For one thing, Joe had never known Wes to sub out to anyone but the best. In fact, his reputation for quality was one of the things that had made him so successful, first in construction and then, over the past several years as a developer. People could trust him to get the job done, on time, at a fair price, and know they weren't going to have to come back in a year or two and fix things. But there were some weird things going in with this Tulsa project. For instance, this framer Wes had hired was for the birds. Half his crew looked like they weren't sure which end of the hammer they were supposed to be using, and the foreman couldn't read plans worth spit. Fortunately, Joe had caught a couple of problems before they happened, but this morning he'd discovered one whole wall had been set a foot off, which of course had to be completely redone. When he'd called Wes and told him they needed to find another sub, his boss had gotten real quiet, then mumbled something about the bid being so good.
"A low bid is worthless if the work is, too," Joe had said. "We gotta can this guy, Wes, before he screws up any more than he already has."
Wes had finally, if reluctantly, agreed, which only solved half the problem. The other half—finding a reputable framer who wasn't booked clear to Christmas—was a headache Joe didn't need on a project with an already tight schedule. It was so unlike Wes, though, going on the cheap like that. What was the man thinking—
"Where are we?" a sleepy voice said beside him, followed by a huge yawn.
"About halfway between Claremore and Haven," Joe said, taking in the wrinkled face, the blinking eyes, and he realized—with a mixture of mild panic and profound relief—that, even though they still hadn't gotten down and dirty about the heavy stuff, somewhere along the way he'd grown pretty damn crazy about his little brother. Guess cluelessness didn't preclude love. Smiling slightly, he looked back out the windshield. "Have a good nap?"
"Yeah…" Another yawn. "I guess. I can't wait to get to Dawn's. I'm starving."
Joe chuckled as another trickle of relief shimmied through him, somewhat dissipating his bad mood. If all it took to jolt Seth out of his shell was the promise of a grilled burger and a horseback ride, he supposed they weren't doing too badly. As if he'd read Joe's mind, the boy strained against the seat belt to fish the plastic shopping bag out from behind Joe's seat and from that came a pair of the cheapest kid-sized cowboy boots Joe could find in the western clothing store. Dawn hadn't exactly told Joe the boy needed boots to ride; she'd just pointed out his feet might slip out of the stirrups if he wore athletic shoes. Seth, apparently, was entranced.
"These are so cool," he said for at least the tenth time, carefully inspecting one tan leather boot. "I'm gonna be tall as you in 'em!"
"Those heels aren't but an inch high, bud. The view won't be a whole lot different."
There was also a new pair of jeans, which the kid already had on. Joe had drawn the line at the cowboy hat, though, pointing out that he was only going for a ride, not doing the rodeo circuit.
"I can't wait to show Taylor," Seth now said, and more hornets took off in Joe's stomach. He wasn't so out of the loop that he couldn't tell when some serious matchmaking was going on. Or that three very happily married ladies were bad news for anyone who wasn't. So it was a good thing, he told himself, that Taylor had looked every bit as disgusted about her friends' meddling as he felt.
A damn good thing.
A few minutes later, they cut off the highway onto a shady road that, in turn, led to a dirt road flanked by two pastures. Seconds later, Cal's horse farm came into view.
"S' that it?" his brother said, wriggling in his seat to get a better look.
"That's Taylor's truck out front, so yeah, I guess so."
"Where are the horses?"
Joe chuckled, pulling the Blazer up behind Taylor's truck. "I don't imagine they let them roam the place, like chickens."
There were, however, dogs. At least three or four—it was hard to tell from the quivering mass of lolling tongues and wagging tails accosting them the minute Joe and Seth got out of the car. For a second, Seth plastered himself against Joe's legs, only to let out a giggle of delight as he tried to pet them all at once. The muscles at the base of Joe's neck eased somewhat as he sucked in a lungful of air laced with the earthy-sweet scents of animal and flowers and dirt…and the Pavlovian-response-inducing aroma of seared meat.
