Runaway Cowboy by T. J. Kline Read Free Book Online Page B

worth what he’d given up.
    J ENNIFER SLID OPEN the door between her room and the kitchenette of the trailer and saw Clay sleeping in Derek’s spot on the couch, a thin throw blanket twisted around his legs. Typical cowboy, sleeping in whatever he was wearing and wherever he dropped. She tried not to stare at the broad wall of muscle that made up his chest or the way his T-shirt had ridden up, giving her a clear view of the ridges of his abs just above his belt buckle. She bit her lip and reached for a coffee cup, her mouth practically watering over the sexy specimen of male perfection lying on her couch. Clay had always been good looking, but the last few years had been generous to his physique. She didn’t want to begin wondering about how the last five years had affected him emotionally. She knew how it had changed her and delving into that conversation would light a powder keg of vulnerability she wasn’t sure she could handle.
    Clay had never been one to share his feelings. Hell, he’d barely shared his thoughts when they’d been dating. Nor did he seem inclined to offer anything to her now other than an apology for leaving. She didn’t want to hear his excuses; she wanted to know the truth. What had been so much more valuable to him than their relationship, than her heart? He stirred enough to shift on the small couch, trying to find some measure of comfort. His T-shirt rode higher on his side as he threw an arm over his head, smacking his knuckles against the wall.
    â€œOw.” He checked his hand for damage. She couldn’t help but smile as she poured water into the small coffee pot on the counter, forcing herself to tear her eyes away from him.
    â€œYou could have let me sleep a bit longer,” he muttered.
    â€œYou want to work with Mike, you know the rules. Up early and animals first.” She watched as he sat up and scrubbed a hand over the scruff of beard growth on his jaw. “Coffee will be ready in a few minutes.”
    Clay eyed her suspiciously. “You’re sort of friendly this morning.”
    â€œYeah? Well, probably because you haven’t pissed me off yet. But I’m sure you’ll remedy that before breakfast.”
    Clay rose and made his way toward her in stocking feet. She wanted to back away from him but forced herself to stand her ground, tipping her chin up to meet his gaze. She wasn’t going to let him think anything about him intimidated her, and she certainly didn’t want him thinking his nearness was turning her bones into a quivering mass of Jell-O. God, he smelled good. Like soap and leather and pine. She could see the smoldering desire in his eyes, and when he leaned forward, she nearly fell into his arms, ready for him to kiss her again.
    â€œCups?” He reached a hand to the cabinet behind her, brushing his other hand over her arm as he leaned past her.
    Her heart leapt into her throat, racing, pounding hard enough that he had to be able to hear it. “Yeah,” she answered dumbly, jumping away from his touch.
    Smooth, Jennifer.
    Clay poured himself a cup of coffee from the half-brewed pot and turned back to the couch, but not before she caught the smile slowly curving over his lips. He knew exactly how he affected her and was doing it deliberately, the jerk. She grabbed her own mug and slammed the cabinet, causing him to turn back to her.
    â€œProblem?”
    â€œNothing a little coffee and some fresh air can’t fix,” she answered sweetly, pouring the cup and slipping on her boots.
    â€œI’ll feed. You sit. When I finish, I’ll come back and help you make breakfast.”
    It was something they’d done together before his departure. When they were on the road, he’d help Mike or Scott feed the animals before joining her each morning while she made breakfast for the crew. Most of the time, in the cramped space of the fifth-wheel, they would bump into each other and end up pressed