by Tina Leonard
“What’s a wig?” little Michael asked, looking up from his coloring.
“It’s something men and women wear when they don’t have any hair,” Harper explained. “It’s hair you can buy in a store.”
“Why doesn’t Miss Judy just wear a hat?” he asked.
The adults at the table looked at each other. Michael went back to his coloring.
“Mayor Judy may have to, son,” Harper said, and Cameron drank some tea, thinking about hats and wigs and Judy’s big, broken heart.
“She doesn’t want Steel to see her,” Harper added softly.
“She’s going to have to eventually,” Cameron said. “I’m surprised he didn’t question her about this mole. I’d think he’d know if she had something that had popped up recently.” Saint ran an arm around her shoulders, kneading them briefly. It felt good, and she relaxed into the supportive massage. “Our big sheriff’ll go mad without Judy around for a couple of weeks. He already thinks she’s cooled on him.”
Cameron looked at Saint. “I think I’ll go talk to her.”
“I’ll go with you,” Harper said quickly.
They gathered their purses, only to realize that Ivy had walked into the Rolling Thunder Café and was headed right for their table.
“Here comes trouble,” Saint murmured under his breath as the entire restaurant turned to stare at the tall, striking woman catwalking to their table. Ivy’s two-toned hair was especially electric tonight, catching a gentle breeze as she walked. She wore a cream-colored chamois dress with fringe that swayed with her movements, and brown cowboy boots. There wasn’t a man in the place who probably hadn’t had a spike in blood pressure—or a woman who hadn’t moved a little closer to her significant other.
“Hello, Hell-keteers,” Ivy said, coming to a stop at their table.
Cameron thought Ivy had to be the most stunning, breathtakingly beautiful woman she’d ever seen. She wondered why she’d chosen the business she had, when clearly she had the brains and beauty to have done other things with her life. “Hi, Ivy. What brings you to our side of town?”
“My cousin.” Ivy smiled. “Judy has let me know that she’ll be gone for two weeks.”
Cameron was surprised, but she didn’t show it. “Why would she tell you?”
“We talk more than you think we do, since our business ventures have us locked together. It’s like being tied together for a three-legged race. Not always comfortable, and often awkward, but we make it work.”
Saint slipped Cameron’s hand into his big one, engulfing her fingers—just for a split second. Just long enough to center her, remind her not to be fooled by Ivy’s beautiful smile.
“So how can we help you, Ivy?” Saint asked.
“I’m taking Cameron up on her offer to train some of my girls. They’ve begged me until my ears are raw. Actually, it’s not even my girls who want the training. They have family members who could use the help.” She looked at Cameron. “Judy tells me she’s not planning to be here for the parade.”
She had their attention now, and there was nothing Ivy liked better than attention. “Why wouldn’t she have told us that?” Cameron asked.
“I think her plans are moving quickly. She’s packing her truck now and saying her goodbyes. You know, my cousin has never been away from that hunky sheriff of hers for two weeks.”
“It won’t do you any good, Ivy,” Cameron said quietly.
“Ah, well, you may be right,” Ivy said airily. “Anyway, with my cousin gone, I should step in as parade marshal. She says you’re going to Dallas or Houston to pick up some wigs for her? Big and blonde and very Judy to wear in the parade?”
Cameron hesitated. “Those are the plans,” she said carefully.
“Well, she won’t be needing them. And I won’t either. I’ll just have Buzz do a Broadway-type hairstyle for me. Very parade-worthy.”
“I find it hard to believe that Judy would want you representing Hell, Ivy,” Harper said.
Cameron agreed with this. The men seemed transfixed, unwilling to say much, and Cameron squeezed Saint’s hand a bit to snap him out of his hypnotic state.
“Sorry,” he said quickly. “You don’t have to take Judy’s place, Ivy. Cameron can be parade queen. That’s what we need, a queen.”
Cameron blinked, stunned. “Uh—”
“It’ll be good training for her, stepping into the mayor’s boots,” Saint continued. “Steel’s wanting her to go into law enforcement, so that we’ll have a female deputy, maybe a female sheriff one day.”
