Lone Star Burn_Lone Star Sizzle

by Reagan Phillips

  He laughed. “The closest Starbucks is about a hundred miles from here.”

  “Damn.”

  He had to strain to hear the whispered curse. It hadn’t occurred to him to even imagine what kind of woman Blythe was until she let the fault slip. Was she the type to create funny little words in place of profanity, or the kind who let curses fly like the wind? Did she shy away from physical contact until at least the third date, or was she the type to welcome a man into her bed without knowing every detail of his past?

  “How do you get a signal in this place?” She wrinkled her short, pointed nose at her phone and frowned.

  He couldn’t help but imagine those same pouting lips wrapped around his cock and that sharp nose bobbing up and down as she worked him. Where the hell did that thought come from? If he wanted to keep his crotch from swelling to painful measures, he had to school his thoughts more carefully. Her sitting inches away in a low cut tee shirt that exposed the rounded tops of her breasts and tight ass jeans that hugged every delicious curve of her backside and legs didn’t make that job easy.

  Hunter reached into the center console and pulled out his work cell, careful not to brush her fingers when he handed it over. “Here. Use mine for now. Fort Mavis isn’t big enough to cover all the cell carriers. Some of the cheaper ones can’t get a signal out here.” Again, he didn’t think through the words before he spoke. She was messing with his mental sharpness.

  Blythe cut her gaze sharp across the truck cab before taking his phone with a curt “thanks” and dialing.

  “Information. I need a number for the Palm Resort in Galveston. Yes, you can send the call through.”

  “The Palm?” he muttered under his breath. “Kind of a ritzy place.”

  “It was supposed to be an engagement gift from my fiancé.”

  Fiancé put a fire in his belly. She wasn’t single. Besides that, what kind of man would let a woman travel hundreds of miles alone in a rundown car and didn’t at least make sure she had a decent cell phone? God willing, he’d find out when the jerk picked her up.

  “Where is this fiancé of yours now?”

  She tilted her head toward the window, hiding her expression from him.

  “Probably enjoying the house his new girlfriend’s parents have in Rehoboth Beach. My friend Mandy was coming with me to use the trip anyway, but she caught a bug at the last minute and couldn’t make it.”

  “Damn.” He knew all about fair-weather bedmates. He glanced over to find her bottom lip quivering again. So much trouble wrapped in a tight little package. He’d place bets she had no idea the torment a woman in crisis could cause for a man. “He did you a favor then. Sounds like you didn’t need him.”

  She didn’t look away from the window and went back to her call. “I’m checking on a reservation for Blythe Williams. I was supposed to check in last night but had some car trouble and—but I made the reservation six months ago—I would have called if my phone had been working—you don’t hold rooms for more than twelve hours, but it’s only been—” She glanced at the clock on the truck dash. “Well, you have a great day, too.”

  She pressed her finger to the end button and dropped the phone to her lap.

  “Everything all right?” he asked even though the sarcastic tone in her voice answered the question perfectly.

  When she finally turned from the window, her face heated to a rosy pink and her eyes narrowed in what he first thought was anger, then realized was an attempt to hold back tears.

  “The damn resort gave my room away when I didn’t check in last night.” She looked up at Hunter, her lashes weighted down and wet. “I don’t have a place to stay.”

  If she’d been his girl, he would have jerked the truck to the side of the road and kissed those tears off her lashes before calling that resort and giving them hell. Even so, he was half tempted to do it just to blow off steam.

  But she wasn’t his, and from the looks of her, she could handle her own problems without a horny stranger causing more conflict. “Did you put a payment down with a credit card?”

  “They’re refunding the money.” She ran a finger under her eyes. “It seems the hotel overbooked their rooms for the week. I didn’t show up, so I’m out. Oh—” Blythe pressed her palm to her forehead and closed her eyes. “But they’d like to offer me a discount on my next stay.”

  Hunter heard the frustration in her voice, but his attention had wavered to the white truck parked near the front door of Best Friends when they passed. Gramps usually didn’t show up until his lunch break from working as a horse trainer on the Double C. Something was up, and he’d place bets it had to do with the new manager. The real new manager.

  He glanced at Blythe. She had panic and pleading written all over the worry lines on her forehead. Damn, why did she have to fall into his lap? If she’d shown up a couple of hours earlier, he would have been working in the back and missed her completely. Then, he’d be spending his Saturday afternoon fixing the back of his stable wall. Instead, he would spend the rest of his day holding together the pieces of someone else’s shattered plans.

  He focused back on the road. “We’d better start looking for your car now. While Dale’s working on it, Nancy, our receptionist, can help you make some calls and book a new place in Galveston. I’m sure there’s something that still has an opening.”

