Wild Cat And The Marine

Being hurtful to his father was something he did as a teenager. Despite his exasperation at his father’s need to tell him how to do a job, he had no intention of walking that road again. Jackson touched his father’s shoulder. “Not out of my hair, Pop. Out of danger. Tell you what I’ll do. I’ll fix you a place to sit over there by the door. The sun ought to feel good for a while, before it gets too hot, and if you’re over there, I won’t worry about you falling. We can talk while I’m working. Maybe you can help me figure out which part is screwy on this old heap.”

Will Gray nodded, his face brighter, a bare smile tilting his lips. His lean angular body straightened as he patted Jackson’s hand where it rested on his shoulder. Reluctantly, he agreed. “My knee is starting to hurt some.”

JACKSON HADN’T INTENDED walking over to Cat’s place that evening. Tired and irritable from the previous night’s lack of sleep, he wanted only his bed, but Bertie came over to keep Pop company. He didn’t have the patience to sit around the living room with them discussing how much he’d grown or how he seemed exactly the same as when he was sixteen, even though time had really flown.

He knew a mysterious force tugged him toward the Darnell farm, but thinking about why it existed made the skin on the back of his neck prickle with unease. He preferred to believe Bertie and Pop caused him to flee his home.

He kicked at the dusty road. Hell, it was a good two miles over to Cat’s. An early night was what he needed, not a half hour’s tramp along this graveled excuse for a road. Across a wide, untended field, he saw smoke drifting from the chimney of her house. An image of Cat’s straight, black hair whipping out behind her filled his mind. Her high cheekbones gave her green eyes a suggestion of mystery and hinted at a secret only she knew.

Damn. She was just the girl he left behind in a town too dull for words, too dry for spit and not worth remembering for all the sugar beets in Traill County. He absolutely knew that, but he left the road and struck off across the field.

Coming up on Little Dog Creek, he heard rustling sounds near a sparse grove of boxelder trees. He stopped. The sun had almost vanished beneath the flat horizon. There weren’t any bears or moose around here and not much else that might be dangerous. The light was still good and would be for another hour or so, but maybe this wasn’t such a bright idea, for a different reason than the anonymous rustling noise in the weeds.

He thought about turning back. Jackson came to a halt near a patch of thistles just waiting to glom onto his jeans. Hanging around Cat Darnell was plain foolish. If he didn’t watch out, he’d find himself caught in her silky, sable hair as surely as a fox in a steel-jawed trap. That old fox would sure as hell have to quit his roaming, if he got caught.

He’d always loved the crisp feel of striding into a place more exciting than the one he’d left behind. Cat was just a friend, after all, though one he’d made love to, a long time ago. He’d step around that trap. They could still be friends without him yielding to a hell-sent temptation to weave his fingers through the dusky strands of her midnight hair and kiss that soft, sweet spot near her cat-green eyes.

Jackson tramped resolutely forward. Thirty yards from the creek, a low coughing stopped him in his tracks. Then almost in his face, six deer leaped to their feet and bounded away, their white tails lifted like flags behind them.

The beautiful animals had startled him. He skirted their bedding area and jumped the creek at a spot where it narrowed to only a couple of feet wide. Resisting Cat’s considerable temptations would test his determination to leave Engerville, but there’d be no real contest. He’d already decided the ending.

CAT, EYEING HER BEAD BOX on the dining room table, resigned herself to washing the dishes first. Joey swept the kitchen in lazy, unambitious strokes of the straw broom, drawing out the task far past the time when she should have finished it. Her attention caught by something, Joey went over to the window. The broom lay forgotten on the floor as she gazed out. Suddenly, Joey’s back stiffened.

“Mom, that guy is outside.”

A beat of apprehension clutched Cat. Who would visit this late in the evening? Careful to keep her alarm from showing, she asked, “What guy, Joey?”

“The one with red hair. I forget.” She turned to glance at her mother, bright curiosity lighting her face. “What’s his name?”

The apprehension vanished with a suddenness that left Cat weak. “Jackson. It must be Jackson Gray.”

“Yeah, that’s the one. I like him. Why’s he coming to see us?”

Jackson’s knock sounded at the back door.

Cat pushed back sweat-dampened strands of hair from her face and hurriedly dried her hands on her apron and tossed it on the counter near the sink. She’d like to have a little warning of his visits. Enough to greet him in something pretty, instead of one of her father’s old T-shirts and her own well-worn, faded jeans. She stroked the compact braid she kept her hair in. Neat, yes, and not pulled tight away from her face, but left loose, before it formed the thick rope dangling halfway down her back, tied with a length of red leather from her bead supplies. With her deep tan, it gave her an exotic look. She smiled wryly. Well, maybe just interesting, not really exotic. She glanced down at her body. She’d worked too hard over the years to put on extra weight. Her concern for Jackson’s opinion troubled her, but she had no time to examine what it meant. “Let him in, Teddy Bear.”

