Well, it was said that traumatic memories are often triggered by scents, and while his experiences with Emma didn’t qualify as traumatic, they did qualify as annoying.
When they stepped out into the damp evening air, Emma gave a small shiver. Jess’s instinct was to pull her even closer, but instead he eased back, putting a hand on each shoulder and steering her toward his truck. She was keeping her feet well, but he wasn’t taking chances.
“So you’re into purses?” she asked as she negotiated around a puddle.
“Rodeo purses.”
“I have one of those. Lots of silver and fringe—”
“Prize money, Emma.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth, then dropped it and said, “I wasn’t thinking rodeo because, well, you haven’t been competing much. That’s embarrassing.”
“For a girl who used to chase cans, I imagine it is.”
Emma had been one hell of a barrel racer, because the word caution never appeared in her vocabulary. She’d stopped after Len had been killed in the rollover accident on the road leading to their ranch.
He felt her stiffen and figured her thoughts were following the same line as his. He opened the door and handed her up into the truck, thinking that he’d probably never touched Emma this much, ever.
She let out a breath and let her head fall sideways against the window when Jess got into the driver’s seat. He headed for the Starlight—an older, yet immaculately kept motel on the edge of town—and slowed to pull into the lot when Emma jerked suddenly. An instant later she was practically on the floor.
“Drive on.”
“What?”
“Don’t. Pull. In.” When he looked over at her, she was scrunched down so far that she was invisible from the outside. He scanned the parking lot, then saw what had Emma curling up into a ball. Her younger brother Wylie was parked at the far end of the lot. And if he wasn’t mistaken, there was another Sullivan ranch truck parked next to him. Selma, no doubt.
“Take me to your place,” Emma murmured.
Jess opened his mouth to say “No,” but the utter desperation in her voice made him shut it again. He abruptly put the truck into gear.
“Thank you.” She spoke so low he barely heard her.
“I think you can sit up now.”
She pushed herself upright and let her head fall back again, squeezing her eyes shut. “I don’t feel so well.”
Jess stepped on the gas. Ten minutes later they were at the field that he called home. After his twin moved out, Jess had never felt cramped in the small camp trailer he lived in while saving money. He was going to feel cramped tonight.
After parking near the trailer, he started around to the passenger side of the truck. That was when he realized—too late, of course—that he’d parked too close to the big puddle that had formed during yesterday’s long rain.
“Em—”
Down she went. He heard her scramble and curse, and by the time he got around the hood of the truck, she was getting back to her feet and wiping wet hands down the sides of her pants.
“This sucks.”
“Sorry.”
She frowned at him first and then at the puddle next to her, all but invisible in the darkness, since he hadn’t bothered to leave the porch light on.
“Where are we?”
“My place.”
She looked around the dark field where his trailer, the only man-made structure within a mile, was parked. “Are you sure?”
“Positive. Come on.” He took hold of her elbow as they walked together toward the trailer, but Emma pulled free.
“I could have used you a few minutes ago. I’m fine now.”
“Whatever,” he muttered. He unlocked the door and opened it, then stepped back as Emma climbed the metal steps. He followed her into the trailer and snapped on the light before closing the door, thus trapping the two of them in too small of a place.
You can’t abandon Len’s little sister.
The truth was that he wouldn’t have abandoned her even if she wasn’t related to Len. That wasn’t the kind of guy he was. He’d watch out for Emma until she was in a proper condition to do battle with Selma, who wanted her to wear the dress.
How stupid was that?
Emma grimaced down at her wet jeans, then shook her head as if thrusting the matter out of her mind.
“What’s all that stuff?” she asked, pointing at the canvas duffels and plastic storage containers.
“That’s my life for the next month.”
“The rodeo. Right.” She lost interest and swayed just a little as she crossed the tiny room and sat on the seat under the window. “Can I sleep here?”
“Sleep in my bed.”
“Where will you sleep?”
She seemed only mildly interested in the answer as she once again slumped sideways.
“Tyler’s bunk.” The small built-in bed in the hallway leading to the tiny bedroom at the back of the trailer.
“I’m fine here...” Em’s voice started to trail off. She was fading fast. Jess crossed the room and pulled her up to her feet, ignoring her muttered protests.
“You’ll do better in the bedroom.” That way he could get up, make coffee, start his day, while she slept it off. He propelled her down the hall, opening the door just before his bedroom. “Bathroom,” he said. He opened the bedroom door and pointed inside. “Your bed.” He turned her so that she was square with the bathroom. “Are you good?”
“The best,” she muttered before taking a stumbling step into the bathroom and closing the door in his face.
Jess shut his eyes, let out a breath.
Len would want him to do this.
Emma woke with a start, pushed herself up on one elbow, then collapsed with a low groan as her brain let out a mighty protest.
Where was she?
Think.
She tried. Her brain was still playing games with her. She opened her eyes again, took in the clues. She was in a rumpled bed in a travel trailer—
A surge of relief washed over her. Jess. She was with Jess Hayward. She was safe from her
