“By Olivia?”
“As a matter of fact. But let’s not get off track, here. We’re talking about you, not me.”
“I have a feeling there’s a connection.”
“Maybe.”
“I’m no dummy, Trevor. Olivia’s a widow and so am I. I haven’t dated and she’s determined not to date even though she is itching to get her hands on you.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.”
“You know she is. And you’re blushing.”
“It’s the heat from the fire.”
“Speaking of fires, aren’t you on call tonight?”
“Yep. Got my phone in my pocket.” He leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out in front of him. He was ready to shift the focus of this conversation. “Let’s create a scenario. Say a handsome guy in his mid-to-late forties blew into town.”
“Is he a cowboy?”
“Do you want him to be?”
“Of course I do. Riding and horses are my life. And you boys.” She took a swallow of her root beer. “I’m not hooking up with some greenhorn who insists on group singalongs during a trail ride.”
“Someone did that?”
“Last weekend. I thought for sure Zane was going to gag him with a bandana.”
“No greenhorns, then. Let’s say a handsome, forty-something cowboy rides into town.”
“On a horse? Nobody does that anymore.”
“He rides in on his Harley. How do you feel about motorcycles?”
“I don’t know. Never been on one. Have you?”
“A few times. It’s fun. Excuse me a minute. The fire needs tending.” Levering himself from the easy chair, he went over, crouched by the hearth and used the tongs to rearrange what was left of the wood. He added one more log.
It never failed to amaze him that this cheerful blaze, if turned loose instead of being caged in this fireplace, could destroy the better part of an alpine forest, especially if the forest hadn’t been managed well. After working with ENFD for the past couple of months, he’d never again underestimate the power of fire.
By the time he settled back in his chair, he had more info on the Harley-riding cowboy. “He has a mustache.”
“Who does?”
“Your cowboy. Are you okay with that?”
“I have no idea. I’ve never kissed a man with a mustache. Why does he have to have one?”
“I dunno. That’s just how I see him. He’s kind, generous, and very attracted to you.”
“Does he have an income? I’m not getting involved with a deadbeat.”
“He has an income. I’m just not sure what he does yet.”
“Well, get back to me on that, because it’s important.”
“Let’s just say he has a decent income. Would you go out with him?”
She gazed at him without speaking.
“Yes or no? Is Dad your one and only or would you consider getting to know someone new?”
She opened her mouth. “I think—”
His phone chimed. The station.
“You have to go.”
“I do. House fire.” He stood and dug his keys from his jeans pocket. “We’ll finish this discussion later.”
“Sure.” She got up and gave him a tight hug. “Take care of yourself.”
He hugged her back. “Always.” He headed out to his truck. He liked it better when she didn’t know he was going off to a fire. She worried. But it couldn’t be helped tonight.
The timing had been lousy, cutting off their discussion right when she’d been about to reveal whether she’d date this mythical guy he’d dreamed up. She’d played along with his little game, though. She wasn’t totally opposed to the idea.
But that was after twenty-six years. Olivia had only been a widow for three. On the other hand, Olivia didn’t have five young boys to raise. In that case, three years might be enough.
Hours later, Trevor stumbled into the house, set his alarm and fell into bed without showering or changing clothes. He lay awake for a little while as adrenaline coursed through his system. They’d saved the dwelling, but more important, they’d saved the people, their two dogs and their cat.
The cat had been a challenge because she’d hidden under a bed in the kids’ room. Trevor had spied her under there and by some miracle had coaxed her out. The two kids had gone a little crazy when he’d climbed out of the second story with the calico snuggled against his turnout.
He and his buddies had celebrated a “good” fire when they’d made it back to the station. A good fire, as he’d learned, meant no creature had been killed, either animal or human. The wildfire near Olivia’s house wouldn’t qualify. While the forest dwellers who could run, crawl or fly away had escaped, the rest had been SOL.
It seemed his alarm chimed only seconds after he’d fallen asleep. He managed a quick shower, drank a cup of coffee from the pot his mom had left for him in the kitchen and took a couple of pieces of peanut butter toast when he headed out.
Fortunately, he’d spend the day pulling off shingles and the pitch of her roof wasn’t steep. The prep work wouldn’t require much thought or precision.
Just like the night before, she came out when he drove up. She peered at him as he climbed out of the truck. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. Why?”
“You didn’t shave.”
He rubbed his chin. Sure enough. “Had a house fire last night.”
“Is everyone okay?”
“They are. We contained it with only minor damage. Everyone got out safely.”
“Good, but Trevor, you look dead on your feet. Maybe you should go home and get some rest instead of tackling this today.”
“I appreciate your concern, but I checked my weather app while I had my coffee and there’s a storm front moving in early next week. I need to get on this.”
Her gaze searched his. “Okay. What can I do?”
“Make me some more coffee, if you wouldn’t mind. One cup isn’t going to hold me.”
“I’m on it. Have you had anything to eat?”
“Peanut butter toast.”
“Then plan to take a break at ten. I’ll have something more substantial for you.”
