Tempted by a Texan

by Mindy Neff

  “Well, at least they don’t unless they’re drunk or their buddies have egged them on. You’re not drunk, and nobody’s daring you to pee out here in front of God and everybody. So don’t do it again. Got it?” Tink stood on his hind legs and put his front paws on Colby’s knee as if offering an apology.

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll let it slide this time, pal. Next time, either use the cat box or ask to go outside.” After locking all the doors to the store, he carried the tiny animal upstairs and locked the stairwell doors behind himself. Living in Hope Valley, Colby had gotten out of the habit of being security-conscious, but he’d made a point of resurrecting the habit since Sunday night’s break-in.

  When he entered the apartment, Becca was holding the sleek black cat, who took one look at the dog and hissed.

  “Now, Trouble. You be nice. Tinky’s had a hard life, and you’ve lived in the lap of luxury all of yours.” She looked up at Colby. “What now? Should we set them down?”

  “Guess it won’t hurt. They’ll either go to their corners or come out swinging. Might as well see what we’re in for.”

  Tinky, sensing he’d found a home at last, stopped shaking and instead began to quiver with happiness. Colby knelt and gently put him on the floor, ready to intervene should fur start to fly. Tink plopped down on his butt and stared at Becca. She bent down and let Trouble go.

  From there, things got totally out of hand. The cat shot off like a crazed maniac, practically bouncing off the walls and furniture, and the dog scrambled across the floor in a mad chase. Clearly hoping to get away from the creature invading his territory, Trouble leaped through the kitty door, bounded down the stairs and through the cut-out door at the bottom.

  Tinky followed, sounding as though he’d rolled down a good many of the steps.

  “Oh, no! My antiques!” Becca cried.

  “I’ll get him.” Colby took off after the animals, hollering both their names. Neither one had manners enough to stop or pay him any attention, and before he could get through the doors and get his hands on the quicker-than-lightning, yapping dog, the cat had climbed the drapes and knocked down the shade, a coffee cup Becca had left out had tipped off a spindly legged chair and shattered on the floor and a rack of greeting cards was leaning against the counter like a drunk bellied up to the bar.

  Trouble went into hiding, and Tink came to a sliding halt when confronted with a teddy bear that had fallen on the floor.

  God help them all. If anyone was still in the saddle shop next door, they’d be calling the sheriff for sure.

  Colby frowned as the little dog cowered on its belly and backed away from the stuffed animal.

  “Don’t tell me you’ll chase the cat all over hell and back, but you’re scared of a lifeless teddy bear!” He scooped up the dog and plopped it in the armchair. “Stay there so you don’t cut your feet.” Grabbing the broom, he swept up the broken coffee cup, tossed the debris into the trash can, then picked up the dog.

  He stared at the stuffed bear for a minute, then scooped it up, too. Tink trembled and tried to climb right up Colby’s neck.

  “Settle down, buddy.” He went back up the stairs, closed and locked the doors, tossed the teddy bear on the floor in front of the kitty door, then plunked Tink on the couch.

  “Is everything okay down there?” Becca asked.

  “Pretty much.”

  “It sounded like a war zone.”

  “Let’s just say the next few days ought to be interesting.”

  “Why’d you bring the teddy bear up here?”

  “The dog seems to be afraid of it. I’m hoping it’ll keep him from crossing the line and going back through the cat’s door. I caught him before he discovered the one leading out the back door to the alley, but it’s only a matter of time before Trouble shows him. So, we either lock the cat out—or we lock him in, or we’ll have both animals out roaming the streets.” Colby crossed the room and picked up Tink, then took him and showed him the cat door. Tink couldn’t concentrate on anything but the scary teddy bear lying right in front of the escape hatch.

  “No going out that door, okay, pal?”

  He set the dog down and it scrambled away, darting under the couch, where it huddled for a couple of minutes before peeking out.

