Shoulda Been a Cowboy

And yet the second he’d walked in each morning, her heart rate had indeed increased, her stomach had plummeted, and her palms were definitely starting to get a little bit damp.

She forced her breathing to slow as he approached. He was holding his bike helmet beneath his arm, propping it against his hip. There was something epically badass about him when he stood that way. It was as appealing now as it had been fifteen years ago. And she had no idea why that was. He’d never been a good idea for her, never been a logical match. Her hormones had never registered that fact.

He laid his helmet on the counter and pushed his hand through his dark hair, drawing her eyes to the tattoo of dark evergreen trees that wrapped around his arm. They started at his wrist and extended up to his elbow. His tattoos fascinated her, now and always, because she’d never been able to imagine voluntarily undergoing something so presumptively painful.

That he’d been willing to do it only added to his mystique.

Oh, shoot. She had a feeling her internal monologue had been running for quite some time, and it was very possible Jake had been standing there for a little longer than she realized.

“The usual?” The question came out a croak, and she was none too impressed with herself.

Jake lifted one broad shoulder, not sparing her a smile. Smiling did not seem to be a part of his emotional vocabulary. That much she had learned over the past week. “Sounds good.”

“The only kind of muffin I have left is blueberry.”

“That’s fine.” He shifted his weight from one foot to another and for some reason she found it fascinating. “Every muffin you’ve ever served me has been delicious.”

Cassie nearly choked. “I’m glad you like my...muffins.” For some reason it all sounded dirty. Maybe her mind was in the gutter by default because he was here.

Maybe it didn’t even have anything to do with him. Maybe it was her. After all, it had been three years since her divorce and even longer since she’d made skin to skin contact with a man.

That was a long time. She hadn’t been conscious of just how long until Jacob had blown back into town.

“There’s nothing to dislike about your muffins.”

She sucked in a sharp breath and choked on it, coughing violently. She turned her head to the crook of her elbow, trying to suppress it. “Sorry.” She patted her chest as she grabbed the portafilter from the espresso machine. “Swallowed wrong.”

She went over to the grinder, ignoring the heat in her cheeks as she turned it on, putting the portafilter beneath it and releasing enough grounds to produce a double shot. She tamped them down and went back to the machine, fitting the portafilter back in and pressing the button, counting the seconds on the shot as it filled the little tin cup she had placed beneath it.

It was a nice distraction, and once again she felt justified in her selection of a manual machine versus an automatic one. She emptied the completed shot into a paper cup and then poured hot water over it, putting the lid on and setting it on the counter. Then she reached into the basket and pulled out the last remaining muffin.

She extended her arm and to hand it to him, only realizing her mistake when the tips of his fingers brushed hers and the shock of pure electricity ran through her body, immobilizing her for a moment.

She looked up and compounded her mistake as their eyes clashed and she was hit by a second bolt of lightning. And for just one nano second, she saw something flash through his eyes too. Something not entirely cool and neutral.

She took her hand off the muffin and it went flying over the edge of the counter and onto the floor somewhere around his feet. She wasn’t sure exactly where, because she was too horrified to look. “I thought you had it. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. No charge. Nobody wants a floor muffin.”

He arched a dark brow, bending down and retrieving the muffin before standing back up and holding it out. “It’s still wrapped. I’m sure it’s fine.”

“No, really. I insist. Everything is on me.” Because, if she charged him, she would have to take his cash and if that happened they might touch again.

“All right, I’m not going to argue with that.” He took his helmet, the muffin and the coffee and turned away, giving her a half wave with the hand that was clutching the coffee cup.

He walked outside again and rounded the back of the shop toward the exterior stairs that led up to his apartment. Cassie let out a breath she hadn’t been aware she was holding.

She really needed to get it together. Yes, Jake Caldwell was back. But now, just like back in high school, there was no point in lusting after him. Nothing had happened then, and nothing was going to happen now. End of story.

