She was a pretty girl and he could sink into her dark brown eyes and drown—not exactly his usual type, but there was something about her he couldn’t get out of his head. He and Toby tended to go for the tall willowy blondes with blue eyes. It was Jud who liked petite brunettes. Blake didn’t like the thought of befriending Allie just to have Jud swoop in and steal her heart.
When the rain finally stopped, he carried an armload of flattened boxes out to his truck and threw them into the back. Later, when he figured out where his burn pile would be, he’d take care of them. He heard a vehicle coming down the lane and parking in the front yard and hoped that Allie had returned to tell him that the Logan Construction Company would fix the roof. He jogged through the kitchen and dining room, and threw open the door the minute she knocked.
A tall blonde holding a casserole dish smiled at him from the other side of the screen door. “Welcome to Dry Creek. I’m Sharlene Tucker.” She batted long lashes and tilted her head to one side.
He picked up on all the take-me-home-tonight signs and instinctively moved in to close the deal. “Come right in, darlin’. It’s shapin’ up to be a fine day when a pretty woman brings food to my door.”
A brighter smile and a definite extra wiggle under those skintight pants said that she was there for more than food and talk.
“Let me take that for you and then I’ll help you with your coat.” He lowered his voice an octave and whispered softly.
“I’ll just come in and put this in the refrigerator for you and be on my way. I work at the bank in Olney and I’m already a little late, but thank you for the offer. Maybe I’ll take a rain check.” That deliberate brush of her breasts across his chest as she walked by said that she’d be glad to come back around anytime.
“The church ladies will be coming around in a day or two with food, but I wanted to welcome you personally, Mr. Dawson.” She bent over to put the casserole on the bottom shelf of the fridge, giving him a perfect view of a rounded butt stretching the seams of her black pants.
She straightened, turned around, and tipped her head up, moistening her lips seductively. “Don’t you tell that I came a little early.” She tapped a manicured nail against his chin. “This is just to hold you over until they get here. Got to run. Call me if you need anything, Mr. Dawson.” A pen appeared out of her jacket pocket and she wrote her name and number on the outdated calendar. “We’ll have to see about getting you a new calendar. Bye now and enjoy the casserole.”
He followed her to the door and opened it for her. “Thank you so much for the food and I’m Blake, not Mr. Dawson.”
“Right nice to meet you, Blake. I’ll be waiting for you to call.”
Katy Logan popped her hands on her hips. That gesture usually brought her three girls to attention, but since Fiona was in Houston, only Lizzy and Allie sat up straighter in their chairs. “I heard the new cowboy next door is pretty damn handsome. Sure you’re not planning to do any more than fix his roof?”
Allie took down four plates from the cabinet, put the silverware in the top one, and started setting the table for breakfast. “For God’s sake, Mama. I’m not going to marry the man. I’m going to put a roof on his house and that’s it.”
Katy pushed her dark hair, with streaks of white starting to show, behind her ears. “Your grandmother said he looked at you like he could eat you up yesterday when you were over there.”
“Hell’s bells, Mama. Granny was so busy talking about Walter that she didn’t know who she was or where she was. And I smelled like pine oil and ammonia. I don’t think he wanted to bite into that. He just wanted to get me to say yes to helping him out. His kind isn’t interested in women like me.”
Her youngest sister, Lizzy, whipped her dishwater-blond hair up into a ponytail and went to the pantry to get several bottles of syrup. “This new guy sounds like a player. Why can’t you find a good decent man like my Mitch? He wouldn’t have to be a preacher but he needs to be a godly man.”
Allie rolled her eyes. “Yes, we all know Mitch is a paragon of men. But I had a man. A husband! I gave him my heart and he broke it. So no, thank you, not just to godly men but to any man. I’m going to the Lucky Penny to put a roof on the house, not have a fling,” Allie said.
