Tempted by a Texan Read online

  The threadbare chenille robe draped over her shoulders wasn’t needed for warmth, and it hadn’t done much good for modesty, either. Thank heaven her pajamas were decent.

  “I still can’t believe someone broke in to my shop.”

  “You’ve got merchandise that’s easy to turn. I’m surprised you haven’t been hit before.”

  “Well, Donetta popped me in the stomach once, but it was an accident. She’d been aiming at a basketball hoop and I got in the way.”

  His eyebrows slammed together and his jaw tightened. “I didn’t mean ‘hit’ in that context, and you know it.”

  Becca rolled her eyes. Clearly he couldn’t take a joke. “You don’t need to snap.”

  He took a deep, audible breath and let it out. “What is it with you and me?”

  “Oil and water?” she asked, knowing right away that he was talking about their past and their inability to get through more than a day peacefully.

  He parked in the alleyway behind her store and shut off the engine. In the moment of quiet, where the only sound was the ticking noise of the hot engine cooling down, he said softly. “We mix better than oil and water, sugar pie.”

  “Then why are we apart?” The words were out before she could call them back. A warm flush of embarrassment washed over her and she wanted to slide right off the seat. But to take back the words would only call more attention to them, lend them more strength. Still... “Never mind. That was a dumb thing to say.”

  “We’re not really apart,” he said. “Friendship should count for something.”

  “It does.” Thank goodness he didn't take a trip down the ex-lovers’ path. “And I appreciate your being here for me tonight. I know I’m grouchy, but I’m not ungrateful.”

  He reached over and stroked a finger down her cheek. “I remember that about you, sugar. You have one of the sweetest hearts of anyone I’ve ever met ”

  Oh, when he said things like that, touched her like that... Becca Sue. Get a grip. He’s only being nice.

  “Um...thank you. I suppose I should go in and check things out.”

  “Stay put.” He got out of the truck and came around to her side, opening the door and helping her alight. “We don’t need to check anything out tonight. The morning’s soon enough.”

  “Colby, there’s no way I can sleep knowing someone’s been pawing through my shop.” The alleyway behind her store was pitch-black. Obviously, whoever had broken in had disabled the motion detector light over the back door. She had installed the light for convenience purposes, mainly so she could see to get her key in the lock. Until tonight, she’d never considered security measures a necessity. Not in a town like Hope Valley, the place she’d lived all her life.

  Becca stood on tiptoe, trying to reach the bulb, hoping it was only unscrewed.

  “Damn it, Becca Sue.” Colby gently lowered her arm and took care of it himself. The light blinked on, flooding them in a pool of white. “You make it difficult for a man to show his chivalry.”

  She nearly snorted. “Guess I’m just set in my single, independent ways. No big strong man to open my pickle jars, troubleshoot my circuit breakers or screw in my lightbulbs.”

  “Then I imagine we’re going to butt heads for the next little while. Did you bring the keys to your front door? Looks like Skeeter boarded up this one after he left.”

  She started to ask about his butting-heads comment, but got sidetracked by the wood nailed across her shop’s back door. She frowned. “A lot of good it does with the boards on the outside. Anyone could just pry them off.”

  “Which is what Skeeter was probably thinking when he put them here rather than on the inside. They’ll slow down an intruder, but if you’d forgotten your front door keys in all the excitement, you wouldn’t be locked out.”

  “Oh. Good thinking.”

  “Do you have your keys?”

  “Yes.” She nodded to the satchel-like purse he had stuffed under his arm, the handles riding his shoulder. “They’re in there.”

  He unzipped the leather and she reached in with her good hand, digging around the bottom until she felt metal. She pulled out an antique broach attached to a huge safety pin with keys dangling from it, then dropped them back in the purse and continued to feel around.

  “Those weren’t them?” Colby asked.

  “No. Just spares I keep for Donetta and Tracy Lynn and Sunny. We all have keys to each other’s places.” She felt metal and grasped it. Same set of keys. Before she could let go, Colby snatched them from her.