  “Looks like we might get some rest, after all. Too bad the big bad teddy bear wasn’t on guard the other night when you had the break-in.” Which reminded him. He’d have to get that shade put back up tonight. He didn’t like the idea that anyone could walk by on the street and peer into Becca’s shop.

  Maybe a yappy dog wasn’t such a bad idea. The mutt might be scared of a teddy bear, but he’d earn his kibble if he would alert them to strangers on the premises

  9

  Colby had had such high hopes for his organizational skills, had thought for sure he could pass them along to Becca and make her life a bit easier. After all, they were older now, more mature. Surely she’d see the merits of doing things his way.

  Well, that was a pipe dream. Between the cat stealing from the neighbors, the dog yapping and chasing the cat and knocking over stuff, the customers who came in just to hang around instead of buying stuff, and Becca’s skewed view on things that totally opposed his, Colby was at his wit’s end.

  Each morning he started his day with good intentions and ended up feeling as though he’d been agitated in the washing machine, whirled through the dryer and, for added good measure, cranked through an old-fashioned clothes wringer.

  He doubted he resembled anything close to a high-powered corporate attorney. A partner, for crying out loud.

  He kicked the dryer door closed—not because he was irritated, but because his hands were filled with clean laundry. Good thing he wasn’t one of those bachelors who didn’t know how to do all this domestic stuff.

  As for Becca’s skills, now those were in serious question. She could cook, he’d give her that. Laundry, organizing and picking up after herself were whole other matters.

  He’d been at Becca’s almost a week. The sheriff didn’t have any leads on the break-in, and Colby still held the possibility in the back of his mind that the intruder might well return. He hoped to God he was wrong.

  If not, he hoped to God he’d be here to protect her. He couldn’t stay forever.

  Today they were going to get another set of X-rays on her hand and have her stitches checked. He could tell she was still in some pain, so he didn’t hold out hope that the doc was going to tell her she was well and free to kick up her heels.

  And for some reason, that made him feel better. Not that he wanted her in pain. But if she could do everything for herself, he would no longer be needed—meaning, he wouldn’t have an excuse to stay with her.

  Which was a double-edged sword for sure. He had no business wanting to stay. Yet he was like a man beating his head against the same brick wall, trying to pass through a restricted area where he certainly didn’t belong.

  In Becca Sue Ellsworth’s life.

  He rounded the corner into her bedroom and stopped dead in his tracks. The door to the bathroom was wide open and Becca stood in front of the mirror, examining the bruise on her side.

  She was wearing blue bikini underwear and a matching tank top, which she’d pulled clear up to the underside of her breast. The bruise that covered her from armpit to hipbone had turned ugly shades of green and purple.

  Colby clenched his teeth, willed his libido to settle. He wasn’t sure which was stronger—his anger that she’d been hurt, or his desire for this crazy, annoying, beautiful woman.

  “It’s a wonder the bastard didn’t break your ribs.”

  Becca shrieked and jerked down her top. “Colby! I’m in my underwear.”

  “I can see that.” He moved farther into the room. “If the pile of dirty clothes next to the washing machine is anything to go by, underwear is about the only thing you’ve got to wear.”

  She pulled a towel from the rack and held it in front of her.

  “Forget the modesty,
sugar pie. I think we’re past that.” He set the stack of clothes on the sink counter, unfolded a pair of capris and held them out. “Step in.”

  “I can do that myself.”

  “I imagine you can. But why spend half an hour and get all frustrated when I can have you in your clothes in just a couple of minutes?”

  Becca Sue nearly choked on a breath. Colby Flynn offering to put her in her clothes rather than taking her out of them took some getting used to.

  With her heart pounding and her cheeks flaming, she marched over to him and braced her good hand on his shoulder, then put first one foot, then the other into the pants legs. She could smell the shampoo in his hair as he bent in front of her, then straightened up, tugging her capris over her thighs. She gave a little shimmy to ease the material over her hips, and wondered if she’d gained weight with all this inactivity.