"There you are!" he heard from the porch of the unpretentious brown-and-white single-story house. He looked up to see a grinning Dawn striding toward them in sandals and a straight, slippery looking dress that skimmed her body almost to her ankles, its colors rivaling those of the dozens of rose bushes in heavy bloom edging one side of the lawn. "Cal's already got the first round of burgers on the grill, so come on around to the back. Mooner, for heaven's sake…" On a laugh, she grabbed the collar of a mutt of indiscriminate parentage who'd appointed himself Seth's best friend. "Give the kid some breathing room."
The moan of a screen door brought Joe's head around, and suddenly Seth wasn't the only one needing breathing room.
Her arms full of Dawn's baby, Taylor came to the edge of the porch, where the late day sun scythed through a nearby cottonwood, dusting them with quivering drops of gold. As usual, she was in a what-you-see-is-what-you-get getup—baggy shorts, a plain white tailored blouse, her hair caught in a couple of clips like she couldn't be bothered—but then, it wasn't the magic of the picture that sent longing arcing through him, it was the genuineness of it.
The baby was asleep, slumped heavily against her chest, but she clearly was in no hurry to put him down. She smiled when Seth noticed her, then put a finger to her lips as he took off for the porch to give her a hug. Another spurt of yearning sang through Joe's bloodstream—not only for her, but for things that seemed to get further out of his reach every day.
And if her smile said "That's close enough" when he approached the steps, he should be grateful, right? Except her eyes told a completely different, eyes chock-full of promises he wondered if she even knew she was making. Full of promises he had no right to expect her to make in the first place, let alone keep.
"Where's the horses?" Seth asked Dawn as she carefully peeled her son from Taylor's arms.
"Most of 'em are out in the back pastures this time of year," she said, "but there's a couple in one of the paddocks close by the barn. You wanna see?"
Seth nodded and showed off his boots, which both ladies enthusiastically made over before Dawn herded the boy and a dog or two into the house, leaving Joe and Taylor by themselves.
Of course, he could have followed Dawn and his brother.
But then, Taylor could have, too.
Then a smile flickered across her mouth as a scrap of hair teased her long, pale neck. "I know where they keep the beer," she said, and he said, "Those are the sweetest words I've heard all day." She laughed and led him into the kitchen, where an older woman with Shake 'n Bake colored hair wearing a T-shirt that said These Aren't Hot Flashes, They're Power Surges came at him like a heat-seeking missile.
"I'm Ethel," she said, holding out a spotted hand with a surprisingly firm grip. "I come with the place. You must be that Joe Salazar everybody's talking about."
Joe shot a glance in Taylor's direction, but he got the distinct feeling she was enjoying this far too much to interfere.
"And why is 'everybody' talking about me?"
"'Cause we're sick to death of talking about ourselves, for one thing," the old woman said. "And because now that the Logan boys're all married, us oldsters are sorely in the market for somebody new to drool over. And looks to me like you fit that bill real nice." Sharp brown eyes took their sweet time raking him from head to toe and back up again. "Oh, yeah…real nice." A thousand wrinkles scampered out of the way as she grinned. "You want a beer?"
Finally. "Please."
Seconds later, an ice-cold Coors landed in his palm and Ethel bustled outside with a bowl of something. And Joe's gaze stumbled into Taylor's and he saw her breath catch and a flush bloom in her cheek
s. Then she whirled around, heading for the patio door as well. He should have let her go, if he'd had any sense he would have let her go, but a man's control can only be stretched so far before it snaps. And Joe's snapped so hard he could feel it writhing around inside him like a downed, and very much live, electrical wire, driving him to grab her hand and yank her back around. The startled look on her face only lasted for a second before she burst out laughing.
The unexpected sound was like throwing water on that still-flailing wire, and the sizzling and popping and blinding showers of sparks jolted him awake, jolted him alive, and he smiled down on her, nearly consumed with an all-consuming need—to get back at her.
Brandishing the ice-cold can of beer in one hand, he smoothly tucked their linked hands behind her back, jerking her close enough to make her gasp. Gasping was good. Gasping meant he had her right where he wanted her.