  “I’ll just hold these, why don’t I? The sun’ll be up soon and folks might talk if we’re caught standing outside with you in your pajamas, cute as they may be.”

  She gave him a dirty look. “If I could hold the purse myself, I could put my hand right on the keys. At this awkward angle, I can’t tell what I’m doing.”

  “Maybe you should think about cleaning out your purse or getting a smaller one. This thing’s so heavy, it’s a wonder you can carry it without walking crooked.”

  She found the keys and held them up as if they were a prize. “If it’s too heavy for you, I’ll be happy to take it,” she said sweetly.

  “Smart aleck. I think I can manage.” He slid the bag back onto his shoulder, put his arm around her and steered her around the corner toward the front sidewalk. “You’d be doing yourself a favor, though, by getting something that’s only half the size of a suitcase.”

  “Actually, I’ve tried a bunch of times to downsize. Made me feel naked and vulnerable. I end up cramming everything into the little purse until it’s bulging and won’t close, then the big one sits there taunting me, still half-full with stuff that I’m afraid I might need once I leave the house.”

  Colby stared down at her as if he couldn’t decide whether to laugh or beat his head against a wall. “Looked to me like there’s a whole lot of junk in there—in quantity. Where are you going to go that you’ll use seven pens?”

  “Sunny’s baby shower,” she retorted without a blink. They rounded the corner to the front sidewalk. “We ran short of pencils for the baby-name game and I happened to be prepared with enough extra to go around.”

  Becca saw him open his mouth to comment, but just then Skeeter cruised by in the sheriff’s sedan and rolled to a stop, leaning over to speak through the open window.

  “How’d it go at the clinic, Becca Sue?”

  She flapped her sling, wincing a bit when pain shot up her arm. “A hairline fracture in my hand. Nothing to worry about.”

  “How about your head?” Skeeter asked. “Looked to me like the bastard clocked you a good one.”

  “I’m pretty sure I did that myself when I fell.”

  “With a little help,” Colby and Skeeter said at the same time.

  Becca sighed, glancing at the tight-lipped expressions on both men’s faces. Under different circumstances, she might enjoy two guys fussing over her.

  The news had spread like wildfire among her best friends, and her cell phone had rung nonstop on the way to the clinic—and even inside the clinic, much to the night nurse’s annoyance. Even though Donetta had been at the shop and they’d talked face-to-face, she’d phoned for an update before Becca had even seen the doctor. Tracy Lynn had called twice and so had Sunny. It had been all Becca could do to assure her friends that she was fine and that they should not drag their babies and families and pregnant selves out in the middle of the night to hold her hand.

  Funny how their objections had lessened considerably when she’d told them Colby was with her.

  “I’ll let you two get inside to rest,” Skeeter said. “Storm’ll be by tomorrow to do an official report on anything that’s missing. Expect a call from Beth, too,” he added, his gaze on Becca. “I’ll let her know you’re fine, but you know how she is. Frets over everyone.”

  “Thanks, Skeeter. You tell Beth not to worry about me. She’s got enough on her hands with Landon’s summer cold.” Skeeter and his wife had a ten-month-old little boy with big
blue eyes and curly brown hair—the spitting image of his daddy. Becca had seen them in the pharmacy just yesterday and she hadn’t been able to resist cupping his flushed cheeks....

  She sighed, wishing she had a slice of the family pie so many of her friends were enjoying. They had husbands who came home to them at the end of the day, children to nurture and hold close, help changing lightbulbs and unstopping toilets and picking up the slack when life suddenly became overwhelming.

  “You okay, sugar pie?”

  Becca shook herself out of her musings, and realized that Skeeter was driving away. “Just peachy.”

  “Sounds like someone could use some pain meds,” Colby said.

  “Someone? Well, you go on ahead. I think I’ll just tough it out.”

  “I’m not the enemy here, sugar.”

  “Darn it all, Colby, I know that. And I’m sorry.” And doggone it, if she didn’t watch herself, she was going to start bawling like a baby. Her hand and her head were hurting.

