a warm summer day.
She snuck a peek at him from beneath lowered lashes.
When he’d picked her up from the airport it had taken all she had inside her not to do just that, grab the man and kiss him.
As a woman this time and not a girl, Yasmine thought, remembering their first and only kiss.
It had been right before he was leaving for college. When she’d first come to the ranch after her parents died, she’d immediately clung to her aunt, who’d been her father’s sister. Too shy to speak to anyone besides Lilly, it hadn’t been long before she’d felt welcomed into the Wilde family. Some of her shyness had begun to wear off and she felt comfortable around the family, as well as those who worked the ranch.
All except for Holt. From the moment she first met him, she’d been mesmerized by him. Their age difference had been only three years, yet he seemed so much more … older, more sure of himself. Of all the Wilde men, Holt was the most outgoing. She shook her head in memory. He was the most outrageous.
As they grew older, she remembered her aunt laughing at some of his antics, claiming Holt could charm the honey from a queen bee.
Not that he’d ever flirted with her, she thought, stealing a glance at him as he drove, his strong hands lightly resting on the steering wheel. At best he treated her as little more than a younger sister, and even then he barely spoke to her.
She glanced away, turning her attention back to the window, blindly watching the landscape as they sped down the two-lane highway.
No, with her he was always polite, yet she’d always felt as though he’d held her at a distance. That feeling only grew as they got older. Whenever she was around, Holt always seemed to find a reason to leave the room. Often, it left her feeling confused, embarrassed and hurt all at once.
But that didn’t stop the crush she had on him the size of the Teton Mountains from growing.
Once she’d followed him to one of the barns after seeing him come home late at night. It had been the week before he was leaving for college. She’d snuck inside and although she knew what she was doing was wrong, she peeked through a hole in the stable where he’d taken the girl he’d come home with.
She’d drawn in a deep breath when she saw Holt and the girl locked in an embrace, her blouse off and skirt hiked up as he was moments away from making love to her. He must have heard the sound, because he pulled away from the girl and glanced around, his features pinched.
Embarrassed and afraid she’d get caught, she’d quietly fled the stable, but not before she heard the girl’s entreaty that he return and the soft giggles that turned to moans as he quickly picked up where he’d left off before being interrupted.
That same night Yasmine stayed up, images of Holt and the half-naked girl plaguing her mind, until finally she’d sat up in bed, determined to tell him how she felt, unable to keep her feelings to herself.
She’d opened the door, not exactly sure what she was going to do, when he was walking down the hallway, a towel wrapped around his lean hips.
Yasmine gulped, her eyes rolling over the length of his hard naked chest that even then showed the promise of the man he’d become.
He’d smiled at her, subtly adjusting the towel, and asked what she was doing up so late.
She’d stuttered, making idle chat, before shyly telling him she was going to miss him when he left for school. She’d smiled, stuck out her chest in her best imitation of Amanda, the girl he’d taken to the barn, and leaned against the door, trying her best to appear sexy but knowing she was failing miserably.
His smile had slipped and Yasmine knew she should just stop, go back inside her room and abandon her plan. But she didn’t.
This was the last time she’d probably have alone with him before he left. If she didn’t tell him how she felt now, she didn’t think she’d ever be able to summon the courage to do it.
It was now or never, she’d thought.
“I’ll miss you, too, Yas,” he’d said, drawing nearer. He placed his hand on top of her head as though to ruffle her hair. For some reason that was the impetus she needed to show him she wasn’t a kid anymore.
At that moment, she’d grabbed him, pulled him inside her bedroom and kissed him with all the passion and longing she’d had building up for him for six years.
At first he’d been still as a statue, but a moment before he broke free, she felt his lips soften and a hint of a response. He’d wrapped his arm around her waist and dug deeply into the skin, the thin, flimsy nightshirt she wore riding up enough that the heat from his palm scorched the skin on her back. The kiss lasted little longer than a few seconds before he’d broken free, a deep frown settling over his handsome, chiseled features.
Yasmine had been so embarrassed she’d wanted to crawl up into a hole somewhere and die. She didn’t need him to say a word—the look on his face, a mixture of anger and pity, said it all.
She stumbled away and spun around, hoping to God he’d just leave and not say anything to her. Just leave. She felt a hand on her shoulder and swallowed down the melon-ball lump that had gathered in her gut and turned to face him.
“Yasmine, I—”
She held up a hand, stopping him before he could continue, and forced a trembling smile on her face. “I’m sorry, Holt, I don’t know what came over me … Can we just forget that I did that? Please?” The last word was barely above a whisper. She was so choked up with embarrassment she simply wanted him to go away.
His eyes searched hers, concern darkening his blue eyes to a smoky gray. With a nod he patted her awkwardly on the shoulder and left her room.
As soon as he did, Yasmine, in true teenage-girl form, full-on angst, cried herself to sleep.
The next day, Jed packed up the truck and he and Holt headed off to get him settled into the dorms.
That was the last time Yasmine was ever alone with Holt.
Since then, on the occasions she came to visit her aunt, she made sure that Holt was nowhere around. Anything else would have been too mortifying.
Yasmine settled back in the seat, and unable to resist, again cast Holt a sideways glance.
When he’d taken her bags at the airport, she’d caught the way his glance had stolen over her and had barely refrained from patting her hair and checking her makeup. Tall, he stood at least a foot taller than she. Thankfully she’d opted to wear heels traveling, giving her the added inches so she at least didn’t have to crane her neck to see his face.
He hadn’t removed his Stetson when he greeted her, and glancing up at him, her breath had caught at the back of her throat, as he was a living, breathing poster boy for raw, masculine cowboy if she ever saw one.
Lord, the man was fine, she thought, expelling a long breath while mentally reciting over and over that she was an adult and no longer an adolescent with a schoolgirl’s crush.
When he’d turned toward her after placing her luggage in the back, her self-affirming mantra reminding her of her sophistication flew right on out the window, and she felt like the shy, adolescent
