by Marie Harte
“I agree.”
“So, uh, do you have plans tonight?”
He froze but tried to act nonchalant. “Just gonna go home, lift, watch some TV probably. You?”
She shrugged and glanced out the window again. “I figured I might cook something. And since you’ve been so nice, maybe you could come over to eat. Just for dinner,” she emphasized. “Not for any other reason than to be nice.”
“Must be killin’ ya.”
“Oh, trust me, it is.” Her eyes sparkled.
Tex wanted to kiss her so bad. Instead, he gave a slow nod. “I suppose that might be all right. Can you cook?”
“I can. And by the look of you, I’d say you like to eat.”
He patted his flat stomach, pleased when her attention centered there. “I sure do.” But he didn’t want to ruin things between them, so he gave her an easy, nonthreatening smile. “Thanks, Bree. I’d love dinner—and just dinner—at your place.” His cell phone rang. “Mind if I answer this?”
“Sure.”
He hit the Bluetooth feature in the car to answer, the caller coming through the car speakers.
“Tex?”
“Yeah. Who is this?”
“It’s Gerty, silly.” Her bubbly laugh came through. “So, any thought to posing naked so my friends can make a virtual duplicate of you for my game? Hubba hubba.”
He could sense the tension now in the truck’s confines. “Uh…”
“Kidding, handsome. Just kidding. I’m calling about Bubbles, you know, the sad woman in your life you promised to take care of?” Gerty sighed. “Bubbles. Worst stripper name of all time. Maybe Candy or Lady Ta-Ta. But Bubbles?”
Bree’s brows rose, and he could all but feel his invitation to her house being withdrawn bit by bit.
“Hey, ah, Gerty, I’m in the car with—”
“Shoot, gotta go. It’s in West Seattle. I’ll text you the address. Love you, cowboy.” She hung up.
A pregnant pause filled the truck.
“You do have plans after all,” Bree said.
Tex swore. “Damn it. That’s not what it sounded like.”
“Bubbles?”
“No. No way. Not tonight. You’re gonna see the truth if I have to drag you there and make you.” He turned the wheel, ignoring her protests, which soon turned to threats, and instructed Siri to take him to the address. “Geld me later, darlin’. Right now we have a hairy non-stripper to save.”
Chapter Six
Bree wanted to smack herself for being such a dupe. Twice before he’d burned her, and though she’d later found his excuses to have some merit, she should have learned her lesson. Inviting him to her house for dinner? She’d been clear the meal would be in the name of friendship and no more, but surely he could feel the sexual tension between them. She sure the hell could.
Except once again, some supposed female disaster needed Tex’s help to handle. It would have been laughable if he hadn’t forced her to come with him.
“Tex, I want to go home. Now.”
“Later. After you see the hell that is my life,” he said brusquely.
She studied him, interested despite herself. “Really? A stripper, Tex?” Not that she had anything against them. She’d modeled some scanty outfits in front of hundreds of people for money, though no one had tucked any bills into her G-string.
He barked a short laugh. “Trust me. She’s not a stripper. She’s a dog.”
“That is both cruel and insensitive.” She’d thought better of him.
“Damn it. I’m serious.”
Confused, Bree didn’t know what to think. “Fine, Tex. Have it your way. Let’s go meet Bubbles. Then I’ll get my dad to assign someone else to shadow me around.”
She hated to be like that, but he shouldn’t have strong-armed her into going. And she should never have invited him over in the first place.
His lips firmed. He glowered at the road and turned on the radio to a country station she sometimes listened to.
Twenty minutes later, they pulled in front of a house that had seen better days. Tex looked at his phone again, grimaced, and turned to her as he removed his seat belt. “Do me a favor and stay here. I have no idea what I’m walking into.”
She frowned. “You don’t know Bubbles?”
He rolled his eyes. “No, I don’t.”
“Then why are we here?”
“Because I’m a sucker, that’s why.” He opened the door. “Stay here,” he ordered and left.