  “Thank you.” Blythe didn’t open her eyes or drop her hand from her forehead. “I swear I’ll be out of your hair as soon as we find it.”

  Hunter chomped down in the inside of his cheek to keep from groaning. There was no way she was going to be out of his hair any time soon, and he wasn’t sure how he felt about that fact.

  CHAPTER THREE

  Blythe pressed back the building tears by blinking hard then opened her eyes and focused on the endless road of cow pastures and wire fencing. She could feel Hunter’s frustration across the cab of the truck, and she didn’t blame him for an ounce of it. He had a job to get back to and probably a family. Her imploding life was reaching out and pulling in everyone around her, even strangers.

  She wiped her hand under her eyes and sat up straighter in the cab next to one of Texas’ finest. She wanted to say cowboy, but in the twelve or so hours she’d known Hunter, she hadn’t seen a Stetson anywhere near his head. Though his boots were leather and his Wranglers were tight.

  “The kennel.” She hated the way her voice squeaked with residual emotion. “Have you owned it long?”

  Hunter didn’t take his eyes off the side of the road as if the car was going to be hidden under months of grown weeds. “It’s a family business. I’m just filling in until our new manager takes over.”

  Something about him had seemed off since she’d met him, like an eyelash stuck in the corner of her eye, and now she understood the feeling. He wasn’t the cute little dog-kennel-in-the-middle-of-nowhere kind. His rugged body and scruffy cut hair belonged on some range herding cattle, or whatever they did on the Texas plains.

  “What will you do then?” Talking calmed her nerves, even if asking personal questions seemed to irritate him.

  “I have a small ranch on the other side of town.”

  “Cows?” she asked and wished she hadn’t when he rolled his neck and made a deep, guttural noise in his throat.

  His throat. The mid-morning heat was already thick, and a bead of sweat ran down the front of his tanned neck before his Adam’s apple bobbed as he spoke. She imagined gliding her tongue along the same path and wondered how a man like him would taste.

  “Bulls.” His deep voice brought her back to attention. “My grandfather trains the rodeo bulls in his spare time. He keeps a few at my place and a few at his.”

  Blythe nodded, pretending she understood any of what he’d just said. “And you work with them, too?”

  “Not exactly,” he said. “I help with Gramps’s bulls on the ranch, but I’m focusing more on breeding Arabians.”

  “Wow.” She forced herself not to glance at his throat again. “Tw
o ranches and a kennel. That’s impressive for a family.”

  “There’s nothing impressive about working two jobs to stay afloat.” His Adam’s apple bobbed over a hard swallow, and she sank back into the truck’s leather seats. Knowing when to shut-up had never been her strong suit.

  “But your family’s commitment—” She snapped her mouth shut at the low growl she felt more than heard from his throat. She wasn’t even sure he was aware he’d made the sound, but for the foreseeable future, she’d leave questions about family alone.

  Every stretch of the road they followed looked exactly like the next. Blythe focused on the details. The street signs, the bends in the fencing, even the patches of dried grass. Nothing looked familiar beyond the endless pastures.

  “I joined the Marines right out of high school, so I wouldn’t spend my life committed.”

  She glanced to him, surprised he’d continued the conversation when she’d so obviously been giving him an out with her silence.

  “But you’re back.” She shifted in her seat and slid her hands under her to keep from reaching for his shoulder. Touching a stranger wasn’t something she felt compelled to do often, but there was a hint of sadness in his eyes that made her itch to comfort him.

  “My grandmother fell ill right before my re-up. I’d only planned to take a short break, but Fort Mavis has a way of sucking you back.”

  Damn, did she understand that statement? “Like a vacuum.”

  His face lightened, and his lip curled up at one end, followed by a harsh beat of laughter. “You know the feeling?”

  “I live exactly five miles from my parents and still eat Sunday dinner with them once a week. I’m daddy’s little girl and mom’s best friend all rolled into one.”

  Hunter nodded in agreement and smiled for a split second before focusing back on the road. “My parents moved to Houston after Grandma died. It’s been over a year since I’ve seen them.” He glanced at her. “It must be nice to be so close.”

  She’d almost forgotten about the car, watching his brown eyes shine in the bright sun and his forearm flex as he gripped the steering wheel.

  The cab fell quiet again until he reached a four-way stop and pulled over. “Well. We’ve driven out as far as the county line and no car. Are you sure you didn’t make a turn somewhere? It’s easy to get lost in the dark out here with no street lights.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “We can look again on the way back, but I didn’t see anything that looked like a stranded car.”

