by Carly Bloom
“Call me Travis.”
She risked a glance at the gigantic lumberjack sucking up all the air in the room with his chiseled pecs. Big mistake. “Okay—Travis. Whatever. Anyway…” What had she been saying?
“It’s too late,” Anna said. “It’s been decided. You’re going to work on this project together, and if one of you refuses, you’ll be replaced.”
Replaced? Oh, hell no. Good sense finally overcame the pheromones leaking out of the gigolo lawn boy. “There’s one—one—landscape architect in town. And it’s me.”
“There’s plenty in Austin,” Anna said.
“They’re more expensive, though.”
Anna shrugged her shoulders and grabbed Travis’s arm, leaning in and displacing her boob again. Someone should shield poor little Henry’s eyes—she glanced around—wherever he was.
“He’s not going anywhere,” Anna said.
Travis was Annabelle’s man candy. To his credit, he appeared somewhat mortified. What little skin she could see through his beard was flaming red, and his delicious full lips—stop it, Mackey!—were not smiling.
He pulled away from Anna and folded his arms across his bare chest. “I better go find Henry,” he said.
Annabelle smiled at him sweetly. “Run along then.”
Travis hesitated, as if he had something to say. But he apparently thought better of it. He nodded at Maggie before heading out in search of Henry.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that,” Annabelle said.
Maggie tried to adjust her snarl into a more pleasant expression. “Like what?”
“It’s not what you’re thinking,” Anna continued. “I’m just trying to help him out. I mean, good Lord, he’s a pathetic case. No education, living in that trashy house at Happy Trails, and now he’s inherited a kid that belongs to his prison inmate brother.”
Wow. When she put it that way…
She looked through the French doors to where Travis squatted next to Henry, who was poking at an ant mound with a stick. Henry squealed, dropped the stick, and slapped at his hand. Travis brought the little fingers to his bearded face and delivered a quick kiss to make it better.
More than just man candy, then.
* * *
Henry had just learned his lesson about poking at a fire ant mound. Travis had already kissed his knuckles—Henry had taught him all about magic kisses—and swatted another twenty or so ants off his little legs before the fuckers had a chance to bite again. Henry’s eyes were brimming, but he wasn’t wailing. Yet.
“Suck it up,” Travis said. Then he winced. That’s what his dad used to say to him. “Sorry,” he muttered. “You can cry if you want to.”
Henry sniffled but kept a lid on the waterworks.
Travis looked toward the house, where Anna stared at him through the window just like old times. It was clear that she’d awarded him the bid to relive her lawn boy fantasy from high school. That hadn’t ended well. Maybe he didn’t need this job that bad.
Except that he did need it that bad.
He swallowed his pride—it got stuck about halfway down but he powered through—and waved at Anna. She wanted a lawn boy? She had a lawn boy. He didn’t have to be happy about it, though.
He stood, brushed off his pants, and picked Henry up. “You ready to go home?”
Henry yawned in response.
Maggie came out. “Did you get attacked by some fire ants?” she asked Henry.
Henry nodded.
“Hurts like the dickens, doesn’t it?”
Maggie mussed Henry’s hair but didn’t look Travis in the eye. “Can you be here at nine on Monday? We’ll start clearing out the rocks behind the patio.”
“Make it seven,” he said. His voice was brusque. “An earlier start is better for me.”
So much for being the Big Bad Wolf. He was Anna’s goddamn lawn boy.
He loaded Henry into the car seat and climbed behind the wheel, yanking his phone out of his back pocket. Little Red Riding Hood’s texts stared up at him. A sly grin crept across his face. Maybe he couldn’t get the upper hand with Maggie Mackey, but he knew who could.
Her last text had asked him if he was married. He’d start there.
Not married. I’m a Lone Wolf. Sure you’re not afraid?
Chapter Eleven
Maggie jerked awake and slammed her hand on Darth Vader’s head to silence the “Imperial March” alarm. She’d bought herself ten more minutes. Pop recognized the beginning of the snooze loop and settled in at her hip with a satisfied grunt.
Maggie sank back into the blissful abyss. She’d been dreaming about a snake.
