Rebecca Zanetti - Under the Covers

He blinked. Twice. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t ride horses. Ever.” How hard was that to understand?

“That’s impossible. You’re from Idaho, right?” He cocked his head to the side.

“Ah, yes,” she lied, keeping her gaze open and on his.

“But you don’t ride.”

“No. Never have.”

He slowly nodded, his eyes narrowing. “Okay. I get off work at four tomorrow. Meet me at my house, and we’ll go for a quick lesson.”

“No way.”

“You live in Montana, sweetheart. Sometimes nature makes it difficult to get around, and you need to know how to ride a horse.”

By the set of his stubborn jaw, he would not back down. The last thing she wanted to do was pique his curiosity. If he ran a background check on her, she was in for a world of trouble. “Okay. Fine.”

Her on a horse. Quinn Lodge being curious. Things were going south…and fast.

The following morning, Quinn glanced in the rearview mirror of his truck. “Is your seat belt on?”

Leila rolled her eyes. “Uncle Quinn, I put the belt on right away. Are you going to marry Juliet?”

The questions had been peppered at him for the last five minutes as he drove through town. “No. Is the belt tight?”

Dark eyes met his in the mirror. Aware and intelligent eyes. “I axed you a question.”

He swallowed. “I answered your question.”

“Don’t you like Juliet?”

“I like her just fine.” In fact, after dropping her at home the previous night, it was all he could do not to break down her door and take another kiss. They’d had a nice drive home, and while she’d been mostly quiet, the silence had been comfortable. But sometimes finesse was necessary. Juliet deserved some space, and for a moment in the ballroom, she’d seemed afraid. He couldn’t let her fear him, so he’d backed off. Of course, he’d see her for the riding lesson the next day.

He drove the truck through the Maverick town archway, heading for a development outside of town, and focusing back on his niece. “I’m not getting married. Juliet and I are just friends.”

“Nuh-uh. You always look like you wanna kiss her when we talk about her.” Leila tugged on her pink sweatshirt.

He coughed. “I do not.”

“Do too.” Leila glanced out the window. “Daddy looks at Mom that way.” A small flush wandered over her tiny features. “Sophie says I can call her mom. That’s okay, right?”

His heart warmed until his chest hurt. “I think it’s great, little one. Sophie is a good mom to you.”

Leila shrugged and watched the trees flying by outside.

Quinn slowed the truck to turn into the subdivision. The poor kid only had pictures to remember her mother since she’d died when Leila was just a baby. “I remember your mom as someone who loved you with all her heart. She would like you to have Sophie as a mom now, sweetie. This would make your mom happy.”

Hope filled Leila’s eyes when she turned toward him. “You promise?”

God, his heart might just break. “I promise. Your mom would want you happy, right?”

“Yes.”

“This is a good thing. Love is always a good thing.” He waited until she nodded, relief filling her face. Then he turned between stone pillars forming the entryway to the subdivision.

“If you love Juliet, that’s a good thing then.”

There was no way he was winning that debate. He grabbed a silver star from the empty ashtray and handed it over the seat. “You are hereby deputized again to assist me in official sheriff duties.”

“Cool.” Leila grasped the star and pinned it to her chest. “I’m your favoriest deputy, right?”

“Without question.” Though the girl was going to do something safe with her adult life, if he had anything to say about it. Chances were, he didn’t. “I need you to keep Mrs. Jackson company while I talk to her son.” He stopped the truck in front of a newly painted blue house,stepped out, and assisted Leila to the ground.

“I know.” She hopped happily next to him, her braids flopping. In her dark jeans, pink shirt, and scuffed tennis shoes, she was the most adorable deputy he’d ever seen. Her black eyes and hair were all Jake, but her delicate bone structure came from her grandmother.

They rang the bell, and Anne Rush opened the door. Her blond hair was mussed and her eyes tired, but the grin she flashed reminded him of the sweet girl he’d kissed behind the bleachers at fifteen. She hoisted a three-month-old baby to her shoulder, tottering only slightly in the boot cast covering her right foot. “Thanks for coming.”

“No problem.” Quinn followed her inside the house and stepped over a stuffed bear, three toy trains, and a baby’s binkie on the way to the back door. “How many kids do you have now, anyway?”

She laughed. “Very funny. Considering you’re godfather to all of them, you know we only have three. It just seems like twenty.” Sighing, she patted the baby’s back. “I swear, every time Charlie comes home on leave, we end up having another one.” Sliding open the glass door, she stepped lightly down four cement steps and over a tricycle before pointing to one of several large trees fronting federal forest land. “Henry is up toward the top.”

Quinn glanced down at her. “How did you hurt your foot?”

“I tripped over the tricycle.” She chuckled.

“I’m glad you called.” Quinn nodded at Leila. “My deputy will take your statement, while I go, ah, climb a tree.”

He left the ladies talking on the porch and crossed the wide lawn before arriving at the heavy birch tree. Looking up, he sighed. The kid was so far up only one dangling tennis shoe was in sight. With a shrug, Quinn seized a sturdy branch and hauled himself up. Branch after branch, he climbed upward, bark scraping his hands and faded jeans. Finally, he reached Henry.

“Hi,” Henry said, shoving his glasses back up his nose.

“Hi.” Quinn found a heavy branch and sat, making sure the eight-year-old was secure. He seemed fine. “Why are you in a tree?”

“I was thinkin’.”

Quinn surveyed the area, smiling as he caught Mineral Lake in the distance. Mountains rose tall and strong around them, while the valley spread out with ranches and homes. “This is a good place to think.”

“Yeah.” Henry coughed. “My mom called the cops, huh?”