  “Did you dry these on the hot setting or something?” she asked.

  “Hush up, darlin’. Your body’s as dynamite as ever.”

  She sucked in her stomach as he reached his arms around her and pulled up the zipper at the back of her pants. She hadn’t been fishing for a compliment. But the one he’d so easily tossed out gave her a thrill.

  And so did his fingers as they lingered against the small of her back.

  She could feel his breath stir the hair at her temple. His knees bumped hers and all it would take was a tiny step and they’d be pressed together from toes to chest. Lord, she wanted to take that step.

  She looked up, met his hazel gaze.

  He winked. “I’m glad you took my advice and wore a tank top instead of a bra. That bruise on your side is nasty.” He stepped back and picked up a sleeveless, button-front shirt.

  Great. He knew darn well she couldn’t manage buttons.

  And why wasn’t he as hot and bothered by this dressing ritual as she was?

  She threaded her arms through the sleeve openings, then stood like a tin soldier as he buttoned the front, his knuckles brushing the inside swell of her small breasts through the thin material of her tank top. She could feel her nipples grow hard and was glad that the cotton shirt hid the sight from him.

  “We’ve got about twenty minutes before we have to leave for your doctor appointment. You going to make it?”

  She glanced in the mirror, saw that the ends of her hair had gotten wet in the bath. Other than that, she thought she looked okay. Was he seeing something she wasn’t?

  “Now that I’m properly clothed, I think I can manage it. Why? Have I forgotten something I’m supposed to do?”

  “Not that I know of. I just figured if you were going to do the makeup thing, you should get a move on.”

  “I’ve already done my makeup.” Granted, she’d used a light hand and she hadn’t put on any lip gloss, but did she look bad? “Are you saying I need more?”

  “No. Never mind.” He backed out of the bathroom. “I was just making conversation. I’ll go feed the animals.”

  Becca scrutinized herself in the mirror.

  Conversation, my foot.

  She checked just to make sure she’d applied mascara to both eyes, determined that she had, then swiped the lip-gloss wand over her lips and slid her feet into her sandals.

  She heard the cat and the dog strike up a fuss, and Colby’s voice right in the middle of things.

  She was starting to get too used to the sound of his voice in her home. And that was dangerous.

  They were right on time for her appointment, stopping by the radiology department for an X-ray before they made their way back to Dr. O’Rourke’s office and settled in the mauve colored cushioned chairs.

  “Are you sure I look okay?” Ever since his comment on her makeup, she’d felt out of sorts.

  “Sugar pie, if you looked any more enticing, I’d want to eat you up.”

  She jolted and tried not to put another connotation on that remark. “So, how come you said what you said about my makeup this morning?”

  “Man, I’m sorry I opened my mouth. I didn’t have sisters, so I’m not real tactful in that department.”

  “We lived together, Colby,” she reminded. “You’ve got some experience.”

  “Yes. And you wore more war paint on your face back then.”

  “Was that good or bad?”

  “Neither. You looked great. But I like the more wholesome, subtle look you have now.”

  “Wonderful. I’ve always wanted to look wholesome. Good old Becca Sue. The girl next door.”

  “Make that the girl across the street.”

  “Split hairs if you want. Wholesome is not going to get me the grand passion of my life that leads to family and happily-ever-after.”

  He shifted sideways, propped his arm on the back of her chair and toyed with the hair behind her ear.

  “Sugar pie, from a man’s point of view, wholesome is sexy. Especially packaged the way you are. You’ve no worries in that department.”

  What about with you? she wanted to ask. I don't see you jumping in with any offers. But just then, the nurse called her name.

  She stood, and Colby stood with her. At first she thought he was just being a gentleman. But when he followed her to the door leading to the examining rooms, she paused.

  “Um, I can do this by myself.”

  He shook his head and grinned. “Sorry, sugar pie. I don’t trust you to tell me the details.”

  “What if I have to get undressed?” she whispered, aware of the nurse several feet away, waiting patiently.

