To Catch a Texas Cowboy (Wishing, Texas Book 2)

by Julie Benson

“How can this sweet girl be a problem?”

  For her comment she received another eyebrow crook. “You’d be surprised how much trouble she’s been.” AJ explained how he’d known the horse from his college days, and she’d grown more attached to him when he stayed at the ranch after first arriving in town. “When I moved, she quit eating, and started losing weight. Since she’ll eat for me, Ty asked me to take her for a while.”

  Oh, Lord. Good-looking, a sharp sense of humor, and cared for animals. If he weren’t a cop, he’d be almost perfect.

  “But Lu’s biggest problem is she’s an escape artist. No matter where I leave her, the barn, the corral, doesn’t matter. She keeps getting out. I’m hoping if she’s here I can keep a better eye on her.”

  Grace waved a hand around the property. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but there isn’t a barn here. Isn’t that kind of necessary?”

  “Think about wild horses,” AJ said. “They don’t need much other than a windbreak against the cold, and shade when it’s hot.”

  “That’s really all she needs?”

  He nodded. “I need to head back to work. I’ve left a message for Ty, but haven’t heard back.”

  She glanced at the horse. He wanted to leave a horse with a tendency to cause trouble with her? As if she’d know what to do if there was trouble. “Wait a minute. What about Lu? You can’t leave her here with me.”

  “She’ll be fine. Just give a look outside every once in a while to make sure she’s still here.”

  “This from the man who told me how much trouble she is?”

  He yanked off his cowboy hat, held it in front of him, and stepped toward her. His pleading gaze locked with hers, leaving him almost exposed emotionally. “I’ve got a mess of things to see to at work, and you can handle Lu. In fact, I bet five minutes with you, and she won’t cause me another moment of grief.”

  “That is such a load of crap.”

  He stuck his hat back on his head and shrugged. “I didn’t think it would work. You’re smart, and not much gets past you. But you can’t blame a guy for trying to work up a little sympathy when he’s between a rock and a hard place.”

  She tried to remain unmoved by his compliment, but between that and his boyish help-me-out gaze, her resolve melted. He should’ve tried the flattery first. “I’ll check on her, but I’m not cleaning up after her.”

  The next morning Grace staggered downstairs still wearing her why-can’t-morning-come-in-the-afternoon pajamas as she’d done every day she’d stayed at The Bluebonnet Inn. But this morning, the invigorating aroma of coffee hit her halfway to the kitchen. Expecting to find Cassie had arrived early, Grace said, “I’ll be your slave for life if you arrive early and make coffee every morning.”

  Cupboards thudded shut in rapid succession like machine gun fire.

  “Now that’s a deal I can’t refuse,” came the unexpected husky response.

  Grace froze. AJ. He’d moved in yesterday. Now she remembered. What was he doing in the kitchen? Cassie promised she wouldn’t run into him because he’d stay in the Carriage House. But here he was in the Main House’s kitchen the first morning. Her friend had some explaining to do later.

  Refusing to let him intimidate her, her only choice was to brazen her way through. Plastering a bright seeing-you-here-cowboy-doesn’t-bother-me-one-bit smile on her face, she waltzed into the kitchen. “I was expecting Cassie.”

  “Does this mean you’re taking back the slave for coffee statement?”

  You got that right, cowpoke. Instead, trying to ignore how incredible he looked, she said, “You’d have to make one amazing cup of coffee.”

  Tight-fitting jeans hugged his firm backside and a form-fitting T-shirt outlined his other assets as he reached into the cupboard by the stove. She concentrated on keeping her breathing level as she breezed past him to the long breakfast bar.

  “With an incentive like that, if you’re not happy with mine, I’d buy a fancy espresso machine, and hire a Starbucks barista to teach me the tricks of the trade.”

  His Texas drawl rippled through her. Talk about a sexy bedroom voice. The man had it down. The air sizzled around them, their energy bouncing off each other in some kind of oddly erotic dance. She’d like him to teach her a couple of tricks.

  Down girl.

  “If you did that, we’d have to discuss parameters as to what you had in mind for the deal.”