“Really?” Ivy said, her tone disapproving. “Men are better in that role.”
“Now, Ivy, don’t be a chauvinist. A woman like you, who built her own business, ought to applaud when a woman gets a chance to take over a traditional man’s role.”
Ivy’s gaze turned icy as she looked at Cameron. “Congratulations.”
Cameron shrugged. “I haven’t taken him up on his offer yet, but it’s a great idea.”
“You have a lot of confidence,” Ivy said, not sounding pleased.
“Yes, I do,” Cameron agreed. “Can you have your riders to the Outlaws Training Center by eleven Saturday?”
Ivy’s lips folded together for a moment. “I’ll relay the message.”
“And you’ll tell your gals to warm up their kissers,” Declan said cheerfully, who hadn’t said a word up to this point. Cameron and Harper looked at him with disgust.
“Oh, come on, it’s for charity,” Declan said as they rolled their eyes at him.
“That reminds me,” Ivy said casually. “I’m supposed to tell you that the Horsemen want in on this fund-raiser for Hell.”
“In what way?” Saint asked, no longer sounding like he was hypnotized by Ivy’s beauty.
“They’re also going to run a kissing booth, and they’d like to be part of the fund-raising competition between Judy’s team and my team.” Ivy smiled. “I told them that was very forward-thinking of them. I’ve never heard of men running a kissing booth, and I think it’s a novel idea. Don’t you?” She waved her fingers and swept away, leaving Cameron shaking her head.
“What was that all about?” Harper asked.
“A turf grab while Judy’s gone,” Cameron answered. “Only, somebody came out of his coma fast enough to throw her a curveball.” She smiled at Saint. “For a minute there I thought you were a goner, destined to be sucked into some other dimension controlled by Ivy.”
“Yeah, I went out for a moment, but I blame it on lack of sleep,” Saint said happily. “I had a gorgeous redhead and a sweet mutt robbing me of z’s last night.”
“What redhead would that be?” Cameron asked.
“The one in my dreams,” he said. “I hope you noticed I nominated you to be our big-ass parade queen.” He grinned at Cameron, and her heart did a giant flutter. “You’ll be perfect,” he told her, and her heart fluttered again.
Hattie served their food, with a smaller plate topped with spaghetti for Michael. “I hope you folks still have appetites.”
“We do,” Cameron said, looking at beautiful Hattie, and suddenly she had a brainstorm. “Hattie, I need a parade queen to put the positive, stunning face of Hell forward for all to see. What do you say to being Hell’s queen for a day?”
“That’s a great idea,” Saint said. “We’ll have Ms. Hell and Miss Hell. You can ride in together on a float. Or on horseback, whichever you think would be most crowd-pleasing.” He looked at Hattie. “Can you ride?”
“I sure can.”
“Judy can’t,” Declan said.
“Judy can,” Hattie said, “but she chooses not to. She’s afraid of horses.” She smiled down at Michael. “You finish all your food, sweet boy, and I’m going to ask your mother if you may have a special treat for dessert.”
“Yes, ma’am!” Michael looked delighted by the offer, and Hattie went off to serve another table.
“Your mind works so fast, Cameron,” Harper said. “Ivy’s not going to like being cast into the shado
ws on Hell’s big day.”
“It’s all right.” Cameron shrugged. “We all have our issues.”
For some reason, Saint and Declan thought that was funny. She looked at Saint, and he winked at her, and Cameron felt her heart slide just a little bit further into crush. Oh, heck, who am I kidding? I really like him.
How could you not like a man who thought you’d make a perfect parade queen? Most of her life she’d been seen as a tomboy. But the man sitting next to her, wolfing down his pot roast and laughing with Declan over the ass-whipping they were going to put on the Horsemen’s kissing booth, saw her as a beautiful, desirable woman.
And that was just so sexy Cameron didn’t think she’d be able to save her heart from falling all the way.
