The Lone Star Groom: Bachelor Billionaire Romances

by Taylor Hart

  “It’s just easier this way? For you to do all the work?”

  He looked at her again and noted her teasing tone. “Well, someone’s gotta cook.”

  She shrugged. “You could hire an assistant. A lot of people in your situation do. Or you could order in.”

  He scrunched his nose and finished putting together two simple salads. “Naw, got a cleaning lady that comes every other day and stocks the fridge. I’m good. Is that what Hale does? Hire it out?” His words had more of an edge to them than he had intended.

  She tried to play it off. “Uh, actually I have no idea.”

  “Hmm.” He hated how he already felt jealousy for this person who Liberty was on and off with.

  Taking her computer and opening it, she typed away. He knew he was suddenly an article again. “Tell me more about small town Texas life.”

  He put the salads on the table then swiped her laptop and moved it out of reach. “Okay, enough work for you today.”

  “But—”

  He swung around and put it on the counter and got another ice pack out of the freezer. “You haven’t had an ice pack for about an hour. Let’s get another one on there. It’s definitely looking smaller, so that makes me happy.” He went back to her and started wrapping up her ankle.

  The vegetables were sautéing on the stove, and the chicken was on the grill. He found himself liking the idea of sharing a meal with this woman.

  “Do you always do this, Texas?” Her voice had taken on a husky tone, and he turned to look up at her.

  “What do you mean?” He gently wrapped the ace bandage around her ankle a couple of times.

  When she didn’t answer, he finished and turned back to her, but she was giving him an inscrutable look.

  She shrugged. “You’re a handsome man, Texas.”

  The way she said it made it feel true. Not just flattery. For some stupid reason, he felt embarrassed. “Uh, thanks.” He moved to the sliding door and threw it open.

  Liberty laughed.

  Turning to her, he smiled and liked the fact she was laughing at him, but not in a rude way.

  “You don’t like this attention, do you? Which is funny, because you’re cocky, Texas Waters.”

  He couldn’t stop the full grin from spreading across his face and another blush at the way she said his full name. “Cocky,” he said, to cover his embarrassment. “I don’t know what about. According to some people I know, country music is hardly tasteful.” He winked at her and shut the door.

  He didn’t turn back to look at her until he got to the grill. When he did, she was still staring at him. It looked like she had her own blushing going on, and she had a big, smug smile on her face.

  After finishing, he got the chicken off the grill and took it inside, putting it next to her on the table. He was aware of her watching him while he finished the vegetables and rice and got plates and silverware for the table.

  After he put it next to her, she began arranging the plates and silverware. “This looks delicious, Texas.”

  Again, it made him happy she was here. Which was weird because he usually didn’t like interruptions in his “personal time.” He for sure didn’t want to share her with his band earlier. That was clear and was also interesting to him. Usually, he would be pawning off a reporter as soon as he could.

  After bringing everything over, he sat across from her because she had her foot propped up. He smiled. “This is nice.”

  “It is.” A small smile played at her lips.

  He didn’t know if she would be weird about it, but it was something he always did. He bowed his head. Glancing up at her, he saw her just stare back at him.

  He clasped his hands and grunted. “I say grace.” Delving into the small prayer, he finished and immediately put his napkin on his lap and started eating. He turned to her. “Eat.” He ordered.

  “You pray?” She looked curious again.

  Taking another forkful of food, he grunted. “Of course.”

  Not moving to eat, she asked. “Do you actually believe in a God? Practice religion?” Her tone was incredulous.

  Letting out a light laugh, he sat back in his chair, relaxing. “I grew up solid Christian. Went to a community church. But, really, I think I found God in a foxhole. Have you ever heard the quote, ‘There are no atheists in foxholes?’”

  She shook her head.

  Not wanting to think about all the metaphorical foxholes he’d been in during his Army experience, he sighed. “Well, all I know is I must be here for some reason only God knows.”

  Looking pensive, she took a bite of chicken, and her eyes widened. “This is delicious.”

  He shrugged.

  “Not the kind of guy who needs praise,” she said to him.

  He frowned. “What?” What was she talking about?

  “You don’t care if I like it or not,” she said.

  It was kind of true, but the food was good. She should like it. He gave her a look that suggested as much.

  She let out a light laugh. “Did you learn to cook from your mother?”

  A grin spread on his face. “You say it so Yankee-like.”

  “What?”

  “Mother.” He mimicked her. “It’s mama, and yeah, she taught me some things.”

  She smiled at his teasing. “Okay, tell me about your mama.” She said it the more Southern way.

  He grinned. “She’s the best. Everything a mom should be. Warm, hugged me way too much, and told me how good I was, even during the years I didn’t deserve it.” He shrugged a shoulder. “I guess I must have believed her.” He frowned.

  “What?”

  “What?”

  “What did you think that made you frown?”

  “Oh. I was just thinking it was a good thing she told me I was good because my daddy told me enough mean stuff for the both of them.” Why did he tell her that?

  Suddenly, she frowned. “Like what?”

  He shook his head. “Not article stuff.”

  She exhaled. “Off record.”