  What was with her? She shouldn’t be encouraging this Hepburn/Tracy banter. It would lead to trouble.

  He scrubbed the stubble on his chin with the back of his knuckles. “You heard what rough shape the place I’m renting is in. I’d start with painting and decorating help.”

  Her mouth fell open before she caught her surprise and snapped it shut. Okay, she hadn’t expected that response.

  Guys hit on her all the time, and had since she’d developed breasts in fourth grade. Her mom claimed she’d been pretty since the day she was born, and loved to tell how at six months she’d won a national department store’s gorgeous baby contest. Men often acted like fools to gain her attention. Every pick-up line in the book had been used on her. After her parameters comment, most men she knew would’ve worked to spin an erotic deal. Then she’d have countered, letting him know she intended to set the terms of their relationship. If he wasn’t willing to take her terms, then she walked. Yup, men were predictably simple.

  Until AJ.

  “I suggest you check the yellow pages. I’ve got a job, and I can make my own coffee.” The biting edge to her words surprised her. Geez. Her voice sounded like she was disappointed he hadn’t suggested something more personal.

  He shrugged. “Suit yourself.” Then he sauntered to the fridge to retrieve the eggs and butter. “You want me to toss one in the pan for you?”

  She shook her head, slightly dizzy with his turnaround. “What brings you to this part of the inn?”

  He raised an eyebrow at her comment. “As opposed to where I’m supposed to be?”

  “I didn’t say that.”

  “No, you implied it.”

  Well, yeah, but he wasn’t supposed to pick up on that fact.

  “The Carriage House doesn’t have a kitchen.”

  Funny how Cassie failed to mention that little detail. Unless the man ate at restaurants or had take out three times a day, their paths would repeatedly cross over the next few days.

  “It may lack a kitchen, but the hot tub makes up for it.” He rolled his shoulders. Muscles rippled under his cotton tee. “Turned out I ended up achy from the accident, but the whirlpool did wonders. I thought we’d swap kitchen privileges for hot tub use.”

  The vision of AJ in the hot tub, his firm body glistening with water as he gazed at her the way he had a minute ago as if he meant to devour her, flashed in her mind. Warm, as if she were sitting in the steaming water, she ignored her nerve endings stirring to life. “You’re welcome to use the kitchen, but I’ll pass on the hot tub.”

  “You don’t know what you’re missing.” He reached into a drawer, withdrew a knife, and used it to cut off a hunk of butter, which he dumped into the skillet. The resulting sizzle swirled around her. “The whirlpool jets are great for getting rid of the day’s stress.”

  “What stress? I have what will be a fantastic job and the best boss.” If she didn’t get her body under control soon, she’d be melting like the butter in that hot skillet. Too bad the hot tub couldn’t help with her newfound sexual frustration, and how come her body refused to listen to her head’s insistence on how wrong AJ was for her?

  “Suit yourself, but if you change your mind, come over anytime.” His sexy grin told her if she took him up on his offer, he had no intention of making himself scarce.

  Him popping in and out of her space at any time was so bad. Even if only for a few days. The man didn’t know how to blend in. He came in and took over. She paused. The last thing she’d done before going to bed was check to ensure all the doors were locked. “How did you get in?”
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br />   “Cassie gave me a key to the Main House to use the kitchen if you weren’t around.” He pulled three eggs out of the carton, cracked them one-handed, and dumped them in the pan.

  “But I was here.”

  “I used the key in case you were still sleeping so I wouldn’t wake you.”

  The man had an answer ready for everything. Yet another police officer characteristic. She’d never won an argument with her father either. No matter how persuasive her case, her father came up with a better rebuttal, at least in his opinion.

  How did AJ keep turning the situation around on her? She was accustomed to calling the shots. Time to take control of this situation, and set boundaries with cowboy lawman. She’d come to Wishing to start over, to get away from the chaos her life had descended into, and AJ was creating havoc with her plan. Boundaries. That was the key. But before she could set those, she needed a giant dose of caffeine to jump start her brain.