And she had more inventory to take.

* * *

JAKE SET THE muffin and the coffee down on his counter and jerked the fridge open. It was early, but he was going to go ahead and grab a beer rather than that afternoon caffeine hit he’d been looking forward to.

Because he didn’t need to be any more amped up than he already was. Something about this damn town screwed with him. Always had. Foolishly, he’d imagined that after so many years away the place might have less power.

Nope. Between the afternoon he’d spent at his dad’s place clearing junk out and that little interaction with Cassie down in the coffee shop, he needed to cool down, not rev up.

He wasn’t the same man he’d been when he left town. So what was it about this place that made him feel like he hadn’t changed all that much? Still not quite able to handle all the shit at home. Still finding himself drawn to the kind of women he shouldn’t be allowed to touch.

Cassie Ventimiglia was one of those nice girls. Caring, way too sweet for her own good. She’d been one of the few people who’d spoken to him back in high school. They’d been thrown together, part of a tutoring program to help his delinquent self get it together and get his grades up.

She’d been tempting, inexplicably. Because she was not the kind of girl he would normally look twice at. But she’d looked at him like she’d seen him, and he’d...

Well, it was just a damn good thing for her he’d left when he had.

But even now, when he’d come back to deal with selling his family’s properties, she’d been first in line to welcome him back, even if it had been unintentional.

By default, he owned the building her business was in, and the place she lived. Going over his dad’s paperwork he could see that before Cassie the building had been out of use for years, and bringing no income in. And while Cassie was getting a better deal than was reasonable, her being in the place was preferable to it sitting there bringing in no revenue at all.

Yeah, Cassie was definitely not the kind of woman for him to go messing around with. Probably he was looking at celibacy for the duration of his sentence in Copper Ridge. He had a history with too many of the women here. Either they’d already been with him in high school, or they hadn’t wanted to be for very specific reasons.

Plus, a one night stand would be almost impossible here. The odds of you running into each other the next day on the street were way too high. Just another reason Seattle suited him a whole lot better than this place.

A little anonymity was much better for a guy like him.

And possibly right now a cold shower would be the thing for a guy like him. Dammit. How long had it been since he’d gotten hard over brushing fingers with a woman? Answer: fifteen years.

He thought again of his last night in Copper Ridge. Sitting in an empty library with Cassie, all of his focus zeroing in on her lips. He’d been saying something about his family and she’d reached out and put her hand over his.

A caring gesture. One that had sent a rush of heat straight through his body and he’d wanted...he’d wanted to close the distance between them then. To kiss her. Deep and hard. To make that connection he felt with her real, physical.

He shook his head. What was it about her? What was it about here?

He grabbed the bottle opener off of the fridge and popped the top on his beer. Taking a sip, he turned to look out the window. His view was of Old Town’s main street. Painted clapboard buildings, with red brick interspersed. An American flag rising up above City Hall. And beyond that was the ocean. Without seeing it he could still picture the coastline. Evergreen trees, yellow bursts of Scotch Broom, and weedy blades of grass with edges sharp enough to cut into your skin.

Across the street, behind the apartment building he was currently residing in, was a long stretch of winding highway, forest, and ranches. Yeah, he knew all of that, could picture it all without having to look.

Copper Ridge hadn’t changed, but he had. He wasn’t the same Jake Caldwell he’d been.

He wasn’t a juvenile delinquent who couldn’t do a damn thing right to save his life. Hell no. He managed a successful business in a very competitive environment. His boss trusted him, and he had done everything he could to earn that trust.

Unlike his old man, his boss actually believed he could do things right.

Which made him wonder yet again why he was here and not back in Seattle in the mechanic shop.

He sighed heavily. That was all because of John too. The older man, who was, unquestionably, a mentor to Jake, had told him he had to come back and handle his family affairs himself. He’d said that was what a man did.

So he was here, handling his family affairs like a man.