by Mina Khan
Kate jumped into the conversation. “It's depressing. Oil prices are finally up and the wells are going dry.” Everybody at the table nodded, much of their wealth also stemmed from oil legacies.
“This drought isn't helping any,” another rancher added. “People are selling off their livestock to keep from seeing them starve.”
The man’s wife leaned in, wide-eyed. “Then there’s the fires burning up all of Paradise Valley.” A low murmur of agreement rounded the table.
“The only thing holding a breath of hope now are those city developers interested in the land around here,” Kate said. “Some of their offers are mighty tempting.”
“It's a laugh.” Tavistock waved a hand as if shooing a fly. “They aim to section off the land into little ranchettes and sell them to city folk, who want to play cowboys.” Nervous glances flickered left and right.
Kate sipped her wine and shrugged. “Times are changing and we have to change with them or be wiped out.” People shifted uneasily in their seats, some nodded.
Jack couldn't stay quiet any longer. “Just to be a devil’s advocate. What about water? We already have a water shortage here. The ranchettes will bring more people in, which will further strain the water supply.”
Elsie beamed and Tavistock clapped. “Good point, Callaghan.”
“But,” Karl Humberg, a local attorney, cut in. “I think Kate may be right. I've heard these ranchettes are high-end development. So it's people with money who'll be buying them, people who will add to the tax base.”
Mrs. Humberg nodded at her husband. “As for water, Abilene's developing a pipeline, and there's T. Boone Pickens ready to sell his water to whoever wants it. If we have the money here, the water will come.”
Jack almost gaped. What faith in the mighty dollar. “It's not just about money,” he said. “It's also about management of our resources.”
The faces around the table stared at him. Aged, grim faces. “A time may come when it won't matter how large our tax base is, if we don't have any water to meet essential needs,” Jack said.
Elsie’s reedy voice followed his, “When water is as rare as the blooms of a Century Plant, the resources will go to the highest bidder and it may not be us.”
Tavistock shook his head, playing with his gold wedding band. “We're losing a way of life.”
A twinge of jealousy passed through Jack. While everything else might be lost, Tavistock would always have Elsie.
“Maybe I am being simplistic, but I don't think progress is a dirty word,” Kate said, her voice a calming purr. “I think if we work with the developers, we can make it work for us. The key is management, don't you agree, Jack?”
He sat up straighter and met Kate's steady gaze. “Depends on who’s running the show.”
His cell phone vibrated. Excusing himself, Jack found a quiet corner and answered it. Jen’s voice —rough and panicky— came across the line. “Jack, we have an emergency.”
Jack stiffened. “What’s up?”
“Um, there’s a broken water pipe and we don’t know what to do,” she replied. “Can you please come? We’re drowning here.”
“I'm on my way.” He snapped the phone shut and glanced at his watch. Nine thirty. Not too bad. He’d spent a decent amount of time at the event. Jack strode back to the table in a lighter mood. He whispered to Kate that an emergency had come up and they had to leave. She stood and started saying her goodbyes. Couldn’t she hurry it up? Jack shook hands and nodded at everyone, feeling like a bobble-headed doll. He relaxed once he breathed the night air.
In the car, Jack filled Kate in on Jen's situation. She nodded sympathetically. “It's hard to be a single woman at times. Jen's lucky to have such a helpful landlord.”
Who did Kate call for her plumbing problems? Actually, that was none of his business. Jack drummed his fingers on the center console during most of the drive, wanting to be at Jen’s and fixing things. When they arrived at Kate's house, Jack jumped out. He apologized again for cutting her evening short.
“Tell you what, I'll let you take me out some other evening to make up for this.” Kate leaned forward. Her sweet, flowery perfume tickled his nose, making him dizzy and nauseous. Too close for comfort.
“Ah, sure,” Jack said, taking a step back. “I better go before my rent house goes underwater.”
“Good luck,” she called to his retreating back.
“Good night,” Jack answered, without turning around. He didn't slow down until he reached the pickup and climbed into the driver's seat. What just happened? Had Kate wanted him to kiss her? Talk about surprises.