A snake tattoo! Today was her first day on the job with Travis Blake. Forget the snooze. She threw the covers off. Pop cocked an ear, looking offended.
“We’ve got to get up. That jerk insisted on seven o’clock and I’ll be damned if he’s going to get there first.” She swung her legs over the side of the bed. The floor was cold, and she headed for her robe and slippers. No point in cranking up the ancient gas wall heater she always half expected to explode. It was supposed to hit the upper eighties by early afternoon. Such was life in central Texas.
She shuffled into the kitchen and unlocked Pop’s doggie door. You couldn’t live in the country and leave a doggie door unlocked at night. Not unless you wanted a skunk in your house. Pop shot through and disappeared into the early morning fog.
She rinsed out the stovetop percolator and filled it with grinds. She should probably buy a coffeepot like a normal person, but the percolator had belonged to Honey. She hadn’t done much to the cottage since Honey died, and she had a half-baked idea to turn it into a vacation rental. It was originally built in 1901 by German settlers, and Maggie had been approached by several people wanting to buy it. Since she wanted to keep the cottage in the family but didn’t necessarily want to continue living in it herself, turning it into a weekend rental was the perfect solution.
She turned on the gas burner. The wolf had responded to her texts on Friday—finally! And it had been a fun exchange. She didn’t know what she’d expected, maybe a little innocent back and forth, but they were dirty texting. She couldn’t wait to tell Claire.
She looked at the texts again.
Not married. I’m a Lone Wolf. Sure you’re not afraid?
I’ve already followed you through the woods. Seen you at your wildest.
What makes you think that was my wildest? Wear sexy panties to work tomorrow.
The wolf wanted to play games. Maggie wasn’t sure she’d be very good at it, but last night she’d set out a pair of red lacy panties.
Pop bolted back through the doggie door and skidded to a stop in front of his empty bowl. Maggie dumped a little kibble in it.
She wasn’t looking forward to working with Travis Blake. He wasn’t qualified. He didn’t deserve his half of the contract. He was getting by on his looks, while Maggie had to work hard to get what she wanted. Her entire life had been a struggle to prove she was tough enough, big enough, and smart enough to compete with the boys.
She headed to the bathroom to get dressed. The red lacy panties were on top of her work clothes. The Big Bad Wolf probably thought she wore sexy lingerie all the time. As far as he knew, she worked in an office. She tried to imagine herself in a pencil skirt and heels and couldn’t. But thanks to a gag gift she’d taken home from Lou Stewart’s bachelor party (because of course she’d been invited to a bachelor party) she did have those panties.
She picked them up, biting her lip. She’d never worn them. Not exactly her style. But she yanked the tag off and slipped them on, feeling a bit like Little Red Riding Hood. She grabbed a stretchy sports bra, but it ruined the mood. As did the white utilitarian one from Walmart.
Forget it. She didn’t need a bra.
Instead of her work clothes, she grabbed a cinnamon-colored long-sleeved T-shirt with a scoop neck and a black sweater. Black jeans and boots completed the ensemble, and three minutes later a toothbrush and toothpaste had completed her
morning beauty routine. She ran her fingers through her short hair and was done.
The coffee was finally ready. She poured it into her PETAL PUSHERS—WE’RE DIGGIN’ IT travel mug, grabbed her bag, and followed Pop to the Jeep. It was forty minutes after six when they headed down the bumpy dirt lane that led to Peacock Road.
Dang it. The cows were in her apple orchard. She slammed on the brakes and honked the horn. Two of the cows looked up, apples in their dumb mouths. Maggie rolled down the window. “Shoo! Go home! Get back on your stupid happy trail to Blake land!”
Pop, excited by the shouting, flung himself out the window. Before Maggie could get the door open, he was running circles around the cows, nipping at their hooves.
“Stop it, Pop!” The cows were getting jittery, and Pop was going to get kicked or stepped on.
Pop did not stop. Focused on the biggest cow, he darted in and out of her hooves, growling and yapping, until he managed to sink his sharp little teeth into a leg.