“Thanks.” Evidently the offer of nourishing food had given him a new burst of energy, because his weariness evaporated. Or maybe it was the woman offering that food.
“Can I help you pull off the shingles?” She said it hesitantly, as if hoping he’d refuse the offer.
He grinned at her. “Much as sharing the time with you would be great, I’d rather have you down below making coffee and fixing food. That’s a chauvinistic division of labor and I apologize in advance.”
She looked relieved. “No worries. I have zero experience pulling off shingles. I might hinder more than I’d help.”
“Do you still have those cookies?”
“I do. In fact I’ll make some more. But I’m going to insist you eat some scrambled eggs before you load up on sweets.”
“I will. And thank you.”
Her smile was more powerful than a jolt of caffeine. “You’re welcome.”
After she went inside, he propped his ladder against the house and climbed to the roof. These picturesque shingles, otherwise known as fuel, were going down.
Chapter Ten
At ten o’clock, Olivia walked out to call Trevor in for a late breakfast. His shirt hung over the side mirror of his work truck. Shading her eyes with her hand, she peered up at the slanted roof.
He was working on this side, which gave her an excellent view. His back glistened with sweat as he ripped off shingles and threw them into the dumpster below. The stirring display of male power immersed her in a big ol’ vat of lust. No telling how long she stood there. Long enough for him to glance down and spy her watching him.
He heaved a shingle into the dumpster and walked to the edge of the roof.
Her stomach bottomed out. “Don’t get too close!”
“I won’t.” Taking off his gloves,
he shoved them in his back pocket. Then he pulled a bandana out of his other back pocket, took off his hat and mopped his face. “I’m a safety-first kind of guy.”
“I have a touch of acrophobia. I don’t like seeing anyone standing in a place they could fall from.”
He took a couple of steps back up the roof. “Better?”
“Yes. Thanks.” Considerate and insanely handsome. What more could a woman want? His chest glistened with sweat, too. She licked her lips, as if she could taste the salt on his skin.
“Is it break time?”
“Sure is!” She sounded as enthusiastic as a summer camp counselor. It was a wonder she could speak after drinking in the sight of all that masculinity. From this angle his shoulders looked a mile wide. And his package…damn, she should never focus there. Huge mistake.
“So the food’s ready?”
“Whenever you are. I just need to scramble the bread and toast the eggs.” Her cheeks warmed. “I meant—”
He grinned. “I know what you meant.” He rubbed the bandana over his head before replacing his hat. “I’ll be right down.”
“I’ll start the eggs.” She hurried inside. She wasn’t prepared to stand next to his shirtless self. If he came in bare-chested she was in big trouble.
Dealing with his bare chest today was a hundred times more arousing than when she’d met him coming from his shower in the hall of the ranch house. This time he was laboring to save her house. And she longed to express her appreciation. Oh, man, did she ever.
Her kickboxing classes were supposed to work off excess steam, but maybe it was counterproductive. She was more aware of her body than ever in her life. Her coordination had improved, too. Bottom line, she’d be way better at sex after all those workouts. She wanted to test it.
Not that she would! Good Lord. She fanned herself and took several deep breaths. Then she whisked the hell out of the eggs.
No backtracking. She’d made her case last night and Trevor had left after their spaghetti dinner. He understood her position. But if he’d noticed her staring at him on the roof, that could complicate matters.
His boots echoed on the porch and he came through the front door into the living room. “I smell cookies!”
“That’s the new batch. I want you to have plenty for the weekend.” She dumped the eggs in the frying pan and glanced up.
He’d put on his shirt. He hadn’t fastened all the snaps, but most of them. He’d left his shirttails out. She fought the impulse to grab the front of his shirt and yank it open.
He started toward the counter where she was cooling the cookies on sheets of waxed paper. “I know what you said, but one or two won’t hurt anything.”
“I disagree.” A devilish impulse made her step between him and the cookies. “Sweets on an empty stomach is never a good idea.”
He advanced until his body nearly touched hers. “I think it’s a great idea. Haven’t you heard the saying Life’s short. Eat dessert first?”
Her breathing got all wonky and her glasses steamed up. “Haven’t you heard the saying Patience is a virtue?”
“Heard it. Never subscribed to it.” Reaching around her, he snagged a cookie. “You baked these for me, right?”
“Yes, but—”
“I’m claiming one.” He bit into it and closed his eyes. “Mm.”
Pulse racing, she scooted away, abandoning the field. Her glasses weren’t so fogged that she couldn’t see him perfectly. If she spent another second watching him eat that cookie, she’d beg him to kiss her.
She flipped into hostess mode. “Coffee’s made and mugs are in the cupboard above the coffeepot. Cream’s in the fridge if you use it.”
“I don’t, but thanks.” He took down a mug and poured himself some coffee. “How about you? Ready for some?”
Some what? She pressed her lips together so she wouldn’t laugh. Then she cleared her throat. “Yes, thanks.”
He pulled out a second mug. “Should I leave room for cream?”
“I like it black.” She dished up their plates. Concentrating on simple tasks seemed to be the only thing that calmed her runaway hormones.
