A Lawman in Her Stocking

“Whatever,” Abigail said, waving her hand. “You told me you had no interest in him.”

“I don’t.”

Abigail snorted. “Yeah, and the Grand Canyon is nothing but a big drainage ditch. Get real.”

“Dylan just gave me a ride home.” At her grandmother’s dubious expression, Brenna added, “He’s not my type.”

“Sure looked like he is.” Abigail laughed delightedly. “It takes some pretty heavy breathing to fog up windows that fast. And I don’t blame you one bit. That man’s the sexiest stud muffin I’ve seen come down the pike in a long time.”

When her grandmother began humming “Here Comes the Bride,” Brenna turned on her heel, walked into her bedroom and slammed the door. She sank down on the side of the bed, rummaged through the drawer of her nightstand and pulled the object of her search from inside. Peeling back the wrapper, she bit into the chocolate bar.

As the rich, smooth taste spread throughout her mouth, she sighed heavily. Life with her grandmother could be trying at best, but now that she’d met Dylan Chandler, it was going to be downright impossible.

Three

Dylan rested his chin on his palm and stared off into space. It had been four days since he’d agreed to take Brenna’s painting class. Four days since he’d taken her home. And four days that he’d been useless to himself and everyone else.

Oh, he’d gone through the motions of tending to business. But more times than he cared to count, he found himself staring off into space. Like now.

When he’d kissed her, he’d only meant to silence her. But he’d been the one at a loss for words when the kiss ended.

He shook his head as he turned his attention back to the papers on his desk. The last time he’d made the mistake of letting his hormones overrule his good sense he’d come out looking like a complete fool. He had no intention of letting anything like that happen again. And the best way to see that it didn’t would be to remove himself from temptation.

Next Tuesday night, instead of going to that damned painting class, he’d be over at Luke’s with the rest of the guys doing what they always did—playing poker in the back room.

His decision made, Dylan settled down to the paperwork in front of him. He’d only gotten as far as the middle of the first page when Myron Worthington rushed into his office and plopped his bulk into the chair in front of Dylan’s desk.