The cow did not appreciate it. She dropped the apple and ran. The rest followed suit, and Maggie jumped back in the Jeep to avoid being crushed in a stampede, which would be a stupid way to die. And the worst part was, the damn things were running in the wrong direction.
* * *
Travis pulled up to the construction site, noting the absence of a certain yellow Jeep with extreme satisfaction. He’d figured Miss Mary Margaret for an early bird. Maybe he’d been wrong.
He wondered if she knew her grandmother regularly left threatening notes on his gate. Yesterday’s had been, YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD LOOK GOOD IN MY LIVING ROOM? TEN COWHIDE RUGS.
JD’s truck was here. He’d been one of the few kids to be kind to Travis when he’d been an outsider in a town where most other kids absolutely knew they belonged. Their families’ names were plastered all over the town. KOWALSKI FEED AND SEED, MACKEY DRUGS, MAYES CARPENTRY AND CONSTRUCTION. The same names over and over, linking aunts, uncles, grandparents, and cousins. There was only one Blake family, and they were known for gambling debts, theft, and, thanks to Scott, drug smuggling.
And not paying property taxes. Couldn’t forget that one.
Travis hadn’t known how to find his place in the community, and his family’s antics hadn’t helped. He’d been a loner by necessity.
But the Mayes family had been kind. JD’s dad had never failed to shake Travis’s hand and ask him how he was doing when most adults acted like he was invisible or eyed him warily. And his mom had been nice, too.
Travis opened the console in his truck and dug through yesterday’s mail and Henry’s stash of snacks to find his work gloves. Yesterday’s mail…He pulled out two envelopes. One was alarming—unopened letter from the tax office—and the other was depressing—his bank statement. He sighed heavily and crammed them both back into the console. Then he climbed out of his truck, stuffed his gloves into his back pocket, and gathered the tools he’d need: wheel barrel, pickax, shovel, and hoe. There was nothing glamorous about digging up rocks.
He wheeled the tools around to the back of the house. Little Red Riding Hood hadn’t marked anything off yet, so he wasn’t sure where he should start. He looked through the French doors and saw JD on a ladder, hammering away on some molding.
He went inside. “You’re here awful early.”
JD missed a nail. “Dammit,” he muttered.
“Sorry.”
“No problem. And Annabelle wants to move in like yesterday, so I’m not early enough.”
Travis nodded. “Nice house.”
“Divorce settlement. You remember Jim Henderson? His dad had the Chevy dealership on the highway.”
“Obnoxious kid who wrecked a Corvette on his sixteenth birthday?”
“That’s the one. Three years ago, he wrecked his life by marrying Anna. I kind of thought they were perfect for each other.”
Anna was on the rebound. Great.
JD went back to hammering. “What’d you do after high school?” he asked.
“Oilfields, mostly. Then the Army.”
JD stopped hammering. “Were you deployed?”
“Afghanistan.”
JD set the hammer down on the top of the ladder, and then made a motion to tip his hat, realizing too late that it wasn’t on his head. He grinned in embarrassment—being without his Stetson probably felt like being completely naked—and said, “Thank you for your service, Travis. You should have had a hero’s homecoming here in Big Verde.”
Travis didn’t know what to say. He was no hero. He’d met some real heroes, and he didn’t like being elevated to a pedestal that he didn’t deserve to approach, much less stand on. “I didn’t see combat.”
“Doesn’t matter. You signed up. You went. Most people don’t.”
Travis waved him off and pretended to admire the molding.
“When did you get out?” JD asked, picking up the hammer and sticking a couple of nails in his mouth.
“Just before coming to Big Verde.”
JD lined his hammer up with a small nail. “Well, welcome home,” he mumbled, careful not to spit nails. “Glad you’re back.”
Travis swallowed. Welcome home. Big Verde had never felt like home. It had felt more like an unkept promise.
“It’s so sad about Lisa,” JD said. “Mrs. Garza says you’re really good with Henry.”
And there it was. That uncomfortable feeling when you realized everyone in town had been talking about you. Another aspect of small-town life he could never get used to. And he didn’t think he was all that good with Henry. But he was better than Scott would be, and he was starting to get a little worried about it. He shrugged his shoulders—a gesture JD probably mistook for modesty.