“So why do you have cream on hand?” He filled the mug.
“I knew you’d be here working this weekend and I couldn’t remember if you used it or not.”
“Hey, that was nice of you to think of me.”
He had no idea how often she thought of him.
“And these cookies are amazing. Is there a secret ingredient?”
“Ghirardelli chocolate chips.”
“That explains it. Primo chocolate chips.”
She picked up both plates. “We’re ready to eat if you—” She stared in shock at the counter. “How many cookies have you had?”
He shrugged. “I dunno. Ten or twelve. Who’s counting?”
“You’ll make yourself sick!”
“Haven’t, yet. When I’m doing hard physical labor I can get away with eating stuff that would normally ruin my digestion. Besides, I have a cast iron stomach.”
Naturally. She’d never met such a virile man. “If you say so.” She handed him a plate. “I put silverware and napkins in the dining room.”
“Then let’s get to it.” He picked up his mug in his free hand. “This looks delicious.”
“You’re still hungry after eating all those cookies?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He gave her a wink. “Did I say that right?”
“You did.” He’d said it more seductively than he’d ever know. “I can’t believe you have room for breakfast.”
“Oh, I do. Mom used to call me the bottomless pit.” He waited for her to go into the dining room before he followed. “All of us liked to eat, but I guess I liked it more than anyone.”
“Then it’s a good thing I baked another batch of cookies.”
“Where are the ones from last night?”
She laughed. “I’m not sure I should tell you. I need to save some for tomorrow.”
“Then don’t tell me. The temptation would drive me crazy. I’ll make do with what’s left on the counter.”
She took the same seat she’d had the night before and so did he.
After he put his napkin on his lap, he rubbed his bristly chin. “This is so nice, cloth napkins and all. And me looking like a derelict.”
“No, you don’t. You look like a man who spent the night fighting a fire and got up early to come work on my roof. How much sleep did you get?” She picked up her fork when she figured out he was waiting for her.
“A couple of hours.” He tucked into his breakfast.
“Yikes, Trevor. And you’re walking around on the edge of my roof?”
He swallowed and wiped his mouth with the napkin. “Don’t worry. If I start feeling tired, I’ll take a little nap in my truck. Then I’ll finish up. I’m about half done removing those shingles.”
“You don’t have to sleep in your truck.”
“Where would you like me to sleep?” His tone sounded innocent but his glance wasn’t.
Face hot, she braved it out and pretended she didn’t understand that look. “You can use my couch if you need a nap.”
“Very kind of you.”
“I’m a kind person.”
“I know you are.” He held her gaze a moment longer before returning to his meal. “While I was up there working I got to thinking about something.”
She’d just bet he did. “What?”
“This is an older home so stuff’s bound to go wrong now and then. Do you mostly handle the maintenance yourself?” He took another forkful of eggs.
“If it’s easy. Repairing the wall was beyond my skills. If it’s plumbing or electrical, I hire someone.”
“That can get pricey.”
“It can. Some things, like a leaky faucet, I just let go until I have several plumbing issues to stack on one service call.”
He nodded. “Makes sense. Have you ever thought of hiring a general handyman who could take care of everything?”
>
“I had one, but he retired and moved away. I haven’t bothered to look for someone else.”
“How about me?”
Her brain stalled. “I…well…I guess maybe, if you—”
“You could pay me in cookies.”
“Of course I wouldn’t pay you in cookies! You’re a professional.” And way too sexy to be her handyman.
“I’d be doing it as a friend, not a hired hand, and cookies would be awesome. I’ve been buying them because I have a massive cookie habit. These are a hundred times better than any I can buy.”
“Why don’t you just make your own?”
“Never did learn to bake, and the process doesn’t interest me, to be honest. Just the product. Mom used to bake, but she doesn’t do it as much now. I wouldn’t suggest this except I can tell you enjoy making them and it seems like a great trade.”
“How do you know I enjoy making them?”
“Because they taste so good. You must love doing it.”
“Well, you’re right. I do love it. The mixing, the spooning out the batter, the way it makes the kitchen smell, seeing them lined up on the counter. I used to make them all the time for…”
“Edward. It’s okay. You can say that.”
“It doesn’t bother you?”
“Sure it does, but if I’m going to be your friend I’ll have to get over being jealous. He was a major player in your life and still is, in a way.”
“Are you going to be my friend?” It was an intriguing concept but she didn’t think it would work.
“I’d like to. I want to work on it. Crazy as it sounds, I missed you last week.”
“I missed you, too. I probably shouldn’t tell you that. You might think—”
“That you’ve changed your mind? I know you haven’t or we’d be in the bedroom right now.”
She gasped. “We would not!”
“Yes, we would, and you know it. When you tried to stop me from eating the cookies, there was a moment when you wanted me, but you were fighting it. If I’d grabbed you then…but I didn’t and you pulled yourself together.”
She covered her face with her hands. “You see too much!”
“I see a warm, sexy woman who can’t allow herself to feel those emotions. It must be tough.”
A Cowboy's Courage (The McGavin Brothers Book 5) Page 8