Page 6 of Saving Jared

He’d never truly know since Darin had chosen that moment to step between them. Her brother hadn’t said anything—not then and not since. But the narrow-eyed, questioning glare he’d thrown Jared’s way before he too had looked heavenward with the next booming explosion had said enough.

Jared wasn’t to look at his little sister.

He’d tried his best not to since. It wasn’t like anything could come from his attraction. Because first of all, it made no damned sense. In all the years of knowing her and watching her grow up, Jared had never thought of her as anything more than little Willa Taggert—baby sister to his best friend and Kinsley’s partner in crime.

And there was the crux of his problem.

While she might be one sexy as hell, grown woman, she was also one who was firmly off limits. For obvious reasons. It was why he’d made the firm decision to ignore his attraction. It would pass. Eventually. But that was before Kinsley had excitedly waved the calendar page featuring Willa under his nose.

“Ha!” Kinsley had said on a slight laugh as she’d taken the glossy calendar from his nerveless fingers and admired the image. “I bet they get more sales this year from men than they do women.” Then she’d flipped it around to face him. “I mean, just look at how hot she is.”

He’d silently agreed she was most definitely hot, while her sultry, unusual, honey-brown gaze with flecks of green had seemed to stare out at him.

The photographer had set Willa against a backdrop of flames, with her dark halo of curls blowing around her soot-smeared face. Like many of the men in the calendar, he’d posed Willa with all her gear on while she held her coat wide open.

Unlikethe men featured in the calendar, she hadn’t been completely bare underneath. No, she’d been covered—basically. But only with a pair of red suspender straps strategically placed over a pair of perfect breasts. He curled his fingers into his palm. They’d be just enough for a good handful. And while the suspenders concealed the color and size of her nipples, they hadn’t hidden the unexpected line of purple flowers tattooed along the outer swell of her right breast.

At the time, he’d quickly swallowed and stared down his nose at Kinsley with as stern an expression as he could muster. Then he’d cleared his throat before saying, “Do her brothers know about this?”

Kinsley had snorted and shaken her head. “Not yet. It’s a surprise.” Then he’d uncomfortably stared at the top of her head as she’d gone through the other pages of the calendar. She’d glanced up at him and grinned. “They’re going to blow their collective gaskets.”

That had been three days ago. And, yes, he’d bought a copy of the calendar. And if anybody asked, it was for charity. But if pinned down, he’d have to confess February was now his favorite month.

He pressed his forehead against Chaz’s saddle, nearly knocking off his dark brown Stetson.

I’m going to hell.

If Darin, Ben, or Eric had in any idea of the kinds of thoughts he’d had over their baby sister—

“Anyhow, she already has vacation days planned starting once she gets off shift Thursday. So, she needs a place to stay until they come to their senses.”

He had to pull himself together. And fast.

“I can imagine them coming to their senses could take a while,” he said, keeping his back to his sister and needlessly rechecking over Chaz’s tack. Then he hauled himself up onto the Morgan’s back and held in a wince. The ungiving leather saddle pressed uncomfortably against his semi-hard cock—something else his little sister didn’t need to notice.

“But now’s not a good time for me to think about getting in the middle of things with the Taggerts.” He glanced over to several sets of guests entering the grand dining hall for the welcome lunch buffet. “I’ve got work to do.”

He stared down into Kinsley’s narrowed gray eyes tinged with silver and ignored the scowl marring her lightly freckled face. “And don’t you have the Fremonts coming Saturday to finish preparing for?”

Kinsley roughly shoved her hands in her jeans pockets. “Mending Morgans-Mending Lives is ready for Laurel and Hartman, the asshat, Fremont’s visit.”

“Asshat?” Jared chuckled, glad for a change of subject. “I hope you haven’t called him that to his face.”

“I’ve refrained. Besides, I’ve only spoken to him by phone. But the man is rude, bossy, a know-it-all, and an all-around insufferable human being. Do you know he had the nerve to try and tell me—me—the best way to work with horses?” She grimaced. “I wish it was just his sister coming.”

“It’ll just be the one visit. So, play nice.” Kinsley definitely didn’t need anyone’s advice when it came to working with horses. She’d had an affinity with them since the time she was old enough to walk. But Kinsley couldn’t afford to piss off one of the siblings making funding decisions for Senator James "King" Fremont’s foundation. If she did, her dream of taking Mending Morgans to the next level would fall flat.

Mending Morgans was already known as the premier training facility for equine assisted therapy horses. But with extra funding, Kinsley would not only breed, raise, and train the horses, but establish a facility at Big M to work with physically and emotionally wounded veterans at no cost to them. Mending Morgans-Mending Lives would be the perfect marriage of her master’s in psychology and what could only be described as her horse whisperer abilities.

Jared had told her repeatedly the family was behind her using ranch funds. But being a McComb—in other words, stubborn—she was determined to do it all on her own.

He and the rest of their family couldn’t be prouder of her.

Kinsley grimaced. “I know. I know. I’ll just have grin and bear it. Now, tell me, how do you think Willa might interfere with any of that?” She crossed her arms as her face broke out in another one of her smiles. “Anyhow, Mom told me to tell you, and I quote, ‘If Jared says it’s a bad time, tell him I said it’s never a bad time to help out a friend.’”

She’d gone over his head? Sneaky. And only something she did when she knew good and damned well he wouldn’t want to cooperate.

“Why did you have to bother Mom with this? She and Dad retired to Tampa for a reason—to not have to deal with ranch business.”

“But it is still technically their ranch.” She shrugged. “Besides, this isn’t ranch business. Plus, you can’t pass off any of your excuses with her.”

“Look,” he said, his saddle creaking as he leaned toward his obstinate sister. “It’s not an excuse. Wilhelmina Taggert should have known her brothers would get bent out of shape over this and she’d have to face them over it. Honestly, I can’t even fathom why she did it.”

“Because I was tired of the three of them—and other people I won’t mention by name—treating me like I was still twelve years old.”

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