And, he thought as her cheeks went red, right where she wanted him to have her, too.
"You threw me in Ethel's path deliberately, didn't you?" he said, letting the beer can hover tauntingly close to her bare neck.
Her chin lifted, a show of bravery totally blown when her mouth quivered, barely six inches below his. "Maybe."
He tugged her closer. Close enough for their body heat to mingle, to see her pupils darken, blossom. To feel her breath on his face. "Any particular reason?"
"Other than this perverse streak I can't seem to shake?"
"Other than that, yeah."
Her voice gentled. "This might be way out of line, but you looked like you could use a little…loosening up."
Confusion short-circuited his thought for a second as he frowned into her eyes. Eyes filled, not with teasing, or the blatant sexual hunger of a moment before—had he imagined it?—but a deep concern, and kindness, that were far more dangerous.
He slowly lowered the beer can, let her go and backed away.
Save it for the kid, he wanted to say. Save it for somebody who needs saving.
"We should join the others," he said quietly, lifting the can to his lips.
"Joe—"
"Don't. Okay? Just…don't."
"Don't what? Call it the way I see it? Joe…" He'd turned away; she only tromped around to get in his face. "You look like a truck ran you over. Like you're carrying the weight of the whole damn world on your shoulders—"
"Taylor, I appreciate your concern, but I can't change my life just because some busybody female's worried about me."
If he thought—hoped—his rudeness would offend her, he'd been dead wrong. Instead of tucking her tail between her legs and scurrying away, she scowled at him. "Yeah, I figured that's how you'd see it. And you're right, it's none of my business. After all, it's not as if we're part of each other's lives or anything. But it is Seth's business, and at the moment he's part of both of our lives. If you don't want me to worry about you, fine. I won't. You wanna work yourself into the ground, you go right ahead." Her eyes narrowed. "But if you think that child isn't picking up on how overworked and exhausted and stressed you are, you'd better think again."
Instead of answering right away, he took another slug of beer. Not because he was trying to dull the pain—exactly—but to stop him from shooting off at the mouth. Even so, the alcohol sliding down his throat only seemed to exacerbate the frustration and helplessness flaring, raging inside him. Finally, he realized she wasn't going to go away until he said something. So he swung his gaze to hers.
"Okay, I'll admit I'm going through a rough patch right now, which is making me a little…tense—"
She snorted.
"—but it's nothing I can't handle."
"Then you'd better damn sight tell that to Seth. Because he's worried, Joe." She laid her hand on his arm. Bad move, honey. "A lot."
He frowned down at her fingers, pale against his darker skin, her pretty long nails all glossy and pink. Told himself it was just a trick of his imagination, that a single light touch could make him that hot, that fast. But dammit, his ears were burning. "He tell you that?"
"Not in so many words. But he went through it with his mother, after his father left. He worried about her, and he's worried about you. I can see it in his face."
Just as he could see it in hers. Their gazes tangled for a moment before he pushed out a sigh. The woman was aggravating as hell and far too honest for his comfort, but staying mad at her simply was not possible. How could he, when all she was doing was going to bat for the kid?
Joe dragged a hand over his mouth, then shook his head. "Thanks," he said to his shoes before looking back up at her. "For telling me about Seth. He still won't talk to me much. I mean, I keep telling him he can, but…" His mouth thinned. "And I guess I'm not real good at reading kids."
"You're probably a damn sight better than most," she said gently. "And I know you want what's best for him, which is half the battle. It's just…his losing his parents is still real fresh. So if he thinks he might lose you, too…"
"I get it." He blew out a breath, then said, "Okay, I'll admit I could use a vacation right about now. Or at least a good night's sleep." For some harebrained reason, he reached up to slide a knuckle down her cheek, its coolness soothing his heated skin. "But I'm not on the verge of keeling over, I swear."
Her eyes had widened, almost imperceptibly, but she didn't flinch. In fact, she went as still as a rabbit sensing danger. From outside, they heard a burst of laughter; neither of them reacted.
