Love Under The Big Sky: Falling For Jillian Part 38

"Why not?" Josh asks with a broad smile.

"Well . . ." I look back and forth between the two guys and then sigh when I can't come up with a good reason not to. "I'm not dressed for riding."

Josh's gaze falls to my red sundress before his brown eyes find mine again. "Wear jeans tomorrow."

"I'm not here to learn how to ride a horse, I'm here to teach Seth."

"No reason that you can't do both," Josh replies with a grin, and winks at me, his dimple creasing his cheek, waking those b.u.t.terflies in my stomach.

"Am I keeping you from work?" I change the subject and pop a piece of watermelon in my mouth, doing my best not to squirm in my chair.

"I have to go paint the fence," Seth mutters, and swigs down the last of his c.o.ke, making me laugh.

"What?" he asks.

"When I drove up to the house and saw the white fence, I thought to myself, 'I don't envy the person who has to paint this every couple of years.'"

"It was either paint the fence or shovel the horse s.h.i.+t," Seth replies matter-of-factly.

"Mouth!" Josh scowls, pinning Seth with a look, and Seth rolls his eyes.

"Horse c.r.a.p."

"I think I'd take the fence too," I agree, but Seth just shrugs his thin shoulders and frowns. "You look so much like your dad." I shake my head and reach for another piece of watermelon before I realize that both Seth and Josh have gone still.

"I do not," Seth whispers.

"Well, you look just like your uncle Josh, and Josh and Zack are twins, so . . ." I tilt my head to one side and watch Seth's face tighten.

"I'm nothing like my dad," he insists.

"Okay, I'm sorry."

Seth pins me with a scowl, then grabs his trash and lets himself into the house to dump it, stalks through the house, and slams the front door behind him.

"I'm sorry," I whisper again.

"It's okay. He's p.i.s.sed at my brother. Won't talk about it, just won't have anything at all to do with him." Josh purses his lips and sighs, still watching the path Seth took through the house. My eyes are glued to his lips and I'm mortified to realize that I want him to kiss me.

And not just a sweet thank-you-for-teaching-my-nephew kiss, but a long, slow kiss that lasts forever and makes me forget how to breathe. I want to sink my fingers into his thick, dark hair and feel his large, callused hands glide down my back as he pulls me against him.

I want him to touch me.

Josh begins to pack up the remains of our lunch and I take a deep breath and join him.

"When he smiled at you earlier? That's the first time I've seen him smile since he's been here."

"Josh, I'm so sorry. He's a great kid, and he's really smart. I think we'll have him back on track with his grades without a problem."

"Thank you." Josh replaces the lid on the fruit and throws it in the cooler. "You know, Kyle didn't tell me who he was sending out here. I was surprised when I saw it was you."

"Why?"

"I don't know, but I'm glad you're here. I wasn't kidding before-you look fantastic."

I blush and concentrate on rewrapping the chicken and placing it in the cooler.

"I'm not a hermit, Josh. Like I said before, you've seen me around."

"In pa.s.sing. Not like this. I like it."

I stand up and cross my arms over my chest, then frown when he stands too and is more than a foot taller than me.

I've always been so d.a.m.n short.

"Are you flirting with me?" I ask.

"Maybe." He pushes the lid down on the ice chest, then moves around the table to stand right next to me, and I have to tilt my head way back to see his eyes. "You always were a little thing."

"Little?! Oh my G.o.d." I giggle and throw a hand over my mouth. "I'm just short. h.e.l.l, in high school I was f-"

"If you say fat, I will take you over my knee, Carolina. You were not fat then, you're not fat now, and next to me, you are tiny." He sets his mouth in a disapproving line and pulls on a lock of my hair. "Your pretty blond hair is soft."

"Don't f-flirt with me," I stutter halfheartedly. Instead of moving away, I sway toward him, my heart racing.

"Why not?" He grins and continues to gently pull my hair between his thumb and forefinger, watching the strands as they fall out of his grasp.

"Because I'm your employee for the summer, and I like my job. It's not like there are dozens of middle schools here in town that I can work at if I get fired." I step away, pulling myself together, doing my best to remind myself of the blonde I saw leaving his house this morning and how I do not want to be another notch in Josh King's bedpost. I open his sliding screen door and gather my tote bag and purse and turn to find him standing right behind me again. "I have to go."

He sighs, props his hands on his hips, and looks as if he wants to say more, so I turn on my heel and walk briskly to the door.

"I'll walk you out," he mutters, and walks quickly to keep up with me. He holds his front door open for me, and I feel his hand on my lower back as he guides me to my little blue car.

He opens the door for me and settles my bags into the pa.s.senger seat.

"You're very chivalrous," I inform him dryly.

