is it?"
He glanced at her feet.
She looked down and realized she was holding her skirts clear above
her knees.
Knowing a thing or two
about the times, she guessed Truman had never seen a woman do that.
She quickly dropped the skirt and shrugged, as if to say, ‘what
does it matter anyway?’
“You’re different from
most women,” he said.
“I know.”
He stared at her for a
long moment, then kept this eyes trained on the ground as he walked
past her. “And you ain’t easy to be around.”
“I know that, too,” she
casually replied.
While they walked side
by side back to town, they talked about simpler matters – like
Dodge City’s cattle trade and the occasional scuffle that kept
Truman busy in his job.
When they reached the
bridge, Jessica cleared her throat. "Truman, I hope from now on you
won't waste any more time trying to investigate my past. I
guarantee there's nothing to find."
"Model citizen?"
"You could say
that."
Truman’s gaze roamed
leisurely down the length of her body, and she felt another
stirring of excitement as she remembered the kiss, and wanted very
much to do it again.
"I'll tell you what,”
he said in a low, husky voice. “I'll stop trying to dig up your
past, if you promise to keep a close watch over your shoulder."
A surge of apprehension
moved through her. "Why? Do you think the gang will come back?"
"Don't know. But if you
didn't kill Lou, somebody else did, and there's probably a damn
good reason why they haven't come forward for the reward." He
leaned even closer and whispered hotly in her ear. “And I don’t
want to see you get hurt.”
She thanked him
politely, but inside, she swooned.
Chapter Eleven
In the days that
followed – while Jessica waited for a rain and lightning storm so
that she could go back out onto the prairie and try spinning
again—she saw Truman only once. Passing him on the boardwalk, she
smiled politely after he tipped his hat at her, and when he was
gone, she had to fight a hot and lusty compulsion to chase after
him, grab him by the hand, drag him home to her bed, and get naked
in a frenzied hurry.
If only she could
conquer those heady urges. She was lonely; there was no denying
that. There was also no denying that she was lonely for her home
and family. The thing that worried her, however, was
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