He started the pickup and got the hell out of Dodge.
Chapter 10
What a disaster. Lynn kneeled in cold ankle deep water and peered at the pipes under Jen's kitchen sink. She could do this. Just stay calm.
A spray of water from the broken pipe splattered her face. She turned away, coughing, and blindly grasped the pipe until her hands covered most of the hole. The water pulsed and fizzed against her skin, sneaking out wherever it could. Nope, this wouldn't work. Taking a deep breath, she let go. Water sprayed everywhere. She grimaced and swallowed the curses dancing on the tip of her tongue. What the hell had made her think she could do this?
In the beginning, it seemed so manageable. She'd volunteered to do the dishes and left Jen, who had a cold, tucked on the couch. Soon afterwards, cold water licked her toes. Even with the faucet turned off, water still streamed out.
Jen had hovered in the doorway. “Anything I can do to help?”
"You want to get pneumonia? I’ve got this covered." Lynn wished she felt half as confident as she’d sounded. “Go back to your couch.”
"I think I should call Jack."
“No!” Lynn had rolled her eyes. Jack to the rescue yet again? No way. "I can handle this."
Yeah, right. She had handled it all right. Handled it with as much finesse as only a clumsy dragon could. Lynn had tried unsuccessfully to find the water meter and the turn-off valve. Next, assuming that the pipe was leaking from a loose joint, she tackled it with a pair of pliers.
A stomach-wrenching noise later, the rusty pipe had developed a jagged, yawning hole. Water sprayed her. Lynn shot away from the pipe, slid and landed with a significant splash on her bottom.
Jen dialed Jack.
"Traitor," Lynn grumbled, half-listening to the one-sided conversation as she came up with her next strategy— duct tape. Her butt hurt and her pride hurt even worse. Jack must think she was a chronic damsel-in-distress. So much for great impressions.
An image of him taking off his fire helmet and smiling at her came to mind. What a smile. The memory of their tangled gazes steamed through her. Lynn started at the feather-soft melting inside her. Guilt tapped at her conscience. Here to hunt for duct tape, remember? Focus on the problem. She found the duct tape in the same drawer as Jen’s gift wrapping paper and scissors. The girl needed serious help.
Grabbing the purple tape, Lynn ran back to the sink. She needed to get the problem fixed before Jack showed up. Water pelted her as she struggled to wrap duct tape around the offending crack. She worked quickly and wove lengths and lengths of tape about the pipe, her arms moving up, down, and sideways. Finally, out of tape, she sat back on her haunches and grinned. She’d tamed the beast! The water was down to a trickle and a few half-hearted spits. Temporary fix, but not bad.
She grabbed a mop and shoved it back and forth across the wet floor. On a roll now. The water would be gone before Mr. Callaghan showed. After a few minutes, Lynn stopped and leaned against the handle. Oh, her muscles ached. A massage would be heaven. Of course, she instantly recalled his fingers work their magic on her foot. She closed her eyes. In her mind, Jack smiled and placed his big hands on her back. His hands moved, spread warmth and tingles. They inched up and under her shirt, to the front and up, up until they reached and cupped her breasts—
He’s a suspect. Her eyes flew open and she vigorously mopped a patch of floor unti
l it winked back squeaky clean and shiny.
A loud knock, followed by the hum of conversation. Jack. She headed for the door, before coming to a standstill. What was she, a teenager? No, that was the dragon in her. Lynn blew out a breath and grasped the mop for support. Remember the difference. She counted backwards to slow down her heart to regular speed.
Jack appeared in the doorway, dressed in some sort of formal wear. Every muscle in her body quivered. She almost expected him to say “Bond. James Bond”. Lynn licked her lips and stared at him. Okay, roll tongue back up and close mouth. She took a deep breath. “Wow, you, um…You really cleaned up.”
Jack leaned against the doorframe and grinned as Lynn gaped at him and nervously licked her lips. Oh yeah. For once he wasn't the mess. “I put this on just for you.”
Her answering grin sparked a fierce desire to kiss her. He shifted to shove his hands in his pockets and hide the sudden bulge in his pants. His eyebrows inched up as he whistled. “Your new look suits you.”
