Men to Trust: Boss Man / The Last Good Man in Texas / Lonetree Ranchers: Brant

“I like the cats, too. In spite of everything,” she added. “It’s only a scratch.”

He glowered toward the doorway, where Yow was looking in again. Mee was still twirling around Violet’s ankles. “We’ll have to work on Yow’s social skills. Maybe she lacks proper company. I might buy her a dog.”

“You wouldn’t!” Violet exclaimed, laughing.

He gave her a wicked look. “A big, ugly dog with a bad attitude,” he added.

“You’d turn up in court as a defendant.”

“Not unless Yow can afford legal representation,” he assured her.

She laughed. It was amazing how carefree she felt with him, a man who’d intimidated her from their very first meeting when she’d worked for him. He was another man entirely away from the office.

“Well, there’s still cake,” he pointed out. “We’d better get it while we can, before Yow tries again.”

“What kind is it?” she asked as she seated herself at the table again.

“Pound cake. It’s the only cake I can do myself.”

“My favorite kind, too. I can make a layer cake, but I like these better.”

He put a slice on a plate, and a fork, in front of her. “More coffee?”

“Please,” she replied.

He poured more coffee and they settled down with their cake, but she noticed that Blake kept a careful eye on the doorway in case Yow made another appearance.

He wouldn’t let her help with the dishes, insisting that he could do them later. Instead, he walked her out onto the porch and settled her beside him in the porch swing.

“I love this,” she said. “We used to have a porch swing, before we lost everything,” she mused. “I loved sitting in it, especially in the spring and summer. We had a big yard with pecan trees and a mesquite tree, and Mama had a flower garden, very much like yours.”

He slid his arm behind her head and curled his long fingers comfortably into her hair. “It must be hard for both of you.”

“We’re getting by,” she said softly. “I don’t really mind. I’m just sorry about Daddy, and how he died.” She looked up at him. “You haven’t heard anything about the autopsy yet?”

“Maybe next week,” he replied. “I’ll tell you the minute I know for sure. Then we’ll both break it to your mother.”

“That’s very kind of you,” she said.

He bent and touched his lips to her forehead. “I’m a kind man,” he murmured, laughing softly. “I don’t even kick cats when they deserve it.”

She smiled back, leaning closer. She loved being near him, feeling his breath on her face, his fingers in her hair.

Blake was amazed at how receptive she was to his advances, how hungrily she met them. He hadn’t analyzed his feelings for Violet. He wasn’t going to. Not yet. But she kindled fires in his blood that he hadn’t felt since Shannon Culbertson’s death.

Shannon. His eyes grew dark and quiet as he stared over Violet’s head and memories flooded in on him. He’d loved her. He’d given his heart completely, recklessly, without any thought for the future. Shannon had died, and his life had shattered overnight. He remembered that headlong passion with faint apprehension. It was dangerous to love. Very dangerous.

Violet didn’t know what he was thinking, but she felt a sudden remoteness from him. She noticed that he was staring into space, thinking. Perhaps he was having second thoughts about the direction their relationship was taking. Was he sorry that he’d kissed her?

He felt her intent stare. He turned his head and looked down into her eyes, searching them slowly. The look was more intimate than a kiss. His body began to swell from the intensity of it.

“Is something wrong?” she asked after a minute.

His fingers touched her chin, drawing it up. “I have cold feet.”

“I don’t understand.”

He drew in a long breath. “It’s too quick, Violet,” he murmured, looking at her. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

“For feeding me trout?” she asked, wide-eyed.

He shook his head. “No. For…this.”

He bent and kissed her, very gently. He lifted his head. “I like kissing you.”

She smiled slowly. “I like kissing you, too.”

“To what end?”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“I don’t want to get married,” he said bluntly.

She felt all at sea, confused and uncertain.

He stared down into her wide eyes. She looked miserable and he felt confused. “Forget it,” he murmured, dropping his stare to her soft eyes. “I’m just talking. I don’t even know what I’m talking about.”

“I know about her,” she blurted out.

He scowled. “Her?”

“Shannon Culbertson,” she said, averting her gaze to the budding rosebushes. “I’m sorry it happened like that. It must have been devastating for you.”

He couldn’t think of another single person he wouldn’t have cursed for mentioning her name. But it didn’t feel at all uncomfortable to discuss Shannon with Violet. She had a tender heart. He ached for comfort. He’d never had it.

“She was beautiful,” he replied. “Young and full of fun and promise. I loved her until she was an obsession. I didn’t think I could go on living when she died.”

“But you did,” she replied. “You’re stronger than you realize.”

“You have an odd effect on me,” he murmured.

“What sort?” she asked, studying him.

One shoulder lifted and fell. His eyes went back to the landscape as he rocked the swing lazily into motion. “I don’t talk about her. I haven’t in years.”

She sighed and rested her head on his shoulder, staring across his broad chest toward the distant highway. “You can’t bury the past,” she said absently. “It affects everything we do, everything we are.”

He frowned. “Did you lose someone?”