  “I’ll step outside or turn my back if it’ll make you feel better.”

  Unable to stall any longer, Becca turned and smiled at the nurse, then followed her to the treatment room, acting as though it was perfectly fine that Colby Flynn was trailing behind like an entitled husband or lover.

  They got the preliminaries out of the way: blood pressure—slightly elevated. Pulse rate—a bit fast.

  She’d already stated that she wasn’t pregnant and listed the date of her last menstrual period for the X-ray technicians, but had to go through it all over again with the nurse. Didn’t anybody talk to each other in doctor’s offices or share notes?

  When the nurse left, promising the doctor would be in momentarily, Becca glanced at Colby. He was slouched in a chair in the corner, grinning at her.

  “What?”

  “No need to blush like a schoolgirl. These are perfectly natural questions.”

  “Yeah, well you’re not exactly one of my girlfriends sitting there, you know. I find it unnatural to speak about such subjects with my ex-boyfriend present.

  “Hmm. I’ve been thinking of myself more in terms of a lady’s maid.” He grinned. “Ex-boyfriend does elevate me on the masculinity scale.”

  She was about to ask him what was with this masculinity thing all of a sudden—the man had no problems in that department—when Lily O’Rourke swung through the door. Her long, red-gold hair was swept up into a loose bun that looked soft and stylish, and set off her classically beautiful features.

  “Becca, my goodness, I heard about the break-in.” Lily laid aside the chart and hugged Becca, her professional gaze sweeping over each visible injury. “I’m sorry I wasn’t on call last Sunday. I did talk to the emergency doctor and he filled me in on the details.”

  “Don’t worry about it. I was treated really well.”

  Lily had been several years ahead of Becca in school, but as it was in small towns, everyone knew everyone else’s business and most were considered good friends. Lily was high on Becca’s list of friends.

  Lily glanced behind her and raised an eyebrow, clearly surprised by Colby’s presence, then reached out and shook his hand. “Hey, Colby. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

  “I’m staying with Becca Sue.”

  “On the couch,” Becca interjected, then shrugged when Lily glanced up from the chart.

  “Darlin’, I don’t think Dr. O’Rourke is judging us.”

  “Not as long as you’re not messing with Becca S
ue’s emotions, I’m not.” Lily said the words pleasantly enough, but there was an edge of warning.

  Colby felt that wolf-and-Red-Riding-Hood syndrome again. “I’m just helping out at the store and stuff. She’s a bit handicapped. And she’s not the easiest patient. Doesn’t want to take the pain meds, doesn’t want to wear the sling.”

  Lily laughed. “Okay. I like you. You can stay.” She took the latest set of X-rays over to a lighted box and flipped the switch. Colby joined her, staring at the injured bone.

  Becca, sitting on the examining table, wasn’t close enough to get a good look, but even if she had been, Colby and Lily were hogging all the space.

  She ought to be getting used to people acting like she wasn’t in the room. Sure, it was sweet of Colby to take such good care of her, to be worried about her, but that sort of behavior messed with her emotions.

  It made her yearn for an eternity of tomorrows.

  Made her forget that theirs was a no-strings-attached series of yesterdays.

  Dr. O’Rourke turned from the X-rays and spoke to Becca. “You’ve got good bones. This one’s already knitting back together, so I can’t see any reason to put a cast on. The splint is doing a fine job of keeping the hand and wrist immobile. Another couple of weeks and you should be able to go without even that.”

  “Cool. What about showering? I’ve been going over to Donetta’s to have my hair washed. Even in the bathtub, though, it’s such a pain trying not to get this thing wet.”

  Lily examined the stretch bandage that the X-ray tech had rewrapped around the splint. “You’ve done a really good job of keeping this clean. You should see how gross some of these look after a week.” She plucked some supplies from an overhead cabinet, then began to unwrap the bandage on Becca’s splint.

  “Colby’s made sure I haven’t lifted a finger so that it could get dirty.”