A Little Texas

“Yeah, she is,” Kate said, crossing her arms over her chest. “But they could give the camera a rest. Jeez.”

“Ready to go?” Rick stepped back to let her pass through the door he’d left open. The last day in January felt cool and rain-soaked.

“Yeah. You have the blindfold ready?” She shrugged into her coat and tugged the ties.

“Blindfold?”

“For the firing squad.”

He narrowed his eyes. They were nice eyes. Chocolaty-brown, but forceful all the same. Like they’d seen and endured much.

She shot him a brave smile and trotted down the steps toward the ’66 convertible Mustang parked in the curved drive. The car was salsa-red with a white top. A muscle car to match the intensity of the man walking behind her.

“I carry the blindfolds in my glove box,” Rick said, following her to the passenger door. He pushed a key into the lock, pulled the door open for her, then walked around to slip into the car beside her. His shoulder brushed hers as he pulled the modified seat belt over his chest and she got a whiff of him. He smelled clean. His short hair looked damp, as though he’d climbed from the shower only moments ago.

“So you are into kinky stuff. Nice.”

For a moment, the air ignited. Heat came off Rick in waves. He wanted her. She knew that. But what would he do about it?

“Damn straight,” he said, his accent low and dangerous. Kate’s stomach prickled. “But they’re only for the really bad girls. You’re not a bad girl, are you, Kate?”

Kate snorted. “I think you know the answer to that.”

His response was to rev the engine. But he wore a smile.

COTTONWOOD LOOMED IN FRONT of them like the dream of a nine-year-old girl. Its stately columns and fanciful curved front steps ignited visions of hooped dresses and shiny carriages. Kate had stood outside the gates before, peering through the cold bars where an intricate M was carved. She’d dreamed of walking down those stairs, lifting the edge of her wedding gown and stepping into a limousine.

Once she’d imagined herself crossing the trimmed lawn to her smiling father. Imagined him lifting her veil and giving her a gentle kiss. It was a kid’s dream. Utter make-believe.

She glanced at Rick as they approached the house. Even he seemed tense. His shoulders were bunched beneath the same jacket he’d worn yesterday and his jaw looked set. Rock hard. That image of Rick was both titillating and off-putting.

“Honey, I’m home.” Her voice sounded on edge to her own ears.

Rick glanced at her.

She gave him a shaky smile. “Too soon to call it home?”

At this his lips twitched. Something in his smile gave her comfort. She wanted to thank him for that, for offering her some solace in this moment she faced. That comfort shouldn’t have meant anything to her. Justus Mitchell had denied her once—it was entirely conceivable he’d do it again.

She had carried her hatred of him around with her because it had made her who she was. She didn’t take crap from anybody and she lived by her own rules. That was what Justus had given her. That and nothing else. But now she wanted money from him. Money that was way past due.

Rick pulled onto an odd patterned parking area adjacent to the house and cut the engine. “I’ll walk you in, then I’m running over to Phoenix. It’s not far. My grandmother will call me when you’re ready and I’ll pick you up.”

He was leaving her. For some reason, she didn’t want him to. Even though he worked for Justus, he felt like the only guy on her team.

Which was stupid.

He touched her on the shoulder. “Hey.”

She lifted her gaze to his, afraid he might see how much she wanted him to stay. He wasn’t smiling. He looked as intense as the first time she’d met him, but there was a tinge of softness now.

“You’re strong.”

His words wrapped round her, doing as he intended, strengthening her, bolstering the courage she’d felt she’d lost for a moment as they’d driven up the lane.

Kate closed her eyes, then she leaned over and kissed him.

Not a peck, like she was thanking him.

But a full-fledged kiss.