Maybe he should have his head examined because he actually meant the compliment. She did look cute and sexy.
A barefoot Lynn, wearing cut off jeans and a faded gray t-shirt, glared at him while clutching a mop. Her hair, twisted and held up by a clip, ended in a fountain of spikes. She scowled. “You like the water-logged monster look?”
He grinned. Lynn, the wet and wild punk-rocker maid. His eyes drifted back to the dripping wet t-shirt. Hmm, maybe he wasn’t so crazy after all. Nothing cute and harmless about her curves. With an effort of will he turned toward the problem he’d come to fix.
A massive ball of duct tape hung from the pipe under the sink, looking like a very weird, very malignant growth. What on earth? He squatted and peered at the purple mass.
"What are you wearing?"
"It's a tux," Jack said, standing. "Haven't you ever seen one before?"
"Not like this one," Lynn replied, taking a few steps toward him. "You're wearing jeans, for Pete's sake."
Jack stood and did a turn, the way he imagined a model would. "You are looking at a Western tux. Note the long coat with tails, a string bolo tie instead of a stupid bow tie, the jeans and boots. I’m all decked out."
Another step closer. She reached out and touched the brim of his hat. “And yes, a black cowboy hat.” Lynn’s dark eyes glittered. “It should be white, you know? Heroes always wear the white hat.”
She didn’t know the Callaghans. A bitter taste filled his mouth. Jack looked away from her, at the hissing pipe. Heard her stumble, felt cool air between them.
“So what are you going to do about this?”
Jack couldn’t resist. He looked down at his clothes, then her. “Nothing. I think you have it under control.”
Her beautiful eyes widened. “What?”
“Just joking,” Jack chuckled. “So why didn't you turn off the water to the house?”
Lynn mumbled something.
“Didn't catch that.”
“I couldn't find the meter,” she said, biting out each word. Her lips pushed out in a sexy pout.
Something growled within him. A wild urge to grab her, nip those pink lips, and taste her gripped him. Jack took a deep breath as he rocked on the edge of control. Down boy, down. “You’re such a city girl.” He grinned to hide the turmoil inside him. “There's no meter because we use well water out here. There's a valve by the well.”
Jack hurried out the door. He liked having fun, but these emotions were new, different.
After about half an hour, and after getting completely drenched, he’d fixed the leak and helped clean up the kitchen. By the end of all that, when Lynn offered him a dry towel and a cold beer, Jack figured he'd definitely earned the reward.
Jack threw the towel onto the seat and sank into the recliner. He took a drink, and let out a deep sigh. "It's been a long day."
"Sorry about spoiling a nice evening for you," Jen said.
"Thanks for the rescue," Lynn said in a tiny voice.
Jack grimaced and shrugged. He filled them in on the shindig, minus Kate and her surprises. "The fundraiser’s for a good cause, but it was kind of stiff and I was ready to get out," he said. "So in a way, you rescued me too."
Jen sneezed and Lynn jumped to get her more ginger-infused tea.
"Talking of rescue," Jen croaked. "Rescue me from this over-zealous nurse, will you?"
"Stop complaining," Lynn said, going into the kitchen. "I'm just doing what needs to be done."
Jen shook her head. "This is your vacation, I can't let you spend it playing nurse." She leaned towards Jack and whispered, "She's driving me nuts. Do something."
"Why should I? You ragged me about my tux."
"I'll buy you a case of beer. Shiner Bock, your favorite." She cast a desperate look towards the kitchen. "That ginger tea is vile."
"I'll see what I can do," he replied. When Lynn returned with the tea, Jack offered to take her sightseeing the next day.
"Oh, I can't leave Jen, as sick as she is." Lynn shook her head at both of them.
"Yes, you can," Jen said. "It's settled. Pick her up at nine!"
Lynn blushed again. "Jen, behave," she said. "I can't impose on Jack."
This time Jack shook his head. "I really don't have much going on tomorrow. The machine parts still haven't come in," he said. "Besides, it'll be my pleasure." He’d enjoy showing her around, getting to know her, exploring all possibilities. He pushed to the edge of the recliner hoping she’d agree.