  He didn’t speak for a couple of minutes, but she drilled him with her eyes. “I don’t know, worthless piece of crap kind of stuff. Stuff some fathers say.” He said fathers in a very Yankee way.

  She still frowned.

  “Although,” he said, pointing his fork at her for a second and thinking back to the one good thing. “He did let me restore a car with him. A nineteen sixty-eight Cougar. It wasn’t that great, but he loved that car.” Texas smiled. “It was actually fun. We’d listen to classic rock, and he’d let me watch him. He’d actually teach me stuff without yelling at me.” Texas shook his head from side to side. “Ya know, I think you could put that in your article.”

  This seemed to make her happy. “Thank you. Something that’s not already on the Internet.”

  For a moment, she didn’t move. When he focused on her, she only smiled and picked up the napkin and put it in her lap.

  “You’re interesting,” he said to her, staring at those violet eyes and wondering what secrets lay inside of them.

  She stared back. “So are you.”

  Chapter 11

  Interesting was an understatement when describing Texas Waters. In fact, there really was no way to describe this man, Liberty surmised.

  Covertly, she tried to glance at him without seeming to as she ate. “This is wonderful,” she said honestly, appreciatively. Cooking had never been something she’d mastered. Growing up, they'd always had a cook. At college, for the first couple of years, she lived in her sorority house which had a cook. The last semester, she’d attempted cooking a couple of things, but admittedly, wasn’t good at it. Since she didn’t like putting in so much time to have it turn out wrong, she found a health food restaurant with lots of delicious take-home food in their deli. So she ended up eating healthier and lighter meals. Which resulted in losing twenty pounds.

  Texas nodded. “It’ll do.” The Southern way he said everything was, dang, it was just sexy.

  Their eyes
held for a couple of moments, and she found herself laughing.

  He laughed. “What?”

  There was all this chemistry in the air between them. It was kind of intoxicating.

  She took a bite and shrugged.

  He stuck his fork into the air at her, pointing at her. “No, what are you laughing about?”

  Taking a sip of water and then gently wiping her mouth, she felt her heart racing “I just … you’re not as bad boy country as they say you are.”

  A half-smile filled his face, and he grunted. “Are we back on this?”

  She couldn’t stop herself. Reluctantly, she admitted part of her curiosity about him was because of her reporter self, but the other part was for personal reasons she didn’t really understand herself.

  When he didn’t respond to her inquiry, she fell back on her Internet research. “Brantley Gilbert, Jon Bon Jovi, Eric Church.”

  Leaning back into his chair, Texas furrowed his brow “So what?”

  “They’ve all been alleged bad boys of country music too.”

  “Hey, they aren’t bad guys. I know most of them, but if you’re going to compare me, use bands like The Eagles, Zeppelin, Kansas, or Journey.” Picking up a bite of chicken, he chewed it slowly. “Good music is just good music. You can’t pigeonhole me, but if you do, at least, put me in the greats category.”

  Not really liking how he got when she was in reporter mode, she decided to relax.

  “Are you always a reporter?” He crossed his arms and gave her an accusing look.

  She knew it. He purposely shut off when he felt like she was interviewing him. “I only have a couple of days, remember? I’m feeling the pressure.”

  Letting out a soft laugh, he sat up and then leaned over his food, putting his elbows on the table—something her mother would find morally abhorrent and rude. “I kinda know the guy in charge of giving you the interview, so I could probably get some added time if you need it.” He gave her a seductive look.

  “Are you flirting with me again?” The words came out before she could stop them.

  A huge smile washed over his face. His steamy blue eyes bore into her soul with the power of Zeus from Olympia penetrating a mortal soul. “Is it doing any good?”

  Her heart fluttered, and she instantly didn’t want food at all. All she could think about was how it would feel to kiss him. She was startled at the way he seemed to be able to capture her with this chemistry between them and it unsettled her. “I’m—”

  “Not interested.” A ricocheting laugh came out of him, which embarrassed her even more. He stood and laughed harder, making her feel even more foolish. “You said you were on again, off again with that guy Hale.” He picked up her plate and utensils, hesitating behind her. “Which is it right now?”

  She felt his breath against the back of her neck where she’d pulled up her hair.

  She jerked and flinched away. “Texas!” What was he doing?

  That sent him into another round of laughter. He finished picking up the dishes and took them over to the kitchen, a huge grin on his face. “Dang, woman, you smell good.”

  It unnerved her he’d been smelling her. It unnerved her even more she’d just thought about kissing him.

  Starting to put the dishes into the sink to soak, he blazed a grin at her. “Calm down. I’m not putting my patented Texas Waters moves on you yet.”

  She knew her face was red. Bright red. One of the things she hated most about her light complexion was that it showed everything. Betrayed all of her emotions and insecurities. “The womanizing ones you mean. As quoted from Rolling Stone.”

  He laughed harder. “I’m not a womanizer.” He winked at her. “But I might be able to make an exception for you.” He was flirting again.

  “Stop.” Not able to handle his playfulness, she sucked in a breath and undid the wrap on her foot, moving her attention to her ankle and inspecting it. It was much better than last night.

  Much better.