“I hear the ranch is looking good,” JD said.
Was JD out of his mind? “Where’d you hear that?”
“Gerome Kowalski says you’ve got the herd separated, fixed some fences…”
Gerome Kowalski had been talking about Happy Trails? More gossip. Travis felt sick at his stomach. The enormous Rancho Canada Verde bordered Happy Trails on its western fence line, and with its pristine, perfectly maintained fences, manicured pastures, and award-winning Black Angus herd, it was the gem of the Texas Hill Country, and it made Happy Trails seem all the more pathetic.
“I’ve patched the fences in several places, but they need replacing. And I’ve managed to get the heifers and young bulls separated, but that’s about it. The herd needs to be thinned out.”
“Nothing that can’t be done with a little help,” JD said.
“I just need to get it in good enough shape to sell. I’ve got a job waiting for me in Austin.”
JD’s mouth hung open and three nails slipped out, bouncing off his boots. “You’re selling Happy Trails? What about Henry?”
“I’m not real sure. There’s a social worker looking into the possibility of other relatives and whatnot,” Travis said, stuttering just a bit.
JD furrowed his brow. Reached for his nonexistent hat. And then he changed the subject, for which Travis was grateful. “I’m going to Tony’s with Bubba and a few of the guys to watch the first Spurs game of the season tonight. You want to come?”
“Sorry, but I’ve already got some plans.”
JD looked down at him like he didn’t believe him. “Maggie will probably be there.”
Travis’s head snapped up in a completely involuntary gesture. He tried to cover it up by swatting an imaginary gnat. “So?”
“I realize she can be intimidating.”
Intimidating? That tiny little thing? “I don’t find her intimidating at all.”
And I know just how to make her behave herself.
“You’re a rare man then,” JD said with a grin. “Anyway, I saw the way you were looking at her.”
“What way was that?”
“Like she was a piece of cake and you hadn’t eaten in three years.”
“I think you’re mistaken.”
“And she was looking at you the same way.”
&
nbsp; “I know you’re mistaken.”
Whatever it was that was going on between Little Red Riding Hood and JD, it wasn’t of a romantic nature. Because it sure as hell felt like JD was trying to fix him up.
JD set his hammer down and picked up a thermos. “If your plans change, you know where to find us. We’ll keep a stool warm for you.”
Although Travis appreciated the invitation, Tony’s was one place he hoped to avoid. His dad had spent too much time there. Besides, he really did have plans. “I promised Alice I’d build a gazebo in the children’s reading garden. Alice is the librarian,” he added. “She reads to Henry at story time every week, and I couldn’t turn her down.”
“I’ve known Alice all my life.”
Of course JD knew Alice. Everyone knew everyone in Big Verde. He wouldn’t be surprised if Alice was JD’s cousin or if maybe her granddaddy had married JD’s great-aunt on his mother’s father’s side. That’s how all the introductions went in Big Verde. You know Sally…she married that nephew of Bob’s down at Bippo’s Shop…his mama was a Polinski…and so on, and so on.
“Alice’s uncle married my Aunt Fran,” JD started. Then he grinned and reached for his missing Stetson again, cheeks turning pink as he realized the pattern he’d fallen into. “Sorry. You don’t need to know all that. Anyway, I wasn’t aware Alice needed help at the library. Maybe Bubba and I will sacrifice our barstools tonight and come by to help out.”
This was another small-town phenomenon. Folks dropping everything to help out.
“Really?” Travis asked. Alice had already recruited some local teens for the project, but it sure would go a shit-ton faster with JD and Bubba on-site.
“Sure,” JD said. “It’ll be fun. And maybe we’ll get done in time to catch the second half of the game.”
A car door slammed. It was followed by the excited yaps of a little dog.
“Look,” JD said, pointing out the window. “There’s that woman who doesn’t intimidate you.”
Travis looked, but as he watched Maggie head his way, no amount of bracing could prepare him for what his heart did next, which was damn near grind to a stop.