Chapter 9
Saint had dropped Lucky off at Dr. Jack’s place earlier, Jack telling him to leave him for the day so that he could look him over thoroughly. Saint drummed the steering wheel absently as he drove past the gated entrance to the clinic. The big, gentle vet had a spread just on the fringe of town, where his patients, both big and small, could come to be cared for. Dr. Jack made house calls, too, but his clinic here was a sort of heaven for animals. He kept cows, chickens, any dog or cat that strayed his way, and peacocks. The clinic was a long, squatty, gray building set away from Jack’s house, with lots of roomy pet runs outside.
Saint’s approach was heralded by three Border collies, one missing part of an ear, though it didn’t seem to bother her. The dogs barked happily, raising the alarm to Jack that he had a visitor.
Saint parked his truck, got out, and was engulfed in wagging tales and happy barks. Lucky gamboled after the bigger dogs, trying hard to keep up. “Don’t worry, little buddy,” Saint said, scooping Lucky up to eye level. “You’ll be big enough one day to keep up with the bigger kids.”
Jack laughed as he approached the truck. “Hello, Saint. Sorry about the welcome crew.”
Though Jack always apologized for the raucous greeting his animals extended, nothing ever changed, and no one who came out here expected it to. If you didn’t like the animal meet and greet, Jack would come to your house or ranch, but Saint had never heard anyone complain. In fact, it was nice to feel so welcomed. It was obvious that the animals were happy here, and loved Jack.
It hit him that Lucky would be happy here too. He certainly wasn’t giving him back to Eli. Frowning, he held Lucky a little closer to his chest, and Lucky adorned his face with excited licks. “So how’d this beast check out?” he asked gruffly, as he realized that he wasn’t about to give up his new puppy. He hadn’t planned on a dog, but he hadn’t planned on Cameron, either.
One he could keep. The other he couldn’t.
“Lucky’s fine.” Jack ran a fond hand over Lucky. “Pleasant little fellow. He’s got all his shots now, and been dewormed. Had a bath and his nails trimmed. He’s ready for a family.”
Saint cleared his throat. “I am his family.”
“Oh.” Jack smiled. “Good for you. I’m sure he’ll be a great benefit to your life.”
“I’ll bet.”
Jack laughed, knowing quite well that Saint hadn’t had any intention of adopting a pet. Saint pulled out his wallet to pay his bill, and Jack waved him off, grinning widely.
“I’ll bill you.”
“Let me just give you some cash while I’m here,” Saint said.
Jack looked at him for a long moment. “The bill was paid already.”
Saint raised a brow. “By whom?”
“Cameron Dix. She said she gave you the dog, so she wanted to cover the bill.”
No. She hadn’t given him the dog. What she gave him were sleepless nights and an erection that seemed to manifest itself whenever he saw her. “Thanks, Jack,” he said, getting into his truck.
“You know,” Jack said, watching Saint carefully put Lucky in the box in the seat next to him, “you could do worse.”
Saint looked at him. “Say your piece before it chokes you.”
Jack laughed. “Cameron is something special as far as Hell is concerned. And Lucky’s going to keep you very busy.” He waved and walked away before Saint could thaw the shock from his brain that the big vet was actually encouraging him to consider the notion of a woman and a dog in his life as something good. Saint drove away, glanced over at Lucky. The mutt seemed to have a permanent smile on his face, looking around at everything as they drove back down the lane to the main road.
“Okay, you probably are something a little special,” Saint told him, but Lucky ignored him in favor of watching the Border collies herd them off the property. Lucky let out a little bark of goodbye to his friends, and Saint jumped at hearing Lucky’s first bark.
He’d have to tell Cameron about it.
After he told her that she didn’t need to take care of his bills. Or his dog. Or him.
Oh, hell. Who was he kidding?
Dr. Jack was right.
Cameron was something special. And he was getting way too crazy about her.
But that wasn’t the problem. The problem was how much he liked being crazy about her.
—
When Saint was invited to a meeting that evening to help pull the kissing booth extravaganza together, he tried desperately to think of a way out of it. Spending less time around Cameron might give him a shot at saving his sanity.
