Texas Fire

by Kimberly Raye

  “Tell me there’s an actual leg under there and some alligator didn’t take a bite out of you.”

  “I never actually made it to the Outback. I was climbing the steps to board the plane in Austin and the damned thing wasn’t locked into place. The steps slid and I fell.

  “Were you on the bottom step going up to the plane, or the top step walking in?”

  “I broke my leg in three places. Does that say bottom step?”

  “Aw, hell, man.” Mason sank down in the chair opposite his brother. “Are you okay?”

  “I will be.” Rance pushed his hat back even further and ran a hand over his face. “In about six weeks if all goes well. Until then, I’m supposed to take it easy.”

  “You don’t take it easy.”

  “That’s what I told the doc. He said if I want to walk again, I’d better get the ants out of my pants and settle down until everything heals.”

  “Otherwise?”

  “No more gator wrestling. Or hiking in the Himalayas or anything else I’ve got planned.”

  “Sounds serious.”

  “Not as long as I follow his instructions, which I intend to do.”

  “Which is why you came home.” Mason gave him a knowing look. “Couldn’t resist the call of that rock wall you installed last year to practice your mountain climbing?”

  Rance shrugged. “I’ve never been good when it comes to temptation. I figured I’d hole up here, watch the grass grow, fill up on Aunt Lurline’s cooking and see for myself if my oldest brother’s lost his mind.” He shook his head and Mason read the same disbelief he’d felt when he’d heard the news. “Josh is really getting married?”

  “That’s the plan.”

  “Is she pregnant?”

  “She doesn’t have to be. He’s in love.”

  “You really believe that?”

  “I didn’t believe it until I saw him. He’s different now. There’s this light in his eyes whenever he talks about her. Or looks at her.”

  “Maybe he’s sick.”

  “He’s not sick.”

  “He could be. I caught a bug over in the Polynesian islands during a windsurfing championship two years ago—nothing serious, just a temporary thing—and it made me act crazier than a hornet at an annual Honeyfest. I don’t remember much, but when the fever peaked, I recall running around the beach, telling everyone that I was Steve Irwin, the Crocodile Hunter. Hell, I don’t even like the guy. Talk about crazy.”

  “He’s not sick. He’s in love,” Mason heard himself say. Love? Sure, he believed in the concept. There was too much fuss about it for it not to exist. He just didn’t think it had a damned thing to do with marriage and happily ever after. Getting along with someone was all about connecting on a physical and emotional level. Then again, he supposed if he had that dual connection with someone, he’d probably fall in love with them.

  But Holly Farraday didn’t know the first thing about flying. She was raised in the city. Several of them, or so Josh had told him. She’d been in and out of foster homes most of her life, while Josh had grown up in the same house, on the same spread, surrounded by the same people day in and day out. She’d never set a horse or roped a calf, while he’d excelled at both. She didn’t have anything in common with Josh.

  And he loved her anyway. So the lust factor must be pretty high.

  “He’s really hot for her,” Rance said as if reading Mason’s mind. What he didn’t say—and what both were obviously thinking—is that Josh had been hot for women in the past and he’d never gone so far as to drop down on one knee and propose. “It’ll fade before they make it to the alter.”

  “Hopefully, not that we’re going to say as much to him. This is his call, not ours.”

  “You don’t have to remind me. I’ve already got a broken leg. I’m not adding a nose to the list.”

  Mason smiled at the memory of Josh and Rance rolling around in the pasture. They’d been thirteen and Josh had announced that he was going to kiss Mary Jean Brenton. Rance had said he shouldn’t because she smelled like milk on account of she had to milk her daddy’s cows before school. Josh had said he liked milk, Rance had called him a cow lover, and the fight had started. Josh had won and set the precedent when it came to women—namely the McGraw triplets respected each other’s tastes and kept their mouths shut.

  Josh was a grown man and he could make his own decisions.

  Good and bad.

  “So you’re here for six weeks, huh?” Mason asked his brother.

  Rance nodded. “Until my appointment with my doctor in Austin at the end of next month.”