  No longer a grapefruit, it looked more like there was a golf ball on the side of her foot. She thought she’d probably be able to balance on it tomorrow.

  “On again, off again,” he whispered then broke out into laughter. “Really, what does that even mean?”

  She only stared at him, leaving the ice off of her foot and wrapping up the ace bandage. She did not need these immature antics, she decided. Nor did she appreciate feeling like a jittery teenager around him. She would go to her room and spend the night absorbing everything she’d learned that day and putting it into her article.

  “Hey, where you going?” He shut the dishwasher and brought a rag over to the table to wipe it down, not hesitating to get close to her while he worked.

  Her insides were housing a million butterflies.

  He laughed, sounding like a teenager himself. “Dang, woman. You are prim and proper aren’t you?”

  Not feeling like she was prim and proper at all at the moment, she frowned at him. “What are you talking about?”

  He washed out the rag and then rung it out in the sink. The kitchen was spotless. She was impressed by him. She would have to mention his domesticity in the article.

  He stayed there. “You,”—he gestured to her—“I could spot the type you are the moment you showed up with your button-down shirt and hair all pulled back so neatly in your bun on the first day."

  Offended, she glared at him. “I’m not prim.” She gestured to herself, to the plain clothes and the way she’d braided her hair back.

  He smiled again. “Not since you fell off the ski lift.” There was mischief in his eyes.

  Unable to stop herself, she let out a laugh. “Whatever.”

  For a few moments they just stood there, staring into each other’s eyes. “Hey, you feeling up for a ride?”

  Remembering his morning ride, she didn’t know if he was talking about the horses. “No, a horse would jolt me too much.”

  Giving her a wide grin, he shook his head. “Not the horses. The bike.”

  A motorcycle? A motorcycle! Her mother had banned her from ever getting on a motorcycle.

  “I actually had an Uber guy take me to get it this morning from the resort. Want to get out of here for a bit?”

  If there was any unfulfilled teenage dream she did have, it was riding with a hot guy on a motorcycle, but she shook her head back and forth. “No.” Her voice squeaked out. “No, I shouldn’t with my foot.” Not to mention the fact she would be very close to him.

  Texas walked over to her to inspect her ankle. He took one of the ankle wraps she’d rolled up and undid it. “If we just stabilize it, you’ll be fine.” He started expertly wrapping it, tugging it so it was tight but not too tight. It felt much better than what she had done.

  She laughed, a bit intoxicated by the prospect of riding a motorcycle with him and the way he smelled. Maybe she was only noticing it because he had mentioned the way she smelled. She wasn’t sure. It was a bit like aftershave and vegetables sautéing, or smoky chicken from the grill. It smelled like man and home all rolled into one.

  His eyes met hers, as if sensing her wavering. “Are you coming or not, Ms. Wright?”

  The way he used her formal name made her smile. She told him the truth. “I’m not going to lie, I’ve always wanted to go on a motorcycle.”

  He narrowed his eyes and moved closer to her. “You’ve never been?”

  Caught, she shook her head, let out a nervous laugh, and turned away. “No.”

  “Then you’re going.” His hand was still on her ankle.

  She froze for a second and inhaled him, again.

  The way his eyes flashed to her and his hand stayed on her leg made her feel exposed. “Thank you.”

  He carefully held on to her leg. “What are you thinking about?”

  They were close. Kissable close.

  She could see every detail at this distance. For example, he had the perfect facial hair today. “You smell good.” She commanded herself not to turn away from him.
>
  “Oh yeah?" He didn’t move either, and she wondered if he would dip his head to kiss her. Her heart raced, and she couldn’t decide if she wanted him to or not.

  The reporter in her took over, and she pulled back. “I mean from a reporter’s perspective, you’re sexy. You know how to do about anything I can imagine you would want to do.” She began ticking them off. “Write music, play music, ride motorcycles, ride horses, assemble a gun, save a country.” She flashed him a grin. “I do know you’re not the bad boy of country music everyone calls you. I think they probably got the information from that time your ex-fiancée slapped you in public and it ended up on the cover of Enquirer.” She was rambling. “I think you’re definitely not a gentleman, definitely not that.” Her heart still pounded, and she didn’t know why she was saying all this. “I think you’re as dangerous as a keg of gunpowder and particularly dangerous to those closest to you because you’re fierce and fiery, and the ones closest to you get burnt sometimes.” She held up a finger when he looked offended. "But they don’t care because it’s worth it. All the other qualities you have make getting burnt part of the pull to you. It’s in your music too. That fire. It’s what you got the Purple Heart for.” Her heart hammered inside her chest, and she didn’t know if he was happy or sad because his face had gone completely blank. She held her ground.

  “You’re not afraid of getting burnt, Ms. Wright?”

  Every part of her felt on edge and electric energy pulsed through her. This man…ignited something inside of her.

  When she didn’t answer, his playfulness turned to anger. “Get yourself ready. We’re going for a ride.”

  Chapter 12

  Texas sped down the highway. The sun was setting, and the wind was blasting through his hair. He had on sunglasses, but hadn’t put on a helmet. He usually wore one, but he’d given his helmet to Liberty, and he wouldn’t make a fuss about it.