Amanda smiled to herself as she carried the plates and cups to the sink. “Not now,” she assured him. “You head on into the living room. I’ll meet you on the couch.”
Jake cocked an eyebrow. “The couch?”
“That folk remedy,” she retorted. “Remember?”
His nod was slow. “Oh, yeah. Hope it’s as good as codeine.”
“Nothing’s as good as codeine,” she assured him. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.”
Jake heaved himself to his feet and headed into the living room. “I’m stubborn,” he said as he went. “At least, that’s what Betty says.”
“Betty’s right,” Amanda assured him.
By the time Amanda made it into the living room, Jake was stretched out on the couch, his boots up on the arm, his hands across his stomach. The firelight warmed him, and the shadows protected him. His face was relaxed now, his eyes shut. It made such a difference. Suddenly he wasn’t the hard man who had sought so hard to intimidate her. He was the gentleman who had offered his horse, the big brother who had fought so hard to see that his brother and sisters had a better life. He was the neighbor who could be depended on and trusted.
Amanda was tempted to let him be. But she knew just where that would get them both. Leaning way over the back of the couch, she ran a hand along his cheek.
“Hey, big boy,” she greeted him in a sultry voice, “I want your shirt off.”