  Mason noted the suitcase sitting on the porch. “Does anybody even know you’re here?”

  He shook his head. “I had a cab drop me off about a half hour ago. I was going to go inside, but it sounded too quiet so I thought maybe Aunt Lurline and Uncle Eustess were already in bed.”

  “I should be so lucky.”

  Rance grinned. “They’re still fighting, huh?”

  “Do they ever stop?”

  As if on cue, a door slammed somewhere inside the house and both men listened to the sound of footsteps coming toward them. The light flipped on in the kitchen just to the right and a woman’s soft hum carried on the night breeze.

  “Lurline sounds pretty mellow to me.”

  Only because Eustess hadn’t followed her out, both men realized a few seconds later when more footsteps sounded and a man cleared his throat.

  “Do you have to make all those nasty sounds, Eustess? I came out here to get myself a snack and you’re making me lose my appetite.”

  “I’ve got a frog in my throat.”

  “There’s no such thing.”

  “There damn sure is, woman. My daddy had a frog in his throat and I’ve got one in mine.” He made a big show of clearing his throat and gagging several times. “See there? You can hear it.”

  “Unfortunately. Why, now I don’t even want to eat my cream of wheat.”

  “Cream of wheat’s too fattening anyway. You ought to try bran flakes.”

  “Are you saying I’m fat?”

  “They don’t call that thing you’re wearing a housedress for nothing.”

  “Why, I never…”

  Rance pushed to his feet. “I guess it’s time I go in and give them a distraction.”

  “You need some help?”

  “I wrestle gators, bro. I can handle a little old suitcase.” He reached for his crutches, propped them under his arms and leaned to the side to retrieve his suitcase. The crutches wobbled and he would have teetered to the side if Mason hadn’t caught him.

  “Leave the suitcase wrestling to me. Doctor’s orders.”

  Rance frowned and headed for the back door while Mason retrieved his bag. He was just about to pull open the screen when he turned toward Mason. “You’re not going to tell anyone that I’m here, are you? Anyone in town, that is?”

  “If you’re referring to a certain Nadine Codge, I haven’t even seen her since I’ve been home.”

  “You don’t have to see her to know she’s here somewhere. She’s always here. Watching and listening. I swear she has bionic hearing.”

  “It’s called a small town. News travels fast.”

  “Not this news. Just pretend like I’m not here and tell Josh to do the same.”

  “You really think she’ll come running after you like she used to?”

  “You really think she won’t?” Rance asked.

  Mason’s mind rushed back to their teenage years. Mason and his brothers had been pursued by many women in high school, but Nadine “Deanie” Codge had given new meaning to the word.

  She’d been the youngest of five children and the only girl. The runt, or so everyone had always called her, hence the name Teeny Deanie. But there’d been nothing small about the way she’d hounded Rance, always showing up wherever he went and following him around, bringing him cookies. She’d wanted him to like her and the only thing he’d ever felt had been annoyance.

/>   And a little fear.

  For someone so tiny, she’d been damned persistent.

  “I won’t say a word,” Mason told his brother. “And neither will Josh.”

  “Good. The last thing I need is Deanie bugging me while I’m trying to recuperate. I’m supposed to take it easy, not break my other leg trying to get away from a crazy woman. I swear, she drives me nuts.”

  Mason knew the feeling, only the source of his anxiety had nothing to do with a pint-sized brunette with a gallon-sized will and everything to do with the elderly couple this close to duking it out in his kitchen. Not to mention a certain uptight blonde…

  “Dadblame it, Eustess!” Lurline’s voice grew louder as Mason followed his brother into the house. “You know I cain’t stand bananas in my cream of wheat. I like raisins.”

  “Nobody in their right mind likes raisins. Ain’t nothing better than a banana. Why, I been eating bananas all my life and my mind’s as fit as ever. Did the crosswords in this mornin’s paper in fifteen minutes flat.”

  “Are you saying I’m crazy?”

