The Texas Lawman's Woman. Cathy Thacker Gillen
Shelley’s sitter was available to watch Austin, and would stay until she got back from the bakery. By the time she got her son in his stroller and walked the short distance from the community center to her home, the sitter was already there.
With the two of them already playing happily, Shelley went upstairs to change out of her leotard and skirt, into a spaghetti-strapped sundress and flats. It was only when she walked out to the driveway that she realized she hadn’t taken care of the Prius’s flat tire yet.
But someone had.
She stared down at her car, perfect as could be.
And there was only one knight in shining armor who would have had the audacity to ignore her instructions to leave the flat tire be and fix it anyway. Steam practically coming out of her ears, Shelley drove her car halfway down the block, parked and got out. Sure enough, Colt McCabe’s pickup truck was sitting in the driveway, and his dog, Buddy, was lounging on the porch of his Craftsman-style charcoal-and-white home.
Aware she had just enough time to handle this without being late for her appointment at the bakery, she marched up to his front door. Buddy rose, tail wagging, as she rang the bell.
Colt answered. Decked out in a dark blue button-up shirt, neatly pressed jeans and brown dress boots, he looked ready for a date. He smelled incredible, too. Like sandalwood, soap and leather.
His gaze roved the floral fabric of her formfitting dress. Smile deepening, he returned his attention to her eyes. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise,” he drawled, holding open the storm door. “Come on in.”
Figuring it would be best not to have this conversation on the porch, where any of the neighbors could witness it, Shelley walked on in, Buddy on her heels. He brushed against her, clearly wanting to be petted.
Colt snapped his fingers and pointed at a thick corduroy pillow lying in front of the field stone fireplace. “Buddy. Cushion.”
Inside, his house was neat and clean. In the living room, a coordinating multicolored braided rug covered the wide plank floor. The upholstered sofa and comfortable club chairs were covered in a masculine dove-gray tweed fabric. Table lamps were formed out of a heavy dark bronze. A burnished mahogany coffee table, captain’s desk and end tables completed the decor.
Shelley supposed the casual elegance and pulled-together decorating scheme shouldn’t surprise her. Though Colt did his best to ignore it, he came from money, too. Lots of it.
Word was, his multimillionaire investor father and wildcatter mother had set up substantial trusts for all five of their sons that were, for the most part, ignored by their fiercely proud offspring.
He lifted his eyebrows and waited for her gaze to meet his. “What’s up?”
“Did you fix my flat tire?” Shelley demanded, indignation flushing her cheeks.
Colt’s eyes twinkled. “Why do I think if I say yes I’ll be shot at dawn?”
“Just answer the question.”
He rubbed the flat of his hand across his newly shaven jaw. “I might know something about that.”
“I told you not to do that.”
“Yeah, I know.” Heat emanating from his big, rugged frame, he shrugged and offered, “But I figured you had enough on your plate right now and took matters into my own hands...”
Shelley hung on to her patience by a thread. “What do I owe you then?”
“Nothing.” He gave her another long, slow once-over before returning his gaze ever so deliberately to her face. “I was being neighborly.”
Finding him too close for comfort, Shelley stepped back, bumping into an end table in the process. “Well, I can’t just accept it without giving you anything in return.”
“Because that would make you beholden to me.”
“Yes.” Shelley propped her hands on her hips. “And I don’t want to be.”
Colt’s expression changed. “You really want to help me out, too?”
Wasn’t that what she had just been saying? “Yes!”
He hooked a hand around her waist and tugged her forward so they were standing toe-to-toe. “Then do me one little favor,” he encouraged softly, his head slanting slowly downward, “and return this.”
Chapter Four
It was, Shelley realized, their first kiss in years. And yet it felt as if no time at all had elapsed. Colt still took command with no effort at all. He still tasted and felt the same, so strong and sure and masculine. He still turned her world upside down.
She had dreamed of this moment forever, even as she had warned herself that it would never happen. And the fact of the matter was, she thought, as she abruptly came to her senses and pushed him away, it shouldn’t be happening now. “Whoa there, Deputy!”
The look Colt gave her reminded her of the way he had always liked to end a fight—with a slow, hot kiss that left her barely able to stand on two feet, never mind recall what they had been disagreeing about.
He grinned at her, the way he had then, too—all lazy, confident male. “And here we were just getting to know each other again,” he teased, reaching out to caress her cheek.
Shelley moved away from him and released an indignant breath. “When it comes to the two of us, someone has to put on the brakes.”
Buddy lifted his head, curious.
“We’re not kids anymore, Shelley,” Colt reminded her.
“That’s right.” She ignored the dark, soulful eyes of his dog, the expression relaying to Shelley that his owner was a good guy.
“And as adults we should both know better,” she snapped, irked to find herself so vulnerable again.
She shouldn’t want Colt. Shouldn’t still be tingling from head to toe....
He gave her a once-over that left her all the more aroused. “You said you forgave me.”
Shelley drew in a long, bracing breath. “I said I wanted us to be friends.”
His blue eyes filled with merriment. “I can be friendly.”
His low sexy tone made her think of kisses that rocked her world. It was all Shelley could do not to groan out loud. “Not that kind of pal.”
“No bed buddies?”
Great, now she was thinking of him naked beneath the sheets. “No bed buddies. And,” she added emphatically, before he could go there, too, “no boyfriend-girlfriend, either.”
He chuckled. “I don’t recall asking you out on a date.”
She slid him a long look. “You did something even worse.”
He folded his arms and rocked back on his heels. “I can’t wait to hear what that might be.”
Shelley harrumphed. “You have inserted yourself in my life.”
He flashed a smile that sent another low, throbbing beat of anticipation rushing through her. “By fixing your tire.”
Shelley swallowed. “And making friends with my son, and having me make peace with Buddy...and heaven only knows what else.”
Hearing his name, Buddy rose and lumbered arthritically over to stand next to Shelley. He looked up, waiting to be petted.
Unable to resist the dog’s dark, liquid eyes, Shelley knelt beside him to stroke his head, taking comfort in Buddy’s soft, silky fur. “We can’t go back, Colt.” Briefly, she buried her face in the dog’s neck, and could have sworn that she almost felt Buddy “hug” her in return.
Colt ambled over. He petted Buddy, too, then took Shelley by the hand and brought