Page 40 of The Promise of Jenny Jones
“¿Que esta?”The man behind the bar stared at Jenny’s bloody arm. He feigned surprise, as if he hadn’t heard the shots in the street, hadn’t watched the cousins jump on their horses right in front of the open-faced cantina.
“Your pals shot a woman. I’m going to clean her wound,” Ty snarled. “You got a problem with that?” The man lifted both hands and moved backward a step. “How about you?” he asked Jenny.
She shrugged. “Has to be done.”
Pushing back the edges of her poncho, he pulled open the halves of her bloody sleeve and inspected the wound at close quarters. A quarter of an inch to the left, and the bullet would have shattered bone, leaving her with a useless arm. A couple of inches to the right, and he’d be burying her right now. He poured tequila into a shot glass and shoved it toward her.
“Drink up. This is going to hurt like hell.”
She tossed back the tequila without a gasp, suggesting she’d tipped a few in her time. “Been shot before. Outside El Paso.” She wiped her good hand across her lips. “Some bastard tried to steal my rig and freight. He didn’t get it. But he shot me just below the ribs.” She looked up at him. “You ever been bored?”
“About five years ago. One of old man Barrancas’s men winged me when I rode onto Barrancas land looking for the cattle they stole.” He poured her another shot of tequila, watched her throw it back.
There wasn’t a woman he knew or had ever known who would have sat there like Jenny Jones, bleeding on the bar and tossing back shots of tequila without a hitch in her husky voice, without a word of self-pity or complaint. Sitting there wounded, swapping tales about getting shot.
Shaking his head, he splashed more tequila into his glass and touched the rim to hers. “You know,” he said, gazing at her cropped coppery hair before he let his glance slide to the clean angle of her jaw, “I can’t explain this, but I have a powerful hankering for you. I beg pardon if that observation is out of line, but you strike me as a woman who’s not averse to straight talk.”
Her eyebrows shot toward her hairline, and her mouth fell open. “You got a hankering? For me? Why?” Disgust pinched her mouth, and for a bad moment he thought the disgust was directed at him, but then she apologized. “It’s the kid. I’m so sick of hearing the word why, I swore I’d never use it myself.”
He swallowed his tequila, watching her over the edge of the glass. “I can’t answer that. I don’t know why.”
She wasn’t remotely similar to the women he’d lusted after in the past. There was nothing dainty or even particularly feminine about her. But he never thought of Jenny Jones without thinking what a hell of a woman she was. If he didn’t dwell on her peculiar hairdo and un-fashionably tanned skin, she was even good-looking. When he recalled her breasts and small waist, sweat appeared on his brow.
She gave him a level look, turning the tequila glass between her fingers. “Graciela said you hated me for killing her mother.”
“That’s not true.” He thought a minute. He didn’t want to call his niece a liar, but she’d stretched the truth on this one. “Graciela must have misunderstood,” he said carefully.
“That’s good since it appears we need to work together to get her back.” Eyes narrowed, she considered him with a thoughtful expression. “I was pretty damned pissed when I thought you hated me.”
That was an encouraging sign, he decided, pouring her another tequila. “I was pretty damned pissed myself when you hog-tied me and left me in the dirt. I plan to even the score on that one.” He shrugged. She was no tender greenhorn. She would understand the incident demanded a payback. “The thing is, I like your looks even with your hair whacked-up like that. It’s a nice color. Better without the black.”
She tugged on a short strand near her ear and frowned. “Lice.”
“I figured something like that.” A tall, strong-boned woman wasn’t to every man’s taste, but he responded powerfully to the challenge she presented. “And I admire your style. Hell, who can explain a hankering. You aren’t like any woman I ever met.”
“That’s for damned sure,” she said with a laugh. For a moment he thought she might be blushing, but he decided her cheeks were more likely flushed with sun and pain.
Still, it impressed the hell out of him that she could sit there with a shot-up arm and laugh, paying no mind at all to the people gathered outside the cantina, staring in. She was an astonishing woman. And it hadn’t escaped his notice that her arm was milky white down to her cuff line. He reckoned the rest of her body was white, too, except for the part brushed with flame. The part separating legs long enough to wrap around a man and guide him where he wanted to go. Imagination paralyzed him.
After a minute he swallowed and wiped a hand across his forehead. “It’s time. Hold your arm steady.” Shifting so she sat sideways to the plank bar, she extended her arm, made a fist and lowered her head. When he poured the tequila into her wound, she sucked in a sharp hissing breath and blinked rapidly. Her eyes swam, but no tears spilled over.
“It’s all right to cry.”
“No, it isn’t,” she muttered between her teeth.
After he’d washed the wound thoroughly and cleaned the blood off her arm, he poured the last of the tequila into their glasses and waited until she’d tossed hers back.
“Well?”
“Well, what?” Her voice was husky, and her eyes glistened with a damp shine, but Gawd a’mighty, she’d taken the pain like a man.
Ty decided he’d never wanted to bed a woman as badly as he wanted to bed this one. Since most women were docile creatures, he seldom thought in terms of taming a woman. But Jenny Jones was for damned sure not docile. She was prickly, stubborn, and exciting in a way he hadn’t experienced before.
“Do you have a hankering for me, too?” He snapped the question, irritated that he had to humble himself by asking. He’d made a declaration here, and she owed him better than to leave him dangling and wondering. He’d revealed himself, and he deserved a revelation in return.
“I guess I do,” she admitted after a lengthy hesitation, scowling up at him. “I don’t fricking like it much, but now that you mention it, yeah, I guess I got a hankering for you, too.” She glanced at the man behind the bar. “I need two thin slices of pork rind,por favor.”
“And some bandage strips,” Ty added.
