Page 6 of Falling for the Cowgirl
Lord in heaven help him. Before she could push herself up, he jerked his gaze heavenward and spun as fast as he could, nearly tripping and falling into the cold water. “Ivy McQuaid! What in the name of heaven do you think you’re doing?”
“Reckon I oughta give you a gander at a woman, since you don’t know what one looks like.”
His mouth went dry. “Don’t you even think about it.” From what he could tell from her stillness behind him, she’d abandoned her plan. Regardless, a part of him wanted to turn around and peek. Thank the Lord he had a willpower of steel, and he stood as stationary and straight as a lamppost. “Get out and get some clothes on. Now.”
“I’m not a girl, Jericho. And it’s about time you realized it.”
From the little bit he’d seen of her above the water, he agreed. She was all woman and even more gorgeous than he remembered.
But it didn’t matter. She was still Ivy. And he’d always think of her as Dylan’s little sister, a gangly girl in two braids, a fun playmate during the trip across the Santa Fe Trail. That’s all.
She expelled a long, drawn-out sigh, one filled with exasperation. Then from the splashing he could tell she was making her way toward the shore. She was right there behind him, dripping wet, wearing nothing but her unmentionables and the skin she’d been born in.
His pulse gave a swift and hard surge, sending heat right through him. “It’s about time you stopped acting like a wanton woman.”
“A wanton woman?” Hurt tinged her question.
Maybe in the short term his rebuke would hurt her feelings, but if he could keep her safe—even from himself—that’s all that mattered. “Yes. And while you’re at it, stop pretending to be a man.”
At the shuffling of linen, he tried to block out the image of her slipping on her garments, but just the prospect was enough to send more warmth through his gut. He pressed his palms over his eyes, as if that could somehow make the picture disappear. He couldn’t let his thoughts about Ivy get carried away, not after all these years of keeping them from wandering.
“You’ve got no right to be upset with me,” she said.
“Why not?”
“You ain’t had a part in my life for so long, what makes you think you can tell me what to do now?”
Weren’t those nearly the same words he’d spouted at his dad shortly after his return home when his dad had started ordering him around and planning his life? After Dad had abandoned him time after time, Jericho had resented his sudden interest.
Was that how Ivy felt? Maybe it wasn’t his place to start bossing Ivy around. On the other hand, now that he washere, how could he ignore her foolishness? Someone had to talk some sense into her before she got herself hurt or killed.
“I guess I don’t have any right to tell you what to do after being gone all this time, but lucky for you, I’m planning to tell you anyway.”
Chapter
3
Ivy tugged up her split skirt over her drawers. Her wet skin made the process of dressing painfully slow. And her frozen fingers and limbs were sluggish to obey the commands her mind was giving them.
The thrill of seeing Jericho in the river and knowing he’d followed her back from Elkhorn Ranch had vanished the second he called her a young girl and told her she was childish. She’d wanted to throw a bucket of icy water in his face and wake him up to the fact that she wasn’t a girl anymore and hadn’t been even when he’d left Colorado.
Maybe he was right about her threat to stand up in her unmentionables—ithadbeen a tad wanton. But Jericho was about as dense as a brick. He’d always talked down to her like she was stupid, had always seen her as more of nuisance than anything else. Even those last couple of years before he left, he’d viewed her as a little girl.
Her face flushed just thinking about what she’d almost done in standing up in the river so brazenly, and her fingersfumbled at the skirt button at her hip. Of course, leave it to Jericho to be too noble to look at her. She shoulda known he wouldn’t.
Even now, he remained unmoving in the stream, facing the opposite way, waiting and giving her plenty of time to cover herself. Part of her respected him for treating her so carefully. But another part of her wished he’d finally recognize how grown-up she was.
She shook her head. It didn’t matter. She swiped up her blouse, stuffing in first one arm and then the other, the thin material sticking to her skin.
“Why’re you here, Jericho?” The question had burned within her during the ride to the ranch.
“After almost killing yourself in that race, what do you expect?”
She wasn’t asking about why he was standing there right now. She wanted to know why he’d come back to Colorado—if he was here to stay or just passing through. But asking him those kinds of questions would make it seem like she cared too much and had been thinking about him often. And she didn’t anymore—care or think about him. She’d put her infatuation with Jericho Bliss far from her mind a long time ago. “I didn’t almost kill myself.”
He snuck a glance at her over his shoulder. At seeing her fully clothed, the tension seemed to ease from his stiff spine, and he began to wade out of the water toward her.
“I had a hiccup near the end but caught myself just fine.”