Bree didn’t have long to fume about his command. Moments after he knocked on the front door, the door opened, and Tex pushed himself inside. The door closed. Minutes later, it opened again, and Tex led a huge dog outside by a leash. The shepherd-retriever mix had a dull gold coat and had to weigh close to eighty pounds, all of it lean muscle. The poor thing looked dejected, walking with its tail tucked, its ears low, as it followed Tex toward the truck.
He opened the door.
Bree blinked. “That’s a dog.”
“Meet Bubbles.”
“Bubbles is a dog.” She couldn’t say why she was so surprised. Tex had told her Bubbles was a dog, but she’d thought he was being discourteous calling her that.
“Yes, Bree, she’s a canine,” he said slowly. To Bubbles, he crouched and stroked her gnarled fur. “You poor thing. Someone’s been doing a piss poor job of takin’ care of you. Come on, girl. Get in the truck.” It took a little coaxing, but the dog eventually leaped into the back seat of the truck and lay down, her head on her paws, facing the seat back.
“She’s so…”
Tex sighed. “Sad. And miserable. I’d be miserable too if I’d lived with that prick.” He shut the back door and entered the front. “Sorry.” He clenched the steering wheel. “I mean, sorry about all of it. I should have simply dropped you off at home, but you seem to think the worst of me, and I don’t like it. I’m not a liar, Bree. I just have weird shit happen to me when you’re around.”
“I’m sorry too.” She reached back to pet the forlorn dog. “What’s the deal with Bubbles?”
Tex started the truck and pulled away. “She belongs—belonged—to an alcoholic who never played with her, took her out, or did anything with her. For the past two damn years! I guess when he broke off with his ex, he decided to be a dick and keep the dog to hurt her. And his ex was no better because she left the poor thing with him. Once his girlfriend left, the jackass stopped caring for the dog. She looks underweight to me, and she’s lethargic. He didn’t hit her or anything, but he ignored her and barely fed her. No vet visits, no playing, no belly rubs.” He glanced in the rearview and angled it down to see the dog. “You poor thing.”
“Oh, that’s so sad.”
“Yeah. I grabbed some dog food for a little dog a few days ago, thinking I’d be picking up a tiny thing for a few days. I had no idea Bubbles wasn’t some teacup poodle.” He grunted. “Oscar and Gerty owe me big for this.”
“Wait. You’re going to take care of her for them?”
“Only until we find her a home.”
Bree stared. “Tex, that’s…” Heroic, sweet, so incredibly caring. “I tell you what. Let’s stop at a grocery store on the way back to your place, and I’ll make you a nice dinner while you spoil Bubbles.” She sniffed. “But maybe give her a better name. That is not a bubbly dog.”
A slow smile worked its way over his lips. “Yeah? Well, then, that’s okay. You hear that Bubbles? We’re getting dinner tonight.”
She didn’t wag her tail, but Bree didn’t stop petting her.
Once settled into Tex’s two-bedroom cottage in Beacon Hill, Bree watched him show the dog his nice-sized yard, letting her do her business. “You sure you’re okay if I get her used to the house and yard?” Tex called from outside through the open back door.
“No, please. Go ahead. I’ll just make m
yself at home in your kitchen, if that’s okay.”
“Cool. No problem. Thanks, Bree.” Tex remained outside with Bubbles, who’d finally seemed to come to life, sniffing around his yard. He had a good space of fenced-in privacy, though his neighbors on either side weren’t that far away.
The house itself felt like him. It was pretty enough on the outside, a one-story cottage with white, wooden siding and black shutters up on a slight hill, so they’d had to climb stairs to reach it from the street. Old beechwood floors covered the living and dining rooms, with a large, black-and-white ceramic tiled kitchen. The walls had been painted a light gray, the furniture sturdy enough to fit a man of Tex’s frame and surprisingly tasteful in a Shaker style. Once, she might have guessed it would resemble a frat house, but the inside was warm and inviting, much like the man outside, taking care of a neglected dog.
The off-white kitchen had a small, butcher-block island in its center, the only dining area a round table between the kitchen and living room, the space open yet sectioned off by the archways in the ceilings, denoting each area.