  As she reached into the cupboard above her for a mug, cool air brushed her stomach and hip bone. Her knees locked, and she threatened to break out in a cold sweat as her hand closed around the ceramic cup. How could she have forgotten she’d come downstairs in her cropped top pj’s with the stretched out elastic bottoms that tended to ride low? And from the cool air wafting over her skin, they’d done exactly that.

  Breathe. Act normal. Working to control the heat creeping up her neck toward her face and act nonchalant, she prayed AJ hadn’t noticed. She placed her cup on the granite counter, and a surprisingly loud thunk reverberated around her. Casually she fingered the hem of her pajama top to make sure it reached her sagging bottoms. No way was she tugging them up and drawing attention to her clothes, or rather lack thereof.

  Note to self: from now on get dressed before leaving your room.

  Satisfied that she wasn’t too exposed, she filled her cup with coffee, and peeked at AJ, only to discover his heated gaze trained on her. More exactly zeroed in on where her hand fingered her shirt hem. His eyes sparkled like sun on the Atlantic, as his impressive chest rose and fell with his breathing. Was it a little faster than it had been? A slow, lazy smile spread across his face, and sent her heart racing. “Nice tattoo.”

  A rush of feminine delight surged through her at the male appreciation in his raspy voice. The tattoo he referred to was a small peace sign above her hip bone. Between her shirt riding up and her dropping bottoms, he’d seen more of her body than she preferred.

  Second note to self: run to Walmart to buy the baggiest sweatpants and biggest sweatshirt you can find, and even that might not be enough protection against this man.

  “Thanks. I had trouble deciding between the traditional peace sign and the Japanese symbol for it. I decided against the Japanese because I’d have to trust the tattoo artist really knew what he was doing and wouldn’t pull a fast one. I was afraid if I got it, one day I’d learn it meant stupid-white-girl-thinks-she-knows-Japanese.” Stop talking, Grace. You sound like a nervous school girl who’s never talked to a guy before. Either that or a woman who should have idiot tattooed on her forehead as a warning to others.

  He chuckled. “Smart thinking. You wouldn’t want to end up trending in one of those Facebook posts.”

  “Do you have any tattoos?”

  She sipped her coffee, trying to pull herself back together. She hadn’t acted this way since sixth grade when she tried to talk to Robbie Simmons at her first boy girl party.

  “Nope, no tattoos. Can’t get past the needle thing.”

  “You’re a cop, ex-FBI, and did a tour in Afghanistan. You’ve faced dangerous situations on a daily basis that most people have nightmares about, and you’re afraid of needles?”

  “A lot of people are. It’s not—”

  “I wasn’t insulting your manhood.” She resisted the urge to grimace at her poor choice of words, and his raised eyebrows at them. “You don’t have to prove anything to me.”

  The minute the words leapt out of her mouth, Grace longed to snatch them back, knowing she’d compounded her mistake. Growing up in a predominately male household taught her if a woman said a man didn’t have anything to prove to her he became determined to do so, and from the offended masculine glare AJ pinned on her, she’d poked the bear.

  “That’s not how it sounded to me.”

  His gaze locked with hers, determination and desire flared there. Her breathing sped up, and she worried she might hyperventilate.

  He stepped toward her. She held her coffee cup against her chest as if it were a shield. Like that would protect her. Hardly. Not even if she threw it at him. She swallowed hard, told herself to back away. Break the spell. Her gaze locked with his, and she realized she’d never known a man who possessed such an open gaze. Clear, intense, without any pretense. And she feared without much effort he could see into her soul and know all her darkest secrets. She should run as if the ground below her were about to open up and swallow her whole, but her feet remained glued to the floor.

  Why couldn’t she move when she knew AJ was the last man she should get involved with? He was too assertive, too take charge, just plain too much. On top of that, there couldn’t be a worse time for her to enter into any relationship. Despite that, all she could think about was how his arms would feel around her. Her body throbbed in anticipation over the possibility of him kissing her. She inched closer, not caring about their differences or why he was wrong for her.