“Ladies don’t like when people climb trees and they can’t climb up to make sure everything’s all right.”

Henry rolled his eyes, the blue flashing behind thick glasses. “Dude, my mom can climb a tree. Well, usually.”

“That’s Sheriff Dude to you, buddy.”

Henry snorted. “I heard you’re going to marry the art lady.”

Quinn stilled. “Where the heck did you hear that?”

“Baseball tryouts.” Henry frowned and kicked out a skinny leg.

“Ah.” Quinn rubbed his chin. “How did tryouts go?”

“Not so good.” Henry bit his lip. “Yesterday was warm-up day. Tryouts are actually next week.”

Quinn nodded. “I guess tryouts are kinda hard with your dad being overseas, huh?”

“Yeah. He’s down range of Afghanistan again.” Henry hunched narrow shoulders. “He was supposed to teach me how to throw a curveball, but he had to go…”

“Ah. So you’re in a tree thinking about the situation?”

“Yeah. Seemed like a good place to think.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I figured you were busy catching bad guys and chasing the art lady.”

Regret slammed into Quinn’s gut. “I’m never too busy for you. I played baseball through high school and then college football. I can toss a curveball.” He kept his voice calm, while he yelled at himself inside. He should’ve been checking closer on his friend’s family. “Plus, my younger brother, Colton, was the best pitcher in the state for years. We’ll get him over here this afternoon.”

Hope filled Henry’s face. “Really?”

“Of course.” Quinn held his hand up for a high five. “Now, let’s go get down and make sure your mom isn’t mad at us for being in the tree so long.”

“Okay.” Henry flushed and rubbed a hand through his spiky hair. “That’s not the only reason I’m up here.”

Quinn settled back down. God, please don’t let it be a sex question. He wasn’t ready for that. “You can talk to me about anything. What’s up?”

Henry pointed to the wide yard next door. “I was watching Mr. Pearson, just making sure he’s okay.”

Quinn slowly turned his head to spot a naked, ninety-year-old man plucking weeds away from his fence. “He’s naked.”

“Yeah.” Henry sighed. “He’s been making moonshine in the shed again, and sometimes he samples the goods. Today, I think he sampled the goods.”

Quinn strangled on a cough. “Does your mom know he makes moonshine?”

“Nope. She really doesn’t climb trees very often.” Henry grabbed a branch and started descending. “Do you hafta arrest Mr. Pearson?”

“Well, I at least need to talk to him.” Quinn stepped gingerly on a narrow branch.

“Okay. But you gotta know, he’ll run. He likes to run sometimes.”

Wonderful. Quinn shook his head. He actually wanted to fight for the sheriff position again? As he glanced at the now whistling, stark-nude old guy, he grinned. Yeah. Why the hell not?

Juliet slowly approached the paddock, wondering how in the world she’d ended up in this particular mess. Sophie had been kind enough to drop her off, but at some point, Juliet needed a car. Though licensing a vehicle under a fake name would be too risky.

She rubbed aching eyes. She’d had two sleepless nights after the sheriff had dropped her off the other evening, and her exhaustion was all his fault. The kiss had her body on fire and her mind whirling.

Plus, when she’d gotten up to get a drink of water, she could’ve sworn somebody tapped on the outside door to her apartment. She’d pressed her ear against it, no way stupid enough to open it, but nothing.

The barn door opened, and the cause of her restlessness stalked out, leading two saddled horses. Today the sheriff wore dark jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt that hugged his fine muscles like it was made of horny female cotton.

He tipped his black hat up on his forehead.

Desire slammed through her so quickly she stopped moving. The Stetson shadowed his angled in a face in a way promising danger and sex, and not necessarily in that order.

She swallowed. “Those are big horses.” The biggest one was all black with wild eyes. A stallion? The second was a light tan with a dark brown mane. It was much smaller than the other one, but still huge.

Quinn rubbed the shadow on his jaw. “I’ve dreamed about you wearing tight jeans. My dreams didn’t come close to the reality.”

Serious and intent, his deep voice wandered right down her belly to pool in heat. Was it possible to be seduced by a voice? She squared her shoulders. “Why did you chase a naked old man around the Maverick subdivision yesterday?”

Quinn chortled and handed her the reins to the smaller horse. “There are no secrets in Maverick, now are there?”

That wasn’t true. Not even close. She frowned at the quiet animal. “No.”

Quinn leaned close and brushed a kiss on her forehead. “It’s nice to see you, Juliet.”

She nodded, her tongue suddenly thick.

His eyes darkened. Keeping his hands on the reins, he tilted his head, and his mouth captured hers. Firm and warm, his lips tempted her until she opened for him.

She could’ve easily stepped back.

Instead, she stepped forward into the heat generated by the man.

He deepened the kiss, taking her under, making her head spin. Finally, he released her and focused on her face. “I’ve wanted to do that since our kiss at the fund-raiser.”

Juliet breathed deep, trying to dispel the crazy need rushing through her body. No way would her voice work.

“This is going somewhere, Juliet,” he said.

Panic shoved desire out of the way. She shook her head.

Amusement filtered through his eyes. “Apparently you need time. That’s all right. I’m a very patient man.”

She glanced around the area in a lame effort to control her libido. His sprawling ranch house held a wide porch, the colors matching the three closest barns. Acreage spread out in every direction, some fields, some trees, plenty of cattle in the far distance. “I like your place.”

“Me too.” He smiled. “Mom and Tom live toward the north, while Jake and Sophie have a house to the east. Apparently Colt wants to build over that way, as well.”

“You’ve combined all the family ranches?” What would it be like to have family you actually wanted to be around?