Wishing on a Rodeo Moon (Women of Character) by Grace Brannigan Read Free Book Online Page B

when she was young and
whole. She'd be virtually trapped in the pool if he came out. Of course, she
could hop on one leg and escape; she had become pretty proficient at that
during therapy. But she wasn’t comfortable doing that in front of an
audience.
    Tye
pushed her dark glasses up on her nose and leaned back in the lounge chair. She
was a fraud. She had told Jake she wanted to be friends. It was a ploy to
protect herself, to hide. She was drawn to him and kept thinking about him, as
if the time apart had never been.
    She had
to snap out of the damnable lethargy that sapped her. She had to find another
place to live. It felt like torture to be this close to Jake. God! She still
loved him, and he felt nothing for her ― nothing more than concern for a
fellow human being. He had made that so clear with his friendly indifference.
    If she
allowed herself to get closer, to actually give in to the urge to kiss Jake,
which was the way her thoughts were wandering, she’d lose her
perspective. She was here to recover, to pick up the pieces of her life, not
get involved. She couldn’t afford any more mistakes. They just kept
piling up.
    Tye
remembered Jake from way back when they were kids. He had been Ben's childhood
friend. He had never called her a tomboy, like her brother's other friends had,
but he’d told her once she was spoiled. For a brief moment Tye wondered
what might have happened if she hadn’t left. Would she and Jake have a
family by now? For the first time in her life, Tye began to question the
reasons she had left Jake. It had been a highly emotional time, too much for a
seventeen-year-old to handle. Tye clenched her fists. She had run away all
those years ago. She, who declared she never ran from anything.
    With an
exasperated sigh, she moved to stand beside the deck rail. Looking out over the
flats, she watched the sun drop in the sky. Her first day at the ranch was
almost over. Tye liked it here. That was strange, because she had never taken
to solitude and tranquility. If the rodeo crowd could see her they would think
she had gone loco. Who would believe Tye Jenkins craved quiet surroundings?
    Tye
shook back her hair. There was no way her friends were going to see her until
she could walk perfectly, with no hitch, no hesitation.
    "Hey,
Tye, are you thinking about going for a swim?"
    Drawing
a startled breath, Tye swung her head around. Jake stood on the opposite side
of the pool, clad only in a pair of tight, faded jeans, his tanned wide
shoulders sleekly muscled and brown. Tye sucked in a deep breath, her gaze
tracing over him. This was what he hid under those business suits! The man looked
amazing. The jeans hugged long legs and fit perfectly over every bit of him.
Tye checked herself abruptly. To see him nearly naked like this just about did
her in.
    "I-I
thought you might have gone out," she muttered, tearing her eyes from his pectorals.
Her brain seemed locked on his body. His size had always made her feel small
and safe.
    "I
decided to stay in tonight. How about you, Tye? Do you have any plans?"
    "No,
I plan to forgo the nightlife for a while." She threw him a daring smile.
"I’m sure the urge will come back in time. I have a reputation to
uphold, you know ― number one party girl." The words tasted bitter.
Tye shrugged at her own irreverence.
    Without
her conscious permission, her gaze moved again over Jake. His chest hair was as
dark as his head; at nineteen, he’d had only a smattering of it. The
flesh covering his chest was more muscled now, yet Tye could see the hollow
beneath each rib.
    She
dropped her eyes to his bare feet. Swallowing past a tight lump in her throat,
she watched him throw his towel onto a bench and unbutton his pants. Damn, the
man's body was to die for. Tye wondered if he planned on skinny-dipping with
her there. The thought made her mouth go dry, then she rejected the idea. Not
Jake.
    He began
to pull his pants down.
    "Whoa,
Jake, what are you doing ― that is, I don't