  “Well, you ain’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer. Otherwise, you’d do a few crosswords yourself ’stead of watching so much dadblamed TV.”

  “You watch TV.”

  “Sure enough. Informative shows like the news and Jerry Springer. I don’t waste my time on Oprah.”

  “Oprah is brilliant.”

  “She’s a Jerry wannabe…”

  Obviously the first session with Charlene hadn’t helped his great-aunt and -uncle. Not that he’d expected results after just an hour. Sure, he’d hoped. Especially when he’d picked them both up at Charlene’s office and they’d been smiling at each other.

  As if all had been right with the world.

  But Eustess and Lurline had been arguing much too long to turn it all off just like that. They’d been going at it for almost as long as Mason could remember.

  Almost.

  But there were a few bits and pieces of the past—other than when he’d picked them up at Charlene’s place—when they’d actually seemed to like each other. He could distinctly remember Lurline feeding Eustess a bite of cherry cobbler at the annual Romeo Rodeo Bake-Off, and Eustess twirling Lurline around a sawdust-covered dance floor at the Spring Fling. Mason had been a small boy back then. Eustess had had all of his hair and a twinkle in his blue eyes and Lurline had been trim and vivacious despite birthing three kids.

  But then she’d gone on to have several more, her figure had disappeared completely and Eustess had started to lose his hair. Their physical attraction to each other had obviously faded. They’d been arguing and making each other miserable ever since.

  Mason knew they just needed to recapture the lust they’d initially felt. Sure, they were old. But he was a firm believer in the power of lust. Mason had seen it firsthand with Tucker and Linda who’d been total opposites, and it seemed the same way for Josh and Holly. He knew he could see it again with his great-aunt and -uncle who’d simply grown apart.

  Unfortunately, Charlene Singer wasn’t nearly as enlightened. She wanted a soul mate, for crying out loud. A boring, eyebrow burning pediatrician who—Mason had heard just that afternoon from Skeeter and his cronies down at the diner—ate actual cockroaches as a form of weight control.

  Talk about crazy.

  On top of it all, Mason had agreed to help her.

  Talk about really crazy.

  And the real kicker was, he was actually going to go through with the ridiculous three-point plan. He’d given his word, after all, and Mason was a man who always kept his promises.

  Both to others, and to himself.

  7

  MASON STARED at Charlene as she exited the dressing room of the elite boutique located in the heart of downtown Romeo and the air caught in his chest.

  She wore a hot pink miniskirt that emphasized her endless legs and a matching halter top that hugged her breasts and outlined her ripe nipples.More than anything, however, it was the uncertainty in her expression that made him want to reach out and pull her into his arms. It was the same look she’d worn when he’d walked in on her in the Hee Haw underpants. And his reaction was the same.

  He didn’t act on it now any more than he had then. For different reasons. He hadn’t understood the pull between them back then. He’d been young and naive, and then when he’d come to understand his infatuation with her, he hadn’t been able to act on it. His parents had died and his life had turned upside down. He’d had to leave, to throw himself into his rodeoing and then his business so that he didn’t feel the loss as deeply.

  Everything had changed now.

  Yet nothing had changed because Mason was still holding back. For different reasons, of course. Charlene wouldn’t welcome his advances because she didn’t believe in them. She didn’t believe in lust.

  Unfortunately, he was stuck smack-dab in the middle of it.

  She turned in a circle before giving him a questioning gaze. “How does this look?”

  “Fine,” he managed to say in a calm, cool voice that didn’t betray the damned urge to haul her close and convince her just how fine she truly was.

  “I don’t know.” She seemed almost disappointed by his reaction as she turned toward the floor-length mirror situated just to the right of the dressing room doorway. As if she’d expected more of a reaction. As if she wanted one.

  “Maybe the color is a little too bright,” she said.

  “It’s fine.” Where the hell did that come from? He had a whole bunch of adjectives swirling in his brain—sexy, hot, bold, provocative—but damned if they could make the trek to his mouth.

  “Maybe I should try the blue dress.”