Lizzy plopped the syrup on the table and went to the refrigerator for the butter dish. “If you go over to the Lucky Penny, you can bet you’ll be in the gossip spotlight even worse than when you left Riley. Besides every unmarried woman in Throckmorton County probably is layin’ out plans to get to know Brian. I heard that Sharlene was making a Mexican casserole to take to him. You know what that means.”
Allie popped Lizzy on the arm. “His name is Blake and I did not leave Riley. He left me and that was seven years ago. And yes, I know that Sharlene expects something hot in return for her hot Mexican casserole.”
“Mama, she hit me,” Lizzy said.
“I barely touched you,” Allie protested. Sisters might grow up in body but in spirit they stayed children. Some habits weren’t breakable, like Allie’s instinct to slap Lizzy for being a smartass.
“Don’t get all pissy with me,” Lizzy said. “I’m trying to make you see that this is a bad idea. You can’t stop gossip and it’s been a long dry spell in town for good rumors.”
Allie brought out butter and a bowl of fruit. “A roofing job will only last a week. What can happen in a week?”
“Stop your bickering. You know it upsets your grandmother.” Katy piled the pancakes on a platter, slathering each layer with the butter she had melted earlier. “Who did you say she kept calling the new guy? Walter? I remember some folks who lived there years ago and tried to make a go of that place. An elderly woman and her son. I think his name was Walter, but that was about the time I married your father so I didn’t pay a lot of attention in those days.”
“Maybe she knew him but was married to Grandpa at that time. I can’t see her falling in love with a man when she’d been married more than twenty years,” Allie said.
“She’s got it all mixed up. I bet she liked some guy from over there back when she was a young girl and her mama refused to let her get mixed up with him because she knew no one ever lasted over there,” Lizzy said.
Allie peeled paper towels off the roll to use for napkins. “I’m going to take this job. I don’t give a shit what people say. We’re lucky that the weather is going to be decent the next few days.”
“You’ll call Deke?” Katy sighed. “Promise me you’ll call Deke. At least you’ll have a chaperone as well as someone to help you. Maybe folks won’t talk so much that way.”
“I don’t need a chaperone, Mama. But I called Deke this morning and he’s free the rest of this week.” Allie nodded. “One of you will have to take Granny to work with you today so I can make a trip to Wichita Falls for supplies. If the weather holds we can get started today and have the job done by Friday.”
Lizzy pushed a strand of wayward hair behind her ears. “Mitch is supposed to come by today. You know how Granny hates him so you’d best take her today, Mama, and I’ll babysit tomorrow.”
“I still don’t like it,” Katy said. “That new man didn’t even come to church on Sunday. If he wanted to fit in with the community, he’d come to church.”
“He was settling in on Sunday, Mama, and his name is Blake,” Allie said.
“I hear Granny rustlin’ up the hallway. Best stop talkin’ about the Lucky Penny. Seems like that sets her off into a tizz.” Lizzy put a finger to her lips. “And, Allie, there ain’t no need to remember his name anyway. He won’t be here past spring. Besides, Brian could have come to church for one hour just to show the community that he is a God-fearin’ man.”
“Blake as in Blake Shelton, your favorite country singer,” Allie said.
“Okay, okay! I’ll remember. Why is it so damn important to you anyway? You said you weren’t going to marry him. Is he handsome?” Lizzy slapped a hand over her mouth. “He is, isn’t he? Mama, he’s sexy and she’s going to make
a fool out of herself again.”
“You cussed! Not very fitting for the future wife of a preacher. Mama, did you hear that?”
Katy gave her daughter a hard stare and sighed. “Really? What are you girls, five years old again?”
Lizzy shrugged. “Quit trying to change the subject and just answer my question. Is he sexy?”
Allie took a step closer to her sister. “You answer mine first. Why should he come to church?”
“Because that’s the first thing a respectable person should do when he moves to a new town. For all we know he’s going to run a brothel over there,” Lizzy answered.
Laughter exploded out of Allie. It bounced off the walls and echoed all the way through the two-story house. “That’s the pot calling the kettle black for sure. And darlin’, he is so damn sexy that my underpants crawled all the way to my ankles.”