  And her heart was feeling a few twinges, too. Compliments of the way-too-sexy Southern gentleman at her side who looked as though he was fixing to sweep her up and carry her, lest she fall out in a faint or something.

  Bickering and holding Colby at arm’s length was one thing. Allowing him close when he had that gentle, I’m-your-man look in his eyes was quite another.

  He made her yearn for what she didn’t have. Couldn’t have...with him.

  “Let me have your keys, sugar pie, and we’ll get you inside.”

  She didn’t have the energy to argue, so she passed him the keys and went through the door when he swung it open, using her good hand to flip on the light switch. She noticed that Skeeter had lowered the shades over the front windows.

  “Oh, my gosh. Look at all this black dust. It’ll take me forever to get it off everything!”

  “Yeah, fingerprinting dust is messy.”

  “You’d think Skeeter would’ve at least cleaned up behind himself.”

  “Not his job, sugar pie.”

  “Oh, just hush up. You’ve always got to be so darned reasonable.” She marched to the coffee counter, grabbed the end of the paper towel roll and gave it a jerk, not wholly sure why she was so snippy with him.

  Colby easily took the towel away from her. “We’re not going to start on this tonight. You need to elevate your arm and get some rest.”

  “1 can’t rest knowing this mess is down here.”

  “It’s not going anywhere.”

  “Exactly. And I open at nine in the morning.”

  “I think the town would understand if you closed up shop for a couple of days.”

  “The town might, but my bank account certainly wouldn’t.”

  “Don’t you have a cushion for emergencies?”

  She looked away. “I’ve got some savings, but I don’t consider this enough of an emergency to dip into it. Besides, I need to see if anything’s missing.”

  “We’ll deal with it tomorrow.” He steered her toward the interior stairs that led to her upstairs apartment.

  “What do you mean, we?” She glanced back, her gaze touching on a Chippendale tall case clock in the corner, a display of Victorian glassware along the wall, a pair of French nineteenth-century Napoleon III gilt and bronze torches, old wooden shelves and round racks stuffed with books. Skeeter had at least picked up the display rack that had fallen, but there was no telling what order the books were in.

  “Judging by all the things you’ve been whining about in the past few hours, you’re going to need some help.”

  Her attention snapped back to Colby. “I haven’t been whining. I’ve been bitching. There’s a difference.”

  “Mmm. That’s what I meant, but I was trying to be polite in light of your infirmary.”

  “Oh, stop with the infirmary and invalid stuff. And why you?”

  “Why me, what?”

  “Why would you help me?”

  “Why not?”

  “I can see we’re getting really far with this conversation,” she drawled in exasperation. Taking one last glance around the shop, she stopped and whirled, gasping when her arm connected with Colby’s chest.

  “Trouble! Oh, baby cakes. Come down to Mom.” Despite the jolt of pure pain that shot up her arm, she pushed past Colby and headed to the front counter. Her cat was perched atop the Victorian cabbage-rose valance that spanned the length of the front windows. Trouble, a small, sleek black cat, was so named because his curiosity more often than not got him in trouble.

  After a few swishes of his tail, he finally leaped atop a bookshelf, navigated an antique hall tree, then dropped to the countertop and sashayed over to her, picking his way through the costume jewelry that had been retrieved from the floor and piled on the counter.

  “Have you been in here all along?” she crooned, scooping the cat up with her good arm. “Poor baby. You were probably scared half to pieces. Too bad you can’t tell Mom who was in our shop.” She plunked a kiss on his ebony head. “And I apologize for accusing you falsely.”

  Colby stood by the stairwell door, his arms crossed over his chest. Watching her.

  “What? You don’t talk to your animals?” she asked and made her way back to him.

  “Don’t have any.”

  She frowned. “What about Bosco?” The boxer/Lab mix was practically a fixture at his side most days.

  “Bosco died last week.”

  “No!” Her steps faltered. “Sunny would have told me.”

  “I haven’t said anything to her. 1 took him with me to Houston last week and snuck him into the motel room. Bosco went to sleep and didn’t wake up the next morning.”

  “Oh, Colby, I’m so sorry.”