As I move to sit in the driver's seat, he runs his hand down my bare arm, very much as he did with Blondie this morning, and smiles.

"Thanks for doing this, Cara. Don't forget to wear jeans tomorrow." With that he winks and shuts my door, stepping back to watch me drive away.

Looks like I'll be wearing shorts tomorrow.

It's Lauren's turn for Love Under the Big Sky!

Keep reading for a peek at New York Times bestselling author Kristen Proby's second installment in the Love Under the Big Sky series, Seducing Lauren On sale now!

CHAPTER.

One.

LAUREN.

"Hey, Lauren."

"Hi, Jacob, what can I do for you?" I ask with a smile, and open my front door wider for the friendly county sheriff's deputy.

"Well, I'm serving you." He offers me an embarra.s.sed smile and hands me a large envelope, then backs away. "Have a good day."

I move back inside, shut the door, and stare down at the envelope in surprise.

Served?

I rip open the envelope and see bright, flaming inferno red as I read the court doc.u.ment. And read it again.

"The f.u.c.ker is suing me?" I exclaim to an empty room, and read the letter clutched in my now trembling hands for the third time. "h.e.l.l no!"

I grab my handbag and slide my feet into flip-flops, barely managing not to fall down the porch steps as I tear out of my house to my Mercedes and pull out of the circular driveway.

I live at the edge of Cunningham Falls, Montana. The small town was named after my great-grandfather Albert Cunningham. Ours is a tourist town that boasts a five-star ski resort and a plethora of outdoor activities for any season. Thankfully, summer tourist season is over, and ski season is still a few months away, so traffic into town is light.

I zoom past the post office and into the heart of downtown, where my lawyer's office is. Without paying any attention to the yellow curb, I park quickly and march into the old building.

The receptionist's head jerks up in surprise as I approach her and slam the letter still clutched in my hand on her desk.

"This," I say between clenched teeth, "isn't going to happen."

"Ms. Cunningham, do you have an appointment?"

"No, I don't have an appointment, but someone had better have time to see me." I am seething; my breath is coming in harsh pants.

"Lauren." My head whips up at the sound of my name and I find Ty Sullivan frowning at me from his office doorway. "I can see you. Come in."

I turn my narrowed eyes on Ty and follow him into his office, too agitated to sit while I wait for him to shut the door and walk behind his desk.

"What's going on?"

"I need a new lawyer."

"What's going on?" he asks again, and calmly leans against the windowsill behind his desk. He crosses his arms over his chest. The sleeves of his white b.u.t.ton-down are rolled, giving me a great view of the colorful tattoo on his right arm.

"This is what's going on!" I thrust the letter at him. "Jack is trying to sue me for half of a trust fund that he has no right to."

Ty's handsome face frowns as he skims the letter. "You came into the trust while you were still married?"

"Yes," I confirm warily.

"And you didn't tell him about it?" he asks with raised brows.

"I didn't even know the d.a.m.n thing existed until after my parents died, Ty. Until after I kicked Jack out." I turn and pace away, breathing deeply, trying to calm down. "He doesn't deserve a dime of my inheritance. This isn't about money, it's about principle."

"I agree." Ty shrugs. "Have you talked with Cary?"

"I was just served with the letter," I mumble, and sink into a leather chair in defeat. "Cary's a nice guy, but I just don't think he's the right lawyer for this job." I glance up at Ty and my heart skips a beat as I take him in now that I'm calming down. He's tall, much taller than me-which is saying something, given that I stand higher than five foot eight. He has broad shoulders and lean hips, and holy h.e.l.l, the things this man does to a suit should be illegal in all fifty states.

But more than that, he's kind and funny and has a bit of a bad-boy side to him too, hence the tattoos.

He's been front and center in many of my fantasies for most of my life.

I bite my lips and glance down as his eyes narrow on my face.

"Why do you say that?" he asks calmly.

"It took two freaking years for the divorce to be final, Ty. I don't want Cary to drag this out too."

"It wasn't necessarily Cary's fault that the divorce took so long, Lauren. Jack had a good lawyer and your divorce was a mess."

That's the f.u.c.king understatement of the year. "Will you take my case?"

"No," he replies quickly.

"What?" My dazed eyes return to his. "Why?"

He shakes his head and sighs as he takes a seat behind his desk. "I have a full load as it is, Lo."

"You're more aggressive than Cary," I begin, but halt when he scowls.

"I really don't think I can help you."

I sit back and stare at him, stunned. "You mean you won't." I hate the hurt I hear in my voice, but I can't hide it. I know Ty and I aren't super close, but I've considered him a friend. I can't believe he's shooting me down.

He folds the letter and hands it back to me, his mouth set in a firm line and blue-gray eyes sober. "No, I won't. Make an appointment with Cary and talk it over with him."