Lizzy pulled out a chair and loaded her plate with pancakes. “Mama, she’s takin’ up for him and talkin’ dirty, too.”
“Don’t you worry none about Allie,” Katy said. “She’s learned her lesson.”
Lizzy smiled smugly. “At least I’ve got more sense than that. My Mitch is a man of God.”
“Well, bless your little heart,” Allie smarted off. “I’m happy for you, but even men of God have faults.”
“Not my Mitch,” Lizzy declared.
Irene poked her head around the corner and giggled. “I’ve been eavesdropping for a long time. In my opinion, it’s a bad idea for Allie to go to the Lucky Penny. That man is plumb deadly to women, and she can’t afford another broken heart. And, Lizzy, crawl down off that high horse. The Good Book is full of men who couldn’t keep it in their pants. Even David, the man after God’s own heart, had a problem along those lines.” She crossed the room and pulled out the fourth chair. “Pancakes. I do love pancakes.”
Chapter Four
Blake’s and Shooter’s breathing fogged up the cab window of the bulldozer that morning before the heater finally kicked in. The machinery was far from new and the heater worked sporadically, running a while and then shutting down until it was damn good and ready to start up again.
Shooter sat straight and tall in the passenger’s seat and listened to the music coming from the radio. At least the speakers worked better than the heater.
Blake hummed along to a Josh Turner song.
Shooter kept his eyes straight ahead, watching every mesquite tree that the dozer blade ripped out of the cold ground by the roots.
“You lookin’ for rabbits or squirrels to come out from those thickets?”
Shooter’s ears shot straight up.
Blake’s phone vibrated against his chest and he unzipped his coveralls enough to reach inside and fetch it. He glanced down and took a deep breath. This was it. Either Allie was calling to tell him that Logan Construction was taking the job or else he would have to learn how to shingle a roof.
He touched the screen and put the phone to his ear. “Hello.”
“Mr. Dawson, this is Allie Logan. We have decided that we can fix your roof. We’re going for supplies this morning after we run by and measure it. And we will probably start removing the old shingles this afternoon. Do you have a preference of shingle color? White is what you’ve got on there, but before we agree on a price, you have to understand that if I’m needed at home to take care of my grandmother, then I’ll have to work around that.”
“Whew! Slow down, Miz Logan! That pretty little mouth of yours was made for something other than talking too fast.”
“Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me. Do you still want me to fix that roof?”
“Yes, I do,” he said. “And I was stating a fact, not flattering you. Your lips are perfect and made for kissing.”
“I want to get supplies today and get to work so it can be done by the time the bad weather rolls in that the weatherman is calling for.”
He chuckled. “Thank you for that.”
“Now, shingles or metal roof?”
“Which is cheaper? I’m on a budget.” She was a tough nut to crack for sure. Usually those lines had a woman in his pocket for at least a night and maybe a whole weekend.
“Shingles.” One word. Her tone said business.
“Then that’s the route to take and I’m not particular about color. What would you suggest?” Blake asked.
“Are you going to repaint the outside in the spring when it’s warm enough?” she asked.
“Of course. The way the paint is peeling, it’s a wonder some of the boards aren’t rotted out,” Blake answered. “Thank goodness the lower half of the place is fieldstone.”
“What color?” Allie asked.
“The color of your eyes when the sun makes them sparkle.”
“Get serious, Blake Dawson!”
“Okay then. Light gray with white porch railings and trim work.” He wasn’t sure where the idea came from, maybe from that big two-story house painted gray with white trim he noticed as he drove through Throckmorton on his way to Dry Creek. “How do you see it?”
“That would be beautiful. How about a charcoal gray roof?” Allie asked.
Blake turned down the volume on the radio. “Sounds good to me.”
“Do you want to see samples? I could send pictures by phone.”
“Couldn’t you bring them by? We could decide together over a cup of coffee or a bowl of ice cream.” His voice went into its most seductive mode.
