Shushing him, she pressed her back to the sun-warmed barn. The paint would rub off on her shorts, but a barn-red butt was a small price to pay for scaring her dad into one of his creative cussing streaks.
She heard the rasp of wood on wood, then bang—a drawer slammed shut. Tensing, she tightened her smile to restrain the laugh trapped high in her chest.
Footsteps hit the hollow floor, approaching the door. She counted.
Five, four, three, two…
“Arooooo!”
With a crazed coyote howl, she leapt for the shadowy form in the doorway, knowing with giddy certainty her daddy would catch her, like he always did.
The wire cutters rattled to the ground, and a masculine grunt greeted the impact of her body.
She was caught, all right. The only trouble was, that wasn’t her father’s grunt. It wasn’t his body, either.
It was Cade Walker’s.
***
Cade had pictured his reunion with Jess waking, and he’d pictured it in dreams. He’d pictured it happy, and he’d pictured it hard. But he’d never pictured it quite like this.
Momentarily blinded when he stepped out of the dim barn, he was shocked, even scared, when a howling bundle of womanhood slammed into his chest. He’d almost pushed Jess away—but then she’d kissed him.
It was a family kind of kiss, not a romantic one, and it landed on his cheek instead of the other body parts that would have been happy to host it. But it was still a kiss from Jess, and that made it electrifying. He caught the familiar scent of her—grass and flowers, summer sun and peaches—and his heart sailed away on an ocean of happy memories.
But the seas were choppy. She was fighting him like a cat in a bathtub.
“Let…me…go!”
He couldn’t. For one thing, he needed to look at her—just drink her in like a tonic that warmed his heart, plus a whole lot of other body parts. Jess wasn’t a classic beauty, being taller and stronger than most movie-star types. But with her wild blonde curls tumbling down her back, her blue eyes sparkling with energy, and her lithe, fit body warm and strong in his hands, she’d always been his feminine ideal.
She managed to wrench herself away, but he kept his grip on one firm thigh. The ground sloped steeply to the rocky drive, and she’d fall if he didn’t hang on.
Floundering for balance, she hopped madly down the slope.
“Let go,” she snarled, slapping his arm. “I thought you were my dad. Let me go!”
She always reminded him of some sort of wild critter. Usually, it was something sweet, like a rabbit or a deer. But there were times she was a cat—slinky, smooth, and lovely to look at, but all claws and teeth if you got too close.
This was one of those times, and he was apparently way too close.
***
Excerpted from Cowboy Summer by Joanne Kennedy. © 2019 by Joanne Kennedy. Used with permission of the publisher, Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc. All rights reserved.
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Also by Joanne Kennedy:
One Fine Cowboy
Cowboy Fever
Tall, Dark and Cowboy
Cowboy Crazy
About the Author
Joanne Kennedy is the RITA-nominated author of ten contemporary Western romance novels. The first book in her Decker Ranch Trilogy, How to Handle a Cowboy, was named one of Booklist’s “Best Romances of the Decade.” She lives near Cheyenne, Wyoming. Joanne loves to hear from readers and can be reached through her website, www.joannekennedybooks.com.
