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“How did you hear about Safe Haven?” he asked as soon as the path widened and Shea seemed more relaxed.
“The internet.”
“Were you specifically looking in Montana?”
“No.”
Jesse had to smile. The woman could never be accused of being too wordy. Since they’d left the ranch it seemed he started most conversations. Silence generally suited him. Folks considered him the quietest of the three brothers and he couldn’t recall meeting a woman who could match him in that department. Until now.
The differences between Shea and most of the guests who’d been coming to the Sundance were even more apparent since they’d met for the ride. Some of those women had been worse than coyotes stalking a calf separated from the herd. They had no compunction about letting a man know they were looking for vacation sex. Clearly they didn’t understand that the chase was part of the fun. Last month one of them had pretended she’d caught him alone in the barn by accident. He’d given her high marks for playing the game with some smarts, but he still hadn’t been interested. He didn’t need any potential complications. Cole had met Jamie when she’d come to the ranch as a guest, but he was lucky. The whole thing could’ve gone sideways.
Jesse let Shea have her silence the few minutes it took to get to the meadow. Now that they were just below the snow line, there were only pockets of ice, but he figured this was still the nicest place around for them to eat. While he tethered the horses, he asked her to spread the blanket he kept in his saddlebag, then pour them coffee from the thermos while he dug out their snacks.
Taking her time, she made sure the ground was free of pebbles and twigs, then shook out the wool blanket and smoothed it all the way to the corners. Apparently the placement didn’t meet with her approval because she rearranged it… twice. Then she stepped back with a critical eye, and bit at her lower lip.
When it looked as if she were going to start over, he stopped her. “You invite guests I don’t know about?”
She blinked at him. “What?”
God save him from perfectionists. “It’s fine, Shea.”
She followed his gaze and stared at the blanket. “Oh. Right.” Her cheek dimpled with her smile. “Don’t worry. I’m not really crazy. A little compulsive, absentminded sometimes, but nothing certifiable.” She rubbed her palms down the front of her jeans, then picked up the thermos and unscrewed the top.
“You mind me asking what you do for a living?”
She hesitated. “I’m a software engineer.” She glanced around. “Do we have another cup?”
He rooted in the saddlebag for a tin cup he used when camping, wondering if that meant she was a computer jockey. “Here.”
“I’ll pour.”
Holding the cup up to her, he watched while she focused on filling it within a quarter inch of the rim. “That’s good.”
“Oops, I should’ve asked if you’d be adding cream and sugar.”
“Nope. I drink it black. So do you, so I didn’t bring any.”
“How did you know that?” she asked, staring at him and absently blowing the long bangs out of her eyes.
“Last night. After dinner.” He took a quick sip. The warmth felt good going down. “You didn’t use cream or sugar.”
“Oh.” She tilted her head to the side, as if mulling over what he’d said. “What do you do for a living?”
The question stopped him. Last time he’d been asked he was sitting in a bar in Vegas near Nellis Air Force Base. A blonde had sidled up to him and it was obvious she already knew he was a pilot before she’d opened her mouth. One fine thing about flying, you never had to be without a woman. But that night he’d lied, told her he was in data entry. She’d disappeared in seconds.
“I work at the ranch.” He shrugged. “Doing whatever needs doing.”
“I suppose that makes sense.” She poured coffee for herself then seemed flustered that she didn’t have a free hand to screw the thermos cap back on.
Jesse set his cup aside, took the thermos from her and completed the task. “You sound doubtful.”
“Do I?” She pursed her lips. “Probably because you seem different than Cole and Trace.”
“They look like real cowboys and I don’t?”
Shea frowned thoughtfully. “That might be it.”
He’d been teasing so that made him laugh.
“What?” She wrapped both hands around her cup and sipped, staring warily at him over the rim. She looked so earnest he had no idea what to make of her.
“Let’s sit.” He indicated the blanket she’d painstakingly spread. “I’m hungry.”
She reached behind and rubbed her butt and lower back. “I think I’ll stand.”
He cringed inwardly at the pinched expression on her face. Probably his fault. “Too long in the saddle?”
“No, I just need to loosen up.” She shivered. “And warm up.”
“Here.” He set down his coffee and unzipped his jacket.
“What are you doing?”
“Wear this. It’ll help—”
“No.” She moved back. “I’m not taking your jacket.”
“I’ll be okay.”
“No, absolutely not.” She retreated another step and coffee sloshed onto her hand.
He took the cup from her, then finished shrugging out of his jacket. “My fault. I should’ve made sure you were dressed appropriately to come up here.”
“Please,” she said tightly. “I’m not comfortable with this.”
Jesse was the one to step back this time. He made sure there was plenty of space between them, wondering what she thought he was going to do. Jesus, he’d clearly given her the wrong idea.
“I’m sorry,” he said, hooking the jacket onto his thumb and putting up both hands. “I didn’t mean anything.”
“No.” Her eyes widened and her cheeks turned pink. “No, it’s not you. It’s just… I can’t let you freeze because I hadn’t planned well. I’d feel awful.”
Relieved, he smiled. “Hey, I’m made of tough cowboy stock. I eat bullets for breakfast. I can take the cold.”
“Put your jacket on,” she said, with a small upward tilt of her lips. “Even your ears are red.”
He touched them. Ice cold. The downside of wearing his hair so short. “Okay, this is how it’s going to be.…” He slid on his jacket but didn’t zip it. Then he swooped up the blanket she’d carefully arranged. He shook off the clinging pebbles and dried leaves, folded the blanket in half and threw it around her shoulders.
“What—?” She tried to back up but he stopped her.
He gathered the ends together under her chin, aware that his fingers had brushed her breasts. The contact was innocent and unintentional, the down jacket thick enough that he didn’t feel the need to apologize. That would make it worse.
“Come on,” he said, pulling the blanket more snugly around her. “Doesn’t this feel better?”
She shuddered again, huddled under the blanket and stared at him with eyes slightly wide, slightly confused. Her gloved hands slid over his to grasp the bunched wool. “Thank you.”
“Got