“Maybe you need to consult with your girlfriend?”
She was all business. Nothing was working. Holy smokin’ shit! Did the bad luck on this ranch turn his good luck with women upside down?
“That’s not necessary. Don’t have a girlfriend and don’t imagine my two partners give a damn what color the house is. Just pick out what you think would look good with light gray and bring it back with you. Do you need a check before you send your men after the supplies?”
“No, but I will want half this afternoon when we get there and the other half when the job is done, maybe by Friday evening, definitely by Saturday,” she answered.
“That sounds great.” Blake gave Shooter the thumbs-up sign.
“I’ll be over there by noon and we’ll get started removing those old white shingles and seeing how much damage control we need to do to the decking. Good-bye, Mr. Dawson,” Allie said stiffly.
He caught his smile in the rearview mirror. “Call me Blake. We are neighbors.”
“Thank you. You can call me Allie and is it convenient for me to drop by in an hour to do some measuring? You don’t have to be there. It’s all outside work,” Allie said.
“Whatever you need to do is fine and the back door is unlocked if you need to go inside the house.” Blake tucked the phone inside his denim jacket pocket and whistled through his teeth.
By noon there were two enormous piles of mesquite in the pasture ready to be cut up into firewood and/or burned. Blake felt like his butt had calluses on it from bouncing around in the dozer seat all morning. When he stepped down onto steady ground he did several stretches to get the kinks out of his back.
Shooter raced past him, put his nose to the ground, and flushed three rabbits before Blake could take two steps away from the machinery. Then the old dog was off and running, barking happily until the rabbits took refuge in a pile of dead mesquite and Shooter couldn’t figure out a way to get inside the tangled brush at them.
Blake caught up and scratched the old boy’s ears. “Don’t worry. They’ll have to come out sometime. Would you look at all that beautiful firewood? We’ll bring the chainsaw out here real soon and tear up their hiding places.”
The wind had gotten colder since he’d started work that morning. It was so cold that it burned his lungs when he took a breath so he pulled his coat collar up over his mouth and nose. Shooter backed his ears and took off for the house in a dead run. Blake did a fast trot right behind him, cleared the steps, and landed on the porch. He did not envy Allie and whoever she had working with her one bit. Working on
a roof with that cold wind whipping around them would be a real task.
He hadn’t even hung up his coat, when someone knocked on the door. He turned around, opened the door, and there on the other side was a curvy brunette with streaks of blue in her shoulder-length hair. It looked like someone had cut it with a chainsaw. Maybe that’s what happened and it had terrified her so badly that it turned part of her hair blue.
“You must be Blake Dawson. I’m Mary Jo Clark and I brought over some chili and a chocolate pie to welcome you to Dry Creek,” she said in a gravelly voice that matched her skinny jeans and form-fitting sweater.
“Well, thank you, Mary Jo Clark. I was about to fix myself a sandwich but chili does sound so much better,” he drawled in his most seductive voice.
“If you’ll bring those big strong arms and help me carry it in from the van, I would appreciate it.” She batted her eyes at him like a seasoned bar bunny.
He followed her to the van and she raised the back hatch. “You carry that slow cooker, darlin’, and I’ll get this box. My phone number is right here.” She pointed to the end of the cardboard box and there it was, written in three-inch numbers. “If you need anything at all, honey, you just give me a call and I’ll be here in five minutes.”
“You want to stick around and eat some of this with me?” he asked.
“Oh, darlin’, I would love to but I’ve got to be in Wichita Falls by one thirty. I work at the hair salon in Walmart and I’ve got the late shift today. But maybe on my next day off we can plan something.”
Yep, a seasoned bar bunny. He could spot one from a hundred yards and reel them in like a catfish out of the river. And by damn, Mary Jo was proof that he hadn’t lost all his luck with women. It was Allie Logan who couldn’t be swayed with his pickup lines, not the whole damn female population of Throckmorton County.
Wild Cowboy Ways Page 3