Bree’s own home boasted more modern furnishings, but this fit Tex: earthy and down-home.
She started on a simple meal of already-baked chicken, some fresh boiled beets, and a nice salad.
By the time the chicken had warmed up, she’d prepared the beets and salad as she watched Tex and Bubbles through the kitchen window, overlooking the backyard.
That poor dog. She still looked sad, yet she seemed to come to life under Tex’s gentle guidance.
Watching him with the animal had opened a whole new side to the sexy cowboy, showing he had depth under the playboy exterior.
After setting the table and pouring them both glasses of water to go with dinner, she stepped through the doorway onto the porch to find the dog lying belly down next to Tex while he brushed her with slow strokes.
Bree quietly left him to grab her camera from her bag and snapped several photos from behind the pair, the sunset giving the shot a glow.
“All ready?” Tex asked, not turning around, and put the brush down to stroke the dog’s ears and muzzle with a gentle touch. When he stopped, Bubbles nudged his hand to continue. Tex chuckled. “See, now, girl? I knew you’d come around.”
Yeah, apparently, we all do. Bree didn’t say it, but she wondered what the heck she was doing making Tex dinner. We’re friends, she told herself. Just friends. He’s sweet, and he’s saving a senior dog. “Hey, Tex, how old is Bubbles, anyway?” She walked back inside and stowed her camera.
“I think Oscar told me she’s seven.”
“Really?” Yet as the dog entered behind Tex, her golden color shone, and only the hint of gray under her chin and above her eyes showed her age. Her tail wagged, and she looked up at Tex with love.
“It’s so weird,” Tex was saying as he washed his hands in the kitchen sink. “She’s the sweetest thing, doesn’t shy away when I pet her, so I don’t think she was ever beat down. But there are so many ways to abuse that don’t leave a mark, you know?”
She nodded. “On people too. That’s not just limited to animals.”
After a pause, he asked, “You know that from personal experience?”
“Oh, me? No.” She shook her head. “Can you imagine what my dad would do to anyone who tried to hurt me?”
Tex eased up. “Good point.”
“But I had two friends when I was in high school. One of them had an abusive boyfriend. He used to beat her, leaving marks where they wouldn’t show. The creep. The other had a pretty rough upbringing. So sad. Her dad used to beat her mom in front of her, but her mom was too scared to leave him.”
“I just don’t understand that.” Tex frowned. “Hell, in our house, you never hit a girl. Even if she wallops you with a two-by-four.”
“Really?”
“That’s actually how my oldest brother met his wife, but that’s another story.”
“One I want to hear.” She grinned.
Tex laughed. “I’m sure Liam deserved it.” He stood in the dining room, staring at the set table. “Holy crap. That looks amazing. Smells even better.”
“Let’s eat.”
She noted that he waited until she sat before he did, which made her feel a little funny. Good funny. His manners and chivalric tendency threw her. Made her like him a little bit more.
For all her need to be treated equally, she didn’t mind being catered to. Oh, not all the time, but the little things he’d been doing since Wednesday, when they’d started her project, had been about seeing to her comforts before his. She’d been on plenty of dates with guys who, though nice enough, didn’t hold a chair out for her or didn’t let her go first through the door. And that habit of putting a hand on the small of her back while he waited for her to precede him… At first it had been annoying, that shocking connection. Now she looked forward to it.
Man, I need to be super careful with this one.
They dug into the dinner, which had been easy enough to prepare.
“This is so good.” Tex ate slowly, savoring each bite. She wished he’d stop looking so…satisfied. Because she kept imagining him making that face in a bed. On top of a woman. Like her.
“It’s just baked chicken. And all I did was spice it up and reheat it.” She kept her gaze on her plate, trying to focus on her food.
A paw landed on her lap, followed by a whine.
“Now, Bubbles, behave.” Tex shook his head. “No, girl. Nope.”
The dog glanced at him then looked back at Bree.
“No,” Tex said, his voice firmer.
Bubbles dropped her paw and crawled under the table.
“I think you scared her,” she said, feeling terrible.