  He closed the remaining distance between them. His hand slipped around her waist, and he drew her against his hard, tall frame as his lips covered hers, warm and insistent. His strength surrounded her, an intoxicating, dominating presence. She leaned into him, pressing her hands against his chest. His frantic heartbeat pulsed under her palm as his mouth explored hers.

  Her hands slid up his sturdy chest, exploring, and caressing. Muscles flexed and rippled under her fingertips as frantic desire charged through her. Needing, wanting to be closer, she molded her body against his. He groaned, and she reveled at the hoarse sound of his need for her. His hand caressed the small of her back, his touch blazing a path over her skin.

  A burned smell wafted over her. Her nose wrinkled at the rank smell, and she pulled her lips away from his. “Something’s burning.”

  “It sure is.” He nibbled on her neck sending shock waves through her to the tips of her toes. She leaned her head back to give him better access, and groaned. Her arms clutched his strong biceps for support.

  A gasp, followed by a soft chuckle swirled around Grace, cutting through the sensual haze enveloping her. She recognized that laugh. Cassie. Coming to work in her studio.

  Sanity blasted through her. Grace jumped out of AJ’s embrace, and glanced toward the kitchen doorway, finding Cassie standing there, a know-it-all-friend smirk on her face. “And here I was worried you two weren’t going to get along. And AJ?”

  “What?” he asked, his voice as stiff as his posture and a certain part of his anatomy.

  “Your breakfast is burning. You’d better take care of that before you start a fire.” Giggling again, Cassie turned and walked away.

  “Damn.” AJ whirled around, grabbed the skillet, and dumped the pan in the sink.

  “That was embarrassing,” Grace said, in a lame attempt to ease her tension.

  What should she do? Pretend as if nothing happened? No way could she pull that off, even if he’d let her get away with it. Her mind refused to function. All she could think of was she’d trade her favorite shoes for one of the man’s kisses.

  AJ shoved his hands in his pockets, and cleared his throat. “That was a mistake.”

  Chapter Seven

  Grace stared at AJ, unable to believe he’d said the kiss they’d shared was a mistake. Not that his assessment wasn’t spot on, it was. She simply found it hard to believe he’d uttered the words before she could. Ignoring her bruised feminine pride and the need to prove she could change his opinion, she said, “I agree.”

  “We’re better off staying friends.”

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sp; “Absolutely. My focus has to be on getting my life back on track. I have a lot to learn about running the inn.” Grace ignored her body screaming in protest. Despite logic, it craved more of the delicious, erotic feelings AJ aroused so easily in her. Talk about addictive. She’d give up coffee for a regular dose of those.

  Speaking of coffee, where was hers? She remembered holding her cup as a shield when AJ kissed her. Where had she put it? Glancing to her left she spotted her mug on the counter and retrieved it. She raised the cup in AJ’s direction, and trying to act nonchalant instead of like a horny teenager, she said, “Thanks for the coffee. Now I’m off to work.”

  As she forced herself to stroll across the kitchen, her tingling lips made her realize how wrong she’d been about kissing. She’d thought the act overrated. After all, people kissed all the time, and for no reason. Friends kissed each other on the cheek. Even after mediocre dates people shared a kiss as a consolation prize or to test the waters to ensure they hadn’t missed wild chemistry lurking below the surface.

  Yup, she’d actually believed that before AJ kissed her. She suppressed a nervous giggle over her foolishness. In many ways, kissing AJ had been more intimate than making love with some of her exes, and she’d agreed to remain friends with the man.

  If she weren’t insane, she would be by the time he moved back home.

  After Grace left, AJ cleaned up his mess, and said to hell with breakfast. He’d lost his appetite. At least for food anyway.

  Holding Grace, feeling her warm body against his, he’d felt alive in ways he never dreamed existed. The desire still pumping through him left him for the first time in his life able to understand how people got hooked on drugs if the high was anything like what he experienced with Grace.

  And he’d said they were better off staying friends? His hands shook as he smoothed his sweaty palms down his wrinkled T-shirt. Either Hell was about to freeze over or Armageddon was on its way. He, who hated the words “let’s stay friends” with a raging passion, had uttered them to a woman, and not any woman, but the one who’d lit him up faster and hotter than Texas in August.