  “Fine.” He swallowed and tried to calm his pounding heart as she disappeared back behind the floor-length black curtain.

  Pounding, of all things when he’d sworn to himself just that morning that he was going to focus on helping her pick out some nice clothes. He wasn’t going to focus on her, as in the way the pink played up her creamy complexion or the way the spandex clung to her curves and made her seem that much more voluptuous. He wasn’t going to go after a woman who wanted someone else.

  Stewart.

  What woman in their right mind would want a guy named Stewart? Why, the guy couldn’t even use a bunson burner for Christ’s sake. Sure, that had been a long time ago, but Mason wasn’t going to risk getting too close. A guy didn’t just outgrow that kind of clumsiness. He couldn’t imagine that Charlene—smart, intelligent, sexy Charlene—would get within five feet of the guy much less want to be his soul mate.

  He fought down a wave of jealousy and shifted his attention to the racks of clothing that filled the shop.

  Miss Jolie’s carried everything from trendy hip-hugger jeans and camisole tops to the latest in sexy underwear and do-me shoes. The shop tended to lean toward the risqué, but then Miss Jolie herself had defined the word back in her day.

  She was pushing seventy-six now, but way back when, she’d worked for the notorious Red Rose Farraday who’d owned and operated one of the most famous brothels in Texas history. Jolie had been one of her most popular girls. When the place had closed down, Jolie had moved to town and opened up shop. The citizens had snubbed her at first, but as the times had changed, so had everyone’s opinion of Rose and her girls.

  Miss Jolie’s had become the it place for the man-hunting Juliets, as well as every other woman in town looking to spice up her appearance.

  Old Stewart would probably break out in hives if he set foot inside Miss Jolie’s.

  His gaze went to the old woman who stood near the front of the store, near a large glass accessory case. He watched as she pulled out a rhinestone necklace and set it on the glass counter for the customer in front of her. Her gaze caught Mason’s and her face crinkled as she smiled at him.

  “You just let me know if y’all need anything,” she called out. “I’m always busy during the lunch hour, but I’ll be back there to help just as qui
ck as I can.”

  He grinned. “We’re fine.” There was that fine again.

  The bell rang and Miss Jolie turned her smile to the next customer who walked in, while Mason shifted his attention to a rack of tank tops. A camouflage pattern caught his eye and he pulled it free.

  “What about this?” Charlene’s voice drew him around.

  He turned to see her wearing a deep blue dress with a plunging neckline that went so low he expected to see her belly button peeking out at him. The material barely concealed her breasts, leaving a massive display of cleavage that made it hard to swallow. Blue outlined her hips and fell to midthigh, leaving a delicious expanse of bare legs that made his mouth water.

  Oddly enough, it wasn’t the scanty dress that stopped his heart in that next instant. It was the desire that sparked deep in her eyes when his gaze collided with hers.

  Heat fired in his groin and rolled through his body until he could barely breathe. He’d had chemistry with women before, but this gave new meaning to the word. It was more powerful and consuming than anything he’d ever felt, and it convinced him even more that he and Charlene should get together.

  She drew a deep breath, her chest lifted, her breasts trembled, and need knifed through him. The feeling cut him to the quick and it was all he could do not to cross the few feet of distance separating them, push her up against the nearest wall and plunge fast and sure into her hot body.

  And why not?

  Because she isn’t likely to assume the position, buddy. She doesn’t believe in lust, remember? She’s looking for a deeper, more meaningful connection. That’s what this whole transformation is all about. She wants to prove her theory once and for all.

  Or disprove it.

  The thought struck and suddenly Mason felt like the biggest ass in the world. Here he was lusting after her, wanting her and wishing that she wanted him, when all he really had to do was help her.

  Mason didn’t believe for two seconds that Stewart was Charlene’s soul mate. He had no doubt that the guy would run screaming the other way if he was faced with a drop-dead gorgeous, aggressive, daring woman. And when he did, Charlene would have to accept the truth—her theory was wrong. It wasn’t similar personalities that drew and kept a couple together for the long-term. It was the physical attraction.