Joey hesitated, then darted toward the door. As if she didn’t know whether to be eager or afraid, Cat thought, in complete sympathy with her daughter.

The tall, red-haired man smiled unsurely at her. Despite his size and the inevitable intimidation caused by her guilty secret, his deference put her in charge and her nervousness vanished. Her property, her home…her daughter, she reminded herself. “Jackson, what a nice surprise. Come in.”

“Are you sure you don’t mind, Cat? I should have called, but all I could think of was escaping from the farm. I had an irresistible urge to get away from Pop and Bertie’s discussions of my wayward youth.”

“You weren’t so bad. Is that the real reason you came by?”

His mouth stretched into the delicious smile she loved. He looked suddenly shy. “Bertie came by to visit and I saw at dinner they were warming up my bones for a good chewing. You know how parents like to remind you of every stupid thing you ever did, before you grew up? Yeah, well, they were making notes, so they wouldn’t forget anything.”

A sympathetic giggle escaped from Cat. Joey, half hidden behind the door, peeped out at the two of them and Cat sobered. “Honestly, Jackson, the way you talk, you’d think you were abused as a child!”

“What do you call shoveling sh—manure all day long?”

Cat glanced at Joey again, silently warning Jackson to watch his language, but her own mirth bubbled over. “Not all day?”

“It seemed like it. Never mind. I see you’re still in the bead business. Were you planning on making jewelry this evening? I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

“You’re not. You’re welcome anytime. The beads can wait.” She brushed off his question with a casual wave at the plastic box packed with beading materials. A moment ago, she’d been eager to get through her chores and let the bright beads fall through her fingers as she chose the perfect size and color for a new necklace. Now, with Jackson here, she pushed them aside as if they meant nothing.

Jackson grinned. “Pop and I have about as much in common as the Army and the Navy. I haven’t decided who’s going to win the battle and it will be weeks yet, before I can leave. Coming over here to talk to you might keep me sane.”

It hurt to know how badly he wanted to go, but she should have been prepared for his eagerness to leave. “Is farm work getting you down that much?”

His face settled into a disgruntled frown. “I’m not a farmer, Cat. My plants don’t grow, my hens don’t lay, my pigs don’t get fat. Even my tractor doesn’t run. I’m not cut out for this stuff. Pop knows it. He’s walking pretty good now and he follows me around worse than Blue does, always trying to tell me how to do it better.”

A wave of sympathy enveloped her. How terrible to have to do what you hated most in life. No wonder his eyes looked shadowed as if he hadn’t slept well for weeks. “Let me get you a glass of iced tea and we’ll go sit on the front porch. Joey, would you get a cloth to wipe the chairs? With the wind blowing all day, those chairs will have an inch of dust on them.”

“You’re a good friend, Cat. Hey, Joey, remind me to tell you about the deer I saw on my way over this evening.”

Joey snagged a dish cloth from the sink and paused at the refrigerator. “Cool! Were there any babies?”

“One, I think. They were moving so fast, I didn’t see much.”

Joey nodded, then opened the refrigerator and asked, without turning around, “Mom, can I have a can of Coke?”

“Make it milk, Joey. You know I don’t like you to drink pop this close to bedtime.”

“Aw, Mom! I had milk at dinner. How about Sprite?”

“Well, there’s no caffeine in it. Just this once, then,” she warned. “It’s not going to become a habit, young lady.”

“Sure, sure.” Joey came from behind the refrigerator door, soda in hand, a broad smile dimpling her cheeks, and sauntered toward the living room.

Jackson whispered, his voice low so Joey couldn’t hear him. “Sounds like she has you pegged as a soft touch.”

Cat grunted, then the beginnings of a frown shaped her mouth. “She might think so, but never for long.”

One corner of his mouth tipped up in a mocking question. “Are you sure you don’t beat her?”

Cat twisted away from the casual smile that gripped her like a pair of handcuffs. She reached for glasses from the cabinet and then looked over her shoulder at Jackson. The moment became suddenly tense and still. The rest of the world disappeared. Heat enveloped her in one shattering, electric instant. Hastily, she turned back to the cabinet shelf and pretended great interest in the array of mismatched glasses. “Never on Thursdays! Joey’s perfectly safe one day a week.”

“Yeah, right.”

Cat put the glasses on the table. Carefully.

His devilish smile broke out full force as he moved closer. His voice got lower. “If you knew what I dreamed last night…”

“What?” She straightened and faced him.

The smile faded and his cheeks took on a characteristic ruddy blush. “Oh, I couldn’t tell.”