But since the invitation instructed the four of them—he, Declan, Cameron, and Harper—to meet at his house, with a food item to share, Saint realized he was just going to have to learn to do a better job of insulating his heart without avoiding her, because she didn’t seem to see the necessity of avoiding him.
So he tidied up his house and went out and bought some water, a little beer and wine for the ladies, and some snack stuff. It was actually nice to clean the cobwebs out of his fridge and put the food in, almost like a normal person who had a life and everything. Saint stared at the fridge; it was suddenly bursting with food, when moments before it had been empty. He couldn’t remember ever seeing it look like this. He kept beer in there, and a jar of peanut butter in the pantry, and a can of instant coffee on the kitchen counter. “Which pretty much sums up the story of my existence since I returned from Afghanistan,” he told Lucky, who was peering into the fridge as he stood beside Saint. “It’s embarrassing that you had a bag of food in the house before I did.”
He had a housekeeper every two weeks who came in, fussed about the dust, and changed his sheets. Basically she kept the house from falling into a cobweb-and-dust nightmare.
But other than that, his house wasn’t really a home.
The first time it had felt something like a home was when Cameron had stayed the night.
He knew what a home felt like; his family home was just inside the county line, where his parents had raised five kids—all girls except for him—and where his mother still lived. As the middle child, he’d had sisters to guide him, push him, lightly bully him, and mold him into the man he’d become.
His father had died a couple years ago, but his mother had stayed strong, a true survivor. She would like Cameron, as would his sisters, he knew instinctively. They all had the same inner strength that made them resilient.
Damn it. His mother had made their family house a home, a place of contentment for his father and their children. Suddenly he realized that the piece in his life that had been missing was exactly that: a woman…a partner.
But he wouldn’t have recognized that if Cameron hadn’t burst into his life with her independence and take-charge attitude—and this furry beast. He glanced down at Lucky, who stood waiting to see what he was going to do next.
What he did was pick the dog up, bury his face into his neck, and wish he didn’t know now what he’d been missing in his life. Because he was pretty sure Cameron Dix wasn’t looking to be anyone’s partner for life.
—
Cameron looked at the board and lists she’d set up on Saint’s coffee table so the four of them could group around and figure out the best r
oute to beating the combination of the Horsemen and Ivy’s girls.
“I suggest we put our booth near the entrance to the parade start.” Cameron looked at her notes, then glanced up at Saint. “And maybe we decorate the heck out of it, maybe with a lip print design all over the front. Kisses everywhere. What do you all think about that?”
He scanned her mouth for a fraction of a second before he looked back at the map of the town she’d drawn. Cameron wasn’t even sure he realized he’d looked at her mouth, but she knew—and worse, she thought about his mouth all the time. Now that she knew he was a great kisser, she found herself thinking about kissing him way too often.
Like right now.
“I like it,” Harper said. Her friend looked especially beautiful today, Cameron thought, but it was obvious her mind was mostly on her little boy, who sat nearby on the floor letting Lucky tug on a dog toy she’d brought. Lucky was having a blast playing with Michael, and Michael giggled often, amused by Lucky’s attempts to get the tug toy away from him. “Maybe we should dress all in white, pink, or red skirts and tops,” Harper suggested.
“Sounds good to me.” Declan said, gazing at her, though she seemed unaware, all her attention on her son.
Cameron caught Saint studying her. He looked at the map again, shrugging.
“I think the whole idea’s dumb,” he suddenly said, and that got everybody’s attention.
“Why?” Cameron asked.
“Because it doesn’t solve anything,” Saint said. “They’ll find a way to cheat, or pull something, and we’ll be back to square one.”
“We aren’t trying to solve Hell’s internal dynamics,” Harper said. “We’re just trying to raise money for it.”
“Yeah, I know.” Saint got up, looked out a window, stared down at Lucky and Michael for a second. “I know kissing booths have been around for years, but I don’t see why Hell has to have them.”