The Way to Texas

“Bye, Bubba,” Dawn said, finishing off the last of her coffee. She eyed the carafe, wondering if she should have a third cup or not. Something more to fortify her for a late afternoon appointment with a contractor who would want to show her blueprints and codes and whatever else contractors liked to talk about. But she didn’t need more, so she dropped the mug into the empty sink.

“Ready to meet with Tyson?” Nellie said, as she sank into one of the overstuffed chairs in the sitting area of the kitchen.

“I guess.” Dawn sighed, pressing a hand over the yawn that appeared from nowhere. “I still think we should put off construction. With the baby due in a couple of weeks, there’s too much going on.”

“The center can still function with ongoing construction. We need the room so we can meet the demand. We have a waiting list.”

“I hate you’re going through all this trouble. The rooms above us are perfectly functional. They need some refurbishment, that’s all.”

Nellie shifted in her chair. “We need a kitchen upstairs and an up-to-code bathroom. The rooms need to be gutted and converted to smaller rooms for resting. Now is the time. I know this is temporary for you, but eventually someone else will step in as the director and I want Tucker House to be fully operational.”

Dawn’s heart trembled at those words. She’d taken this job when she’d been forced to close the doors of her antiques redesign shop in Houston last spring. The damn economy had stomped her dream to dust, and with her son, Andrew, on partial baseball scholarship at the University of Houston, she needed money. Tucker House had opened for business a mere two months ago under her direction. She’d told Nellie she’d stay for a year, no more.

But she had no idea what she would do when the year was up. She’d leased her house in Houston to an oil and gas consultant whose rent covered her mortgage. But she had no leads on a job, no idea what she wanted to do. Didn’t know if she even wanted to go back to Houston. Currently she floated with no tangible future to grab on to. And she couldn’t stand not knowing what direction she should take. She needed a plan.

Nellie bit her lip. “Ouch.”

Dawn dropped all thoughts of her own problems. “You’re not in labor, are you?”

Nellie shook her head, causing a chunk of caramel-colored hair to fall from her hair clip. Her emerald eyes held unease. “I’ve still got two weeks left. Just a backache. I think.”

“Maybe we’d better call Jack.” Dawn reached for the cordless phone.

Her sister-in-law waved a hand. “Don’t bother him. I saw my OB yesterday. He said I’m on schedule for October 23.”

“I don’t know, Nell. Babies set their own schedule.” The doorbell rang interrupting her lecture.

Dawn’s gaze skittered to the clock. 5:25 p.m.

Tyson Hart wasn’t just prompt. He was early.

Nellie waved a hand at her. “Tyson’s here. Go let him in. I’ll be okay.”

Dawn wasn’t so sure, but the bell sounded again. “Fine. You sit and I’ll handle this. We’ll call Jack after I cancel the appointment with Mr. Hart.”

“Don’t cancel,” Nellie called as Dawn left the kitchen.

She walked through the living area, which was neat except for a deck of cards left on one of the small tables and a sudoku puzzle book on the other. In the media room someone had left the Wii on. Dawn made a mental list to make sure everything was turned off and put away before they left for the evening.

The doorbell sounded once more.

Dawn released a pent-up breath and pulled open the door.

No one was there.

For a minute, she was confused. Then she looked down. Hunter Todd.

“Hey, is Nellie here? She said she bought me some of those ice cream bars with sprinkles.”

“Ice cream with sprinkles?” Normally Dawn loved having the irascible six-year-old who lived next door visit, but she didn’t feel like entertaining him today. “I don’t know, Hunter Todd. Nellie’s not feeling well, and I’m waiting on someone, so—”

“That’s okay. I know where she keeps ’em.” Hunter Todd shoved his pudgy little body between her and the door, slipping inside quicker than a cat with a dog on its paws.

“Hunter Todd, please, honey. It’s not a good day for a visit.” Her plea went unanswered. She leaned her head against the door and closed her eyes.

“Bad day?”

Dawn jumped about a foot. “Oh, my God!”

She turned and met another dancing pair of eyes. These were the color of amber glass. Or sparkling brown topaz. Or aged honey. And they were attached to the most compelling man Dawn had seen in ages.

He filled the doorway and everything about him reminded her of warmth. From his ruffled sun-streaked brown hair to his lime-green-and-black running shoes. A smile curved his lips, lips that made her think of things she was supposed to have put behind her. At once it struck her—this man was dangerous in that golden retriever, scratch behind the ears sort of way. He looked affable and harmless. Like a woman could take him home. But Dawn had been bitten not once, but twice. She wasn’t picking up his leash.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to scare you,” he said, stretching out an arm. “I’m Tyson Hart, and I think this is where I am supposed to be.”

Dawn met his hand with hers. His grip warmed her to her toes and made her feel like a gangly teenager. “Hi. Dawn Taggart, the director. Nellie’s sister-in-law.”

“Nice to meet you, Dawn.”

For a moment, she stood there stupidly, her hand still in his. Then she came to her senses and pulled it away.

“Well, come on in.”

Tyson stepped inside the foyer as Nellie waddled around the corner with Hunter Todd on her heels. The six-year-old held a huge ice cream bar, which didn’t prevent him from lifting the cover of the antique piano in the parlor and plinking a few keys. Sprinkles from the treat fell to the polished floor.

“Tyson,” Nellie said, a warm smile curving her lips.

“Nellie,” Tyson replied, his voice as smooth as Scotch and likely just as addictive. “So good to see you again. It’s been ages.”

Dawn tore her eyes from Hunter Todd and his shedding ice cream and looked at Tyson, which in itself was a treat. The man was abnormally good looking in a not so obvious way. More of a rugged, cigarette ad way. Careful, her mind said, crushing what her libido said, which was something like, wrap your legs around that.

Nellie rubbed her back. Another grimace moved across her face. “I’m so glad you’re back in Oak Stand. And you’re perfect for this job. Quick. Good. And available.”

Tyson grinned and little crinkles appeared at the corners of his incredible eyes. “I bet you say that to all the contractors you meet.”

He winked at Dawn and she couldn’t stop the silly blush she felt burn her cheeks. Damn. He was everything she needed to stay away from. Good-looking men were like her personal crack—a dangerous addiction that left her strung out and broken.

Nellie laughed then winced. “Sorry, guys, but I’m going to have to sit this construction talk out. Go on up and check out the space. Hunter Todd said he’d swing me on the porch swing.”

At the sound of his name, Hunter Todd banged the lid on the piano and took off, circling Nellie and making weird noises. She bit her bottom lip and closed her eyes.

Even Tyson looked concerned.

“I don’t think I better leave you right now.” Dawn ran her damp palms down the sides of her khaki crop pants. A strange sense of foreboding welled within her, and Hunter Todd pretending to be a screeching jumbo jet wasn’t helping matters. She pushed her hair over her shoulders and turned to Tyson.

“Mr. Hart, I know you drove all this way, but I’m not sure this is a good time to meet.”

Tyson opened his mouth to speak, but Hunter Todd took that moment to shove past them. A trail of ice cream followed him as he circled her and Tyson.