  “Yeah. Me, too. It was his time, though. He was half-blind and suffering some from arthritis. When it’s my time, I’d just as soon go like Bosco—peacefully in my sleep. Here, let me have this little menace.” He reached out and took Trouble from her, then guided her up the stairs—successfully this time.

  As they entered the apartment, the scent of the cinnamon buns she’d prepared earlier that evening lingered in the air, making the small space feel homey and welcoming.

  Thank goodness she’d baked an extra batch to put in the freezer and had another batch ready to pop in the oven first thing in the morning. But what would she do after that? It took two good hands to knead bread dough.

  Normally she could count on her girlfriends to help out, but Sunny was fixing to have a baby any day now, and Tracy Lynn and Donetta had infants to care for.

  Things had changed so much in the past year or so. Sunny Carmichael had come back home and married her high school sweetheart, Jack Slade, and had legally adopted his seven-year-old daughter, Tori. Now they were about to have a baby together. Becca was on pins and needles waiting for the call since Sunny was actually past her due date, and Jack was like a nervous lion hovering over its cub because Sunny, as the town’s only veterinarian, still insisted on working.

  Then Donetta had fallen in love with Sunny’s brother, Storm Carmichael, and they’d had a baby girl four months ago. Donetta’s beauty salon had now, more than ever, become the hangout for all and sundry who had a soft spot for babies. Donetta had turned the back room into a makeshift nursery, complete with bassinets, a changing table and a couple of rocking chairs. There was never a shortage of willing babysitters.

  Tracy Lynn had ended up marrying Jack Slade’s brother, Linc. Now there was a union that hadn’t seemed likely. The socialite and the bad-boy horse breeder. They were the perfect fit for each other, though, and now they were the proud parents of a two-month-old baby girl.

  Their lives had definitely taken drastic—yet wonderful—turns. Once again, Becca felt that small pinch of envy as she thought about her three friends experiencing pregnancy together. And she could only watch, listen and yearn....

  And find herself stuck with Colby Flynn in the close confines of her apartment—without the buffer of her girlfriends.

  “Ready for b
ed?” Colby asked.

  Becca whipped around and nearly lost her balance. “Are you doing that deliberately?”

  “What?”

  “Making sexual innuendos.”

  “Darlin’, I don’t know where your mind is, but I was merely attempting to follow the doc’s orders. He said for the next twenty-four to seventy-two hours, rest and elevation are what’ll speed the healing process for this hand.”

  “Seventy-two hours! He did not say that.”

  “’Fraid so. Those were his exact words to me while the nurse was helping you in the bathroom. Seeing as it’s two-thirty in the morning, I’m thinking your bed is the best place to obey the doctor’s orders.” He tipped her chin up with a single finger, then lowered his voice. “And darlin’? When I make a sexual remark you’ll know it. And it won’t be couched in innuendo.”

  His lips brushed against hers, so softly, so quickly, that it left her stunned. She looked into his eyes. Yes, there was a spark of devilry there. But there was also something deeper. Something she couldn’t quite define—and wasn’t sure she even wanted to try.

  What was he up to?

  Colby Flynn had broken her heart once already. And once in a lifetime was enough.

  She stepped back and cleared her throat. “Um, thanks for bringing me home. I can handle things from here.”

  “Did I not make myself clear? As soon as I get you settled, I intend to camp out on your couch.”

  “That’s not—”

  “Becca Sue, the lock on the back door to your shop is busted and the inside door leading up to this apartment is so flimsy a kid could kick it open. Damn it, seeing you bleeding on the floor took ten years off my life, so why don’t you save your arguments, and your breath, and let me do my Southern gentleman thing and hang around to make sure you’re protected from any more bumps in the night.”

  His voice had risen, but she decided not to point that out. Besides, she’d forgotten about the flimsily boarded-up back door. Normally, she wouldn’t care one way or the other if her doors were locked—Hope Valley simply didn’t have a lot of crime.

  But there had been a crime committed this evening—if not a robbery, at least an assault. And truth be told, she was shaken.