Page 63 of Hidden Fires

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Before she realized it, Lauren was joining his laughter. They were like two children let loose from restrictions for the first time. Jared risked looking at her when he heard her laugh. He realized his error when his eyes returned to the road. It had curved and they were headed for the ditch. “Hold on!” he shouted as he applied the brakes. They slowed then, but the automobile was going too fast. The wheels locked and the car spun crazily until it slid off the road and the front wheel on the driver’s side sank up to the hub in the soft ground. Jared cut the chugging, choking motor.

They were gasping for breath, momentarily shaken over their narrow escape from death or severe injury. The car sat at a perilous angle and Lauren had been thrown against Jared. He looked down at her and asked, “Are you all right?”

She took stock of herself. “Yes, I’m fine,” she answered breathlessly. “I’m not so sure about Kurt’s Oldsmobile.”

Then they burst into spontaneous laughter. They laughed so hard that tears gathered in their eyes. It was the first time they had ever laughed together. There had been times when one of the Mendez children had reduced the family to laughter with an antic, but this was different. This was a personal moment that they were sharing.

Lauren dabbed at her eyes with her gloved hands and drew the long, lethal-looking hatpins from her hair. The hat came off and her heavy bun drooped almost to her shoulders; strands of hair escaped it completely.

Jar

ed’s merriment subsided and, of its own volition, his hand touched the knot of hair resting against her neck. She raised her eyes to his and they held only briefly before she was in his arms. It happened quietly, naturally, instinctively. He held her to him and whispered her name repeatedly against her ear, his breath sending shivers of pleasure down her spine.

He drew back and searched her eyes for some sign of rejection, but saw only invitation. His mouth took hers in a telling kiss. Their lips sought and found and celebrated each other. The kiss was tender, but held promise of restrained passion. It was committing, but left room for reservation, for caution. It was a kiss for the moment. For now. Only now.

Jared pulled away from her and studied her face, startled by the intensity of his feelings. They stared at each other in a silent communication. Then Jared rasped, “Lauren, kiss me again. Kiss me—”

“Lauren, are you injured?” Kurt was galloping toward them pell-mell. He reined up before his car and dismounted, running to Lauren’s side and offering his hands up to her. Before she could assure him she didn’t want to be rescued from Jared’s embrace, his beefy hands gripped her around the waist and swung her down to the ground. “Lauren, are you all right? That idiot could have killed—”

The breath gushed out of Kurt’s body when Jared’s fist landed squarely in his stomach after first spinning him around. Kurt landed on his back in the ditch and, before he could regain his breath, Jared had straddled his chest and pushed the barrel of his pistol against Kurt’s nose.

“If you ever, ever, touch my wife again, I’ll kill you, Vandiver.” His face was an inch from Kurt’s and the words were strained through his teeth. “If you even look like you’re thinking of touching her, I’ll kill you. Do you understand me?”

“Get that goddam gun out of my face,” Kurt said with misplaced bravery. “It’s not loaded. You emptied it on that last round.” He struggled but couldn’t budge Jared.

The clicking sound of metal on metal as Jared cocked the pistol arrested Kurt’s futile movements. “Are you so sure it’s empty, Vandiver?” Jared taunted.

Kurt laughed nervously. “There’s no way in hell you could have kept from firing that sixth shot as fast as you were fanning.”

“You forgot that there was one target left,” Jared said smoothly.

“Even so,” Kurt persisted, though his voice was beginning to waver and he was perspiring profusely, “everyone knows cowboys leave the first chamber empty.”

Jared shrugged negligently. “Some do. Those not confident in their abilities. In all humility, I’m not one of those.”

“The damn gun isn’t loaded!” Kurt screamed as Jared shoved the barrel further into his fleshy nose.

“Wanna bet?” Jared drawled.

With the merest movement, he turned his hand and fired the pistol only inches from Kurt’s head. The bullet embedded itself in one of the rubber tires of the car.

The blood drained from Kurt’s face and he began making a whimpering sound.

“I could have hit that last target, Vandiver, but no fool carries around an unloaded pistol.” With disdain, Jared stood up and stepped over the groveling, inert form.

“Señor Jared!” Pepe came riding up on Charger with several other riders trailing him. “Are you all right? Is the señora all right?”

He reined in the palomino stallion and slid off his back, running up to them.

“Yes, yes, we’re fine,” Jared assured him. “Had a helluva good time, too. Can’t say much for the car.” Lauren knew that he was speaking for the benefit of the curiosity seekers who had followed them. “I don’t think it’ll ever be as thrilling as galloping on Charger. And he sure as hell has better sense than to go off in a ditch.”

All of them laughed, relieved that no one was hurt. Mr. Vandiver looked a little peaked, but he was just worried about his car, they thought.

“Lauren.” Jared extended his hand and she took it. He led her to Charger and lifted her to the saddle. He mounted behind her, putting his arms firmly around her.

“Pepe, can you ride with someone back to the park?”

“Sí, Señor Jared.”


Tags: Sandra Brown Historical