His pulse gave a swift and hard surge, sending heat right through him. “It’s about time you stopped acting like a wanton woman.”
“A wanton woman?” Hurt tinged her question.
Maybe in the short term his rebuke would hurt her feelings, but if he could keep her safe—even from himself—that’s all that mattered. “Yes. And while you’re at it, stop pretending to be a man.”
At the shuffling of linen, he tried to block out the image of her slipping on her garments, but just the prospect was enough to send more warmth through his gut. He pressed his palms over his eyes, as if that could somehow make the picture disappear. He couldn’t let his thoughts about Ivy get carried away, not after all these years of keeping them from wandering.
“You’ve got no right to be upset with me,” she said.
“Why not?”
“You ain’t had a part in my life for so long, what makes you think you can tell me what to do now?”
Weren’t those nearly the same words he’d spouted at his dad shortly after his return home when his dad had started ordering him around and planning his life? After Dad had abandoned him time after time, Jericho had resented his sudden interest.
Was that how Ivy felt? Maybe it wasn’t his place to start bossing Ivy around. On the other hand, now that he was here, how could he ignore her foolishness? Someone had to talk some sense into her before she got herself hurt or killed.
“I guess I don’t have any right to tell you what to do after being gone all this time, but lucky for you, I’m planning to tell you anyway.”
Chapter
3
Ivy tugged up her split skirt over her drawers. Her wet skin made the process of dressing painfully slow. And her frozen fingers and limbs were sluggish to obey the commands her mind was giving them.
The thrill of seeing Jericho in the river and knowing he’d followed her back from Elkhorn Ranch had vanished the second he called her a young girl and told her she was childish. She’d wanted to throw a bucket of icy water in his face and wake him up to the fact that she wasn’t a girl anymore and hadn’t been even when he’d left Colorado.
Maybe he was right about her threat to stand up in her unmentionables—it had been a tad wanton. But Jericho was about as dense as a brick. He’d always talked down to her like she was stupid, had always seen her as more of nuisance than anything else. Even those last couple of years before he left, he’d viewed her as a little girl.
Her face flushed just thinking about what she’d almost done in standing up in the river so brazenly, and her fingers fumbled at the skirt button at her hip. Of course, leave it to Jericho to be too noble to look at her. She shoulda known he wouldn’t.
Even now, he remained unmoving in the stream, facing the opposite way, waiting and giving her plenty of time to cover herself. Part of her respected him for treating her so carefully. But another part of her wished he’d finally recognize how grown-up she was.
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. She swiped up her blouse, stuffing in first one arm and then the other, the thin material sticking to her skin.
“Why’re you here, Jericho?” The question had burned within her during the ride to the ranch.
“After almost killing yourself in that race, what do you expect?”
She wasn’t asking about why he was standing there right now. She wanted to know why he’d come back to Colorado—if he was here to stay or just passing through. But asking him those kinds of questions would make it seem like she cared too much and had been thinking about him often. And she didn’t anymore—care or think about him. She’d put her infatuation with Jericho Bliss far from her mind a long time ago. “I didn’t almost kill myself.”
He snuck a glance at her over his shoulder. At seeing her fully clothed, the tension seemed to ease from his stiff spine, and he began to wade out of the water toward her.
“I had a hiccup near the end but caught myself just fine.”
“That wasn’t a hiccup. That was more like a gut-splitting cough.”
“Aw, c’mon. You’ve seen me ride enough to know I rarely meet my shadow on the ground.”
“You not only almost met your shadow, but you almost met your Maker.”
She fumbled at the buttons of her blouse, her fingers still numb. As he stepped out onto the bank and drew nearer, she tried not to notice the assured way he held himself and the strength that radiated from him.
But as he stopped only a couple of paces away, it was as if only a day had passed since he’d left. She was just as aware of his rugged good looks, work-roughened body, and no-nonsense blue eyes as she’d always been.
Why couldn’t he be as plain as paint? Just wasn’t fair for one fella to be so handsome. And just wasn’t fair she was drawn to him worse than a bear cub to a bowl full of honey, even after how hard she’d worked to stamp out every little bit of hankering for him. All it had taken was one glimpse of him standing there at Elkhorn Ranch, and earlier tonight all that desire had come flooding back worse than before.
Her fingers shook, and she lost her grip on her button.
“Look at you.” Irritation laced his words. “Frozen to the bone.”
She’d always had a knack for irritating him to no end. Seemed she still did.
“One more reason you shouldn’t take baths in the river.”
“I always manage fine.”
He reached for her button, as though to help her, and in the process, his fingers brushed against her chemise. A shiver skipped along all her nerve endings, one more powerful than any she’d ever experienced with him. And she’d had plenty of innocent contact with him over the years—hands brushing while roping, shoulders touching while sitting together on a corral fence, feet bumping beneath a table.
But this . . . this was different. His presence powerful and raw and real. Warmth radiated from him. And his touch was somehow more intimate.
His fingers hovered above her as if he’d just noticed her curves and his proximity. She could almost see the realization clicking in his head, could almost hear his mental berating. She couldn’t keep from taunting him. “Scared if you help me, you won’t be able to let go when you’re done?”
He gave a low, scoffing laugh. “Of course not.”
“Prove it.”
He hesitated, stared at the button, and then dropped his hands and fell back a step. “I don’t need to prove anything to you, Ivy.”
She was being wanton again, wasn’t she? And he was still set on rejecting her. This was the way it had always been. Clearly nothing had changed.
“Reckon I can take care of myself just fine and don’t need to prove anything to you either.” She bent and swiped up her Buster Bliss outfit and began stuffing it into her saddlebag.
He watched her silently.
When she’d hidden away every last stitch of the clothing and spectacles, she combed her fingers through her hair and wound it into a knot on top of her head, heedless of how messy the bun was. She stuck in a pin to hold it in place, then pressed her hat down.
She tucked her boots under one arm and reached for Poppy’s reins. “See you around, Jericho.” With that, she started walking along the river path that led to the house.