"You wouldn't be thinking again about kissing me, would you?" she said.
He smiled. "You do realize that no matter how I answer that question, I'm in trouble?"
"Yeah. So?"
Damn her.
He opened his mouth to say…well, he wasn't sure what he was going to say. Except then a couple of brain cells bumped into each other and he thought, maybe if he made her think he was some disgusting pig who was only after her body, she'd hightail it in the other direction and everybody would get through the summer and this…whatever it was would die a natural death.
"Honey," he said, his gaze fused with hers as he deliberately let his hand trail south, his fingers skimming her jaw…her neck…tracing the gentle ridge of clavicle before dipping farther to cup her breast, his thumb rasping over one hardened nipple, "I'm thinking about doing a helluva lot more than kissing you."
Her eyes lowered, taking in her breast in his hand, then lifted again. Except for a faint blush, there was nothing in her face to indicate her reaction. Other than her pupils practically swallowing up her irises.
"I really hate to tell you this," she said, "but if this is where I'm supposed to slap the daylights out of you…you blew it."
Then she backed away, leaving his hand feeling lonely and bereft, and walked outside. Joe took another pull of the beer, then got up from the stool, wondering if anything was ever going to go the way he'd planned, ever again.
* * *
Great. Now she was hornier than ever and Joe had just made it abundantly clear that he was trying to scare her off, which he might have had a better chance of accomplishing if he hadn't groped her, because—she now lamentably remembered—she really liked the feel of a man's hand on her breast and it had been way too long since one had been there.
But this went way beyond hands on breasts and Taylor's enjoyment thereof. This was about her having a real problem with people…men…Joe putting up that brave I'm-da-man-I-fix-everything front when it was patently obvious how much he was hurting, and how she couldn't stand seeing anything hurting and how patently unfair it seemed that someone as good and generous and selfless as that man should be hurting. In fact, the more she thought about it, the more ticked off she got. Because…because, dammit, here was somebody who deserved to be loved, and she had all this love just lying around and going to waste, but trying to get this idiot man to take it would be like trying to sell snow skis to a Tahitian.
Which made the sudden silence which greeted Joe's and her reappearance all the more irritating. Dawn's brows slid up a tri
umphant notch or two, Ethel was practically quivering with curiosity, and even Cal, who was the most laid-back of the three Logan brothers, was wearing a why-you-old-dog grin when the two men shook hands after Dawn introduced them.
"So…what happened?" Dawn whispered the first chance she got.
"Nothing," Taylor whispered back, stabbing a piece of celery into a bowl of onion dip. "What?" she said, crunching. "Did you expect us to go at it in your kitchen?"
"It wouldn't be the first time that kitchen's seen action."
"You know, you are the Queen of Too Much Information."
Dawn shrugged and took enough potato salad to feed three people. "I'm a newlywed, I'm allowed to be obnoxious."
Taylor snorted.
"You know," Dawn said, "for somebody who just had 'nothing' happen to her, you sure are…distraught."
"Not the word I would use." Taylor ripped a hunk out of the celery.
"Oh."
"Yeah. Oh." Taylor glanced over to see Joe talking to Cal, looking like a man whose body was going through the motions but whose mind was a million miles away. A pang swept through her, a bizarre mixture of sympathy, annoyance and regret. Then, as if he could hear her thoughts, his gaze swerved to hers, and she saw pretty much the same mixture in his eyes. Especially the regret.
And Taylor thought, that much of a masochist, she wasn't.
"I'm sorry," she said, giving Dawn's arm a squeeze, "but I'm not feeling well. I think I'd better just go on home."
"You are such a liar."
"Believe me, honey, I am not feeling well right now. Give my regrets to Cal, wouldja?" she said, then made tracks around the side of the house, feeling like a prisoner making a run for it. Only she obviously wasn't running anywhere because guess who had parked behind her?
She let out a PG-13 cussword and trooped back around the house to find Joe. "You're parked behind me, you need to move your car."
Everybody's Hero Page 13