Page 28 of Cowboy and the Convict

Taking his offered hand just in case she struggled as much to get off as she had to get on, Janie slid down to the ground. Devon's hand was warm and strong in hers, and even once she was steady, he didn't let go, giving her palm a squeeze as he led her through the trees.

The ground started to angle, and her feet skidded a little, making her yelp. He glanced down at her sneakers. "We might have to get you some boots if we decide to make a habit of this."

Was that what he was planning? To make a habit of taking evening horseback rides together? She'd certainly spent her evenings in worse ways, but the constant reminder of the kind of woman she would never be—and things she would never have—had her feeling hesitant.

Right up until she saw what Devon was so excited about.

The trees in front of them opened up to reveal the rushing waters of a creek. Directly in front of them was a wide shelf of flat rock that dropped off to create a waterfall that was almost three feet high. It wasn't majestic or awe inspiring, but it was prettier than anything she'd ever had in her own backyard. Coupled with the horseback ride to get here, the little natural wonder felt a little magical.

"Holy crap. This is beautiful." Janie moved closer to the edge, crouching down to let her hands trail in the current. "It's also fucking cold."

Devon chuckled, lowering beside her. "It's not too bad in the summer. Still cold, but it feels refreshing then."

"I can imagine." She let her fingers drag through the water a few more seconds before flicking it away and wiping her skin dry on her jeans. "Thank you for bringing me here. It really is beautiful." She turned toward him and their eyes locked, the intensity in his gaze making her breath seize in her lungs.

She should put some distance between them. Hell, she should run her ass all the way back to her car and drive away. Get as far from Devon and his horses and his waterfall and his butt-showcasing dad jeans as possible.

But no one had ever looked at her the way he was now. Like she wasn’t a failure with a bad attitude and a terrible track record.

His eyes moved over her face as he reached up to smooth back that damn piece of hair she’d cut as punishment for not staying where she put it, curving it behind one ear before tracing his fingers down the line of her jaw. “You’re really beautiful.”

It was a corny line, one she’d heard countless times before, but it hit differently coming from him. And without thinking, she leaned in and pressed her lips to his.

His mouth was firm and full, and before she could fully process what she’d done, Devon was pulling her close. One strong hand curved against the back of her neck as the other dragged her body to his. Dropping to his ass in the dirt, he hauled her across his lap, never once breaking the kiss she’d accidentally started.

The scent of his skin was amplified this close. It swarmed her senses, permeating every inch of her as he nipped at her lower lip, sucking gently before slicking his tongue along the seam of her mouth. She gasped at the sensation, the realization it brought, and Devon took full advantage, breaching her parted lips like he’d kissed her a thousand times before. No hesitation. No uncertainty. Nothing about his kiss was questioning or cautious, but it also wasn’t demanding or possessive.

Devon Peters kissed like he knew exactly how much he was fucking her life up, and made no apologies for it.

Which is why she pulled her mouth from his and ran as fast as her fucking legs could move.

12

Devon

HE WAS NOT expecting to see Janie’s car sitting outside his house when he got home. Not that he thought she’d go back on their deal. He just assumed she’d get the job done and get out of Dodge as fast as possible to avoid crossing his path since she’d spent the past week ducking under the counter at The Baking Rack every time he passed.

Taking her out riding had been a mistake. Almost as big of a mistake as kissing her.

But damned if he still wasn’t disappointed in the way she left.

He thought Janie was the kind of person who stayed in your face until shit was handled, not someone who ran the second things went sideways. It had been a big part of what drew him in.

So maybe it was better she ran, because he didn’t have time to be drawn anywhere but to his daughters.

Last Sunday had left him a little more prepared for what he was about to see as he opened the front door and made his way into the kitchen. Last time she was there, Janie had made a pretty big dent in the room, but today she'd taken no prisoners, and it was spotless.

The table they hadn't eaten on in months was completely cleared and scrubbed clean. The tile floor was gleaming and the grout was a color he hadn't seen in years. But not only did it look good, the place smelled good. Walking into a clean home hit different. It felt a little like someone pressed the reset button on his life.

He’d told Janie things went downhill after his wife died, but honestly it happened long before that. The two years Maggie was sick were hellish. Both because he had to watch her suffer, and because he was suffering himself. Struggling to come to terms with not just one, but two new realities, each bringing their own unique hell.

Going to the fridge, he pulled a bottle of beer from the newly organized shelves and headed toward the sound of laughing. Once again, Janie and his daughters were in the living room, but this time the furniture was where he'd left it. Instead of pushing it aside and practicing gymnastics indoors, Janie and Riley were situated on the couch with Olivia and Gwen on the floor in front of them.

"Now you fluff everything out." Janie worked on Gwen's hair, pulling at some sort of a multilayered ponytail spanning the back of her head. Riley watched closely, repeating the actions on Olivia's blonde hair.

"You guys know Janie's not here to be your personal hair instructor, right?"

Riley didn't look up from what she was doing, all her attention staying on the task in front of her. "She offered, so calm your tits."

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