“Dogs should have manners. And beggin’ from the table is a no-no. Something my momma taught me and my brothers early on.”
“Not to feed the dog, huh?”
“Nope. Not to beg for seconds till everyone else finished their firsts.” Tex chuckled. “We ate a lot growing up.”
“I’ll bet.”
“I sure do miss Momma’s cooking.” He sighed and took another bite. “But this makes up for it.”
“Yeah, sure.” She felt herself blushing under his compliment. “So why did you become a firefighter?” She’d been dying to know, and he never had answered her question before.
“Simple, really.” He shrugged. “I grew up on a ranch but wanted to see more than Houston. So, I joined the Marine Corps, like my daddy and his daddy before him—we boys all spend a few years in the service before we find a civvy job—and I realized how much I liked helping people.”
“You helped people in the service?”
He nodded. “I know a lot of Marines who had trouble overseas. We’re in some real shit nowadays, you know?” At her nod, he continued, “Fortunately, I had a good tour and didn’t have to shoot at anyone. Anyway, my time came up to reenlist or get out, and I knew I was ready to get back to normal life. But I just couldn’t go back home for good. It didn’t feel right.” He tapped his chest. “In here, I knew I needed to do something else. After visiting at home a few months, I ended up following a few friends out this way. My best bud went to Portland, so I went with him. While there, I watched a fire rescue. It hit me that I wanted to do that, make people safe. But then I moved around, found out I liked Seattle better—and yeah, there was a gal involved.”
She sighed. “Of course there was.”
He laughed. “She was just a friend, and it was years ago. She’s now happily married—to that best bud I mentioned. They live back in Portland.”
“Huh. Wouldn’t have thought that would work.”
“Right?” Tex shrugged. “It’s a wacky world. But I stayed here, became an EMT, met Brad and the guys, clicked, and kept on as a firefighter. It’s even better than being a Marine—but don’t quote me on that, or th
e guys will give me grief.”
“Did you like the Marines?”
“Loved it. Didn’t like how cut-and-dried it was though. You’re all good until you get a bad commanding officer. Then life can get sticky.”
“Makes sense.” She poked at her chicken, her appetite fading as her interest in Tex grew. “I mean, I’ve had some bad bosses. But I had the option to quit. You can’t do that in the military.”
“No, ma’am.” He sat back and patted his belly. “Damn, that was good.”
“Want more?”
“I will.” He winked. “But not yet. Gotta let my food settle first. But don’t let me stop you from eating.”
She forced herself to take another bite, not sure where her appetite had gone, and focused instead on the beets, which were amazing, if she did say so herself.
“What about you? What’s your story?”
Since he’d shared his own, she thought it only fair to share hers. “Well, I didn’t join the military. I had a pretty nice life with a great family—minus the stepsister.” She wrinkled her nose, wishing she could stop feeling the hurt that always accompanied the anger at thoughts of Melissa. “I was lucky enough to model for a few years out of high school. I learned a lot, living in Europe on my own.”
“I can’t believe your dad let you go.”
“Right?” She laughed. “I couldn’t either, but I wanted to go, and he’d promised my mom he’d always support my dreams.” She missed her mother sometimes, so much. But Charlie had helped fill a maternal role with love and support, balancing Bree’s father. “My mom passed away when I was a kid. Totally random accident.”
“Oh, man. I’m sorry.”
“Me too.” She liked that his empathy wasn’t over- or underwhelming. It just was. “Anyway, my mom had done some modeling, and she said she’d learned a lot from the experience. I did too.”
“All good?”
“And bad. Heck, I was eighteen in a foreign city on my own—Paris. Trust me when I say I learned a lot.” She smiled. “I made great friends. I met my best friend, Carrie, through our time modeling. We roomed together over there. They take a bunch of girls and put them together in cheap apartments. You live in a big group while you do smaller shows and magazines. It was fun, but man, a lifetime ago.” She laughed at herself. “People seem so impressed by it. It wasn’t easy, but it was something I did that made me enough money to come home, get a loan for a house, and figure out how to make a living as a photographer. I learned a lot being on the other end of a photoshoot.”