Jen added further endorsements. "He grew up here, so you'll have an authentic, native tour guide. He'll take you off the beaten path."
Jack grinned wickedly. "Wear comfortable shoes, darlin’."
Chapter 11
Lynn almost spewed coffee as she stared at the San Angelo Herald’s Society Page. A large black and white picture of Jack and a blonde stopped her from flipping to the comics section. The woman, identified as Katherine Harrington, clung to his arm and flashed a movie-star smile. Jealousy clouded her mind. The dragon bristled. Hands off. Now.
She sputtered and coughed as coffee went down the wrong pipe, making Jen glance away from the early morning scene she was trying to capture in watercolor. Her painting already looked like a photograph of the view outside the kitchen window. “Are you okay?”
Lynn nodded, ducking her head as common sense flooded her. She had no right, no right at all, to be jealous. She and men weren’t meant to be. Hadn’t her experience with Rob taught her anything? In fact, she shouldn’t even care who Mr. Callaghan socialized with, unless the woman turned out to be his partner-in-crime. She narrowed her eyes, studying the woman’s perfect up-do. Jack was nothing more than a nice guy, an acquaintance. A suspect. She flipped back to the front-page news stories.
“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jen squinted at her. “You look kind of peaky.”
Lynn raised the mug to her lips and took a careful sip. “Must be catching your cold.” Truth be told, she’d had a restless night. Her stomach muscles clenched as she remembered her early morning dream. Jack, her, and a giant out-of-control water hose. It was a wet dream in more ways than one. Heat spread downward from her face.
Fortunately, Jen had turned back to the window and to her work. “There’s Jack!” she called out.
Lynn popped out of her chair and spotted a cloud of dust approaching. God, how was she ever going to face the man? She whirled toward her room. Maybe she’d pretend to be sick. And lose the chance to interrogate him again? No way, no how. Lynn drew up her shoulders and turned back toward the approaching green pickup. Get a grip. The dream was nothing more than a case of nerves strained by the plumbing disaster of the century.
Or maybe Jack was totally to blame. The surprise of seeing him clean would have been too much for anybody. The way the tuxedo jacket had hung off those broad shoulders and molded to his wide back, tapering at the waist, and the way the jeans showed off the long lines of his legs, that very nice ass.
Her temperature had spiked to dangerous levels
when he’d returned from the living room sans tux, shirt and cowboy hat. All the contours and planes she’d imagined laid bare. Her fingers had tingled with the need to run them through his hair, across his sculpted stomach. While he’d worked, she’d checked him out. Seen his muscles contract and relax under smooth skin, drops of water shine and sparkle caught in the swirl of dark hair that disappeared into his tight, tight jeans.
Warm, melting sensations shivered through her.
She scowled as she swung her backpack onto her shoulder. The dragon’s raging hormones kept throwing her off her game. Once she’d woken from the dream, she’d tried a cold shower, then meditating. Neither had worked.
“I just need to get the guy to answer some questions,” she muttered. “Then he’ll be a) behind bars for arson, b) burnt toast, or c) riding into the sunset with the blonde.” A reedy breath skittered out of her. “Then I can stop—” Stop what? The involuntary flutters she experienced every time Jack came in view? Stop dreaming? Ha, good luck.
“What?” Jen said, frowning.
“What? Oh, ah…, Jack’s here.” She scrambled to open the door.
A giggle stopped her mid-step. “Have fun!”
Fun? Oh no, what was Jen up to? Initially, she’d been embarrassed at her friend’s insistence that Jack play tour guide. Then her practical self had re-asserted itself. Whatever Jen’s intentions, hers were all business.
Lynn stuck out her tongue at her friend. “Don’t wait up!” She turned to face Jack as he held the truck door open for her and her insides turned to mush. He wore a sexy grin and tight Wrangler jeans. The Dream Cowboy. Yeehaw!
Jack watched Lynn saunter up to the truck. The sway of her hips, the way her gray t-shirt clung to her curves, those flashing dark eyes— oh yeah, she was hot.