  Maybe the Texas heat had played tricks with her mind. Maybe she’d left the car further way than she’d thought. Maybe aliens had abducted her and wiped her memory clean. There was no rational explanation for losing a two-ton hunk of metal on a straight road.

  She hadn’t realized she’d zoned out until she refocused to find him staring with concern in his eyes.

  “I’m not crazy. Tired yes, but not so much that I can’t remember where I left my car.”

  Hunter put the truck in park and dropped an arm over the back of the bench seat. It seemed something he’d naturally do, but to her, it felt much more intimate. “Look. Out here we watch out for our own. Someone could have come upon your car this morning and towed it to their farm for safekeeping. It’s as likely an outcome as any. When we get back to the kennel, I’ll put in a call to Sheriff Carlton, and he can make some inquiries.”

  As if reading the panic she thought she’d tucked too deep inside to show, he rested one hand near her headrest and looked deep into her eyes. “Gramps works for Carlton’s brother on the Double C ranch. For that fact alone, he’ll make your car a priority. Nancy makes good coffee, and the apartment is free until the manager comes, if she comes at all. I’m not going to throw you out to the coyotes.”

  Blythe’s next shaky breath made him frown.

  “It’s not odd to you at all that I left a broken down car on the road last night, and now it’s gone?” she asked.

  He moved his hand to her shoulder, and her stomach tightened at the gesture. It was wrong to feel so attracted to someone she’d known less than a day. Or to fantasize about what he could do to her on the bench seat of the truck. But she couldn’t help thinking about Hunter. She closed her eyes against the image of him pulling her to his lips.

  “Your car is going to show up. It just might take a bit for it to surface.”

  The image went poof. Blythe opened her eyes to find Hunter adjusting the visor against the sun. Her cheeks heated, and she turned to the window to hide the blush. “You’re sure I’m not in your way?”

  Hunter didn’t answer. He put the truck in drive, checked over his shoulder, and turned around in the middle of the road. Maybe a cup of coffee and a hot shower would soothe her nerves enough to make some calls to friends. With a little help, she could scrounge up enough for a plane ticket back to Virginia and put this whole wayward adventure behind her.

  Hunter pointed out a few of the ranches on the ride back. She’d been wrong in thinking she had walked the length of several different properties. Surprisingly, her two-mile trek had only covered the south-facing border of one of the smaller ranches in the area.

  He also went on about how half the farmers were cattle ranchers and the other half, horse breeders. And how years ago, when the area was still being settled, farms came to blows over the water and grazing rights of each animal.

  It seemed strange to a Northern girl−even though she’d taken hunter/jumper lessons for a couple of years as a child−to fight for the right to have certain animals on certain lands. Surely, there was plenty of room for them all in such a wide, open area as Texas.

  She had become so lost in the thought she hadn’t noticed when Hunter pulled into the kennel parking lot and cut the engine.

  “Just a heads up,” he said before he opened his door. “My Grandfather is a genuine Texan. Genuine and larger than life with a heaping side order of crass and blunt. Working on one of the largest ranches and for one of the richest men in Fort Mavis doesn’t help his modesty. Don’t let him put you off.”

  “I’ve dealt with my share of grumpy old men. If I can deal with losing my car and my vacation in the same day, I can handle your Gramps.”

  Hunter shrugged. “If you say so.”

  Before she could get her door open, he had rounded the back of the truck and was pulling it open with a hand extended for her to hop down. This level of attentiveness she could learn to appreciate.

  Hunter lifted her bags from the toolbox, flung her duffle over his shoulder, and tugged her roller bag behind him toward the kennel doors. He’d no sooner pulled the door open than the loud, heavily accented voice of a man hit her ears.

  “And then I said, if you’re gonna be elbow deep up a cow’s ass all damn day, how about you shake my hand before you inseminate.”

  Hunter dropped her bags by the door and slapped the white haired man dressed in plaid and jeans on the back. Unlike his grandson, Mr. Cole had the cowboy look going on down to the brown Stetson, dirty jeans, and boots. He even smelled authentic.

  A woman a couple of years older than Blythe sat behind the counter. Nancy, she guessed by the way she typed on the computer and listened to the tail end of Mr. Cole’s joke with a grin. A second, much younger woman stood behind the rugged cowboy with black leather boots, hot pink skin tight jeans, and a white tank top that covered less than last year’s bikini. Her hair trailed down past her breasts with soft, ringlet curls, and a belt with a buckle the size of Rhode Island wrapped her slim waist.

  “Well, there he is.” Mr. Cole returned the slap of affection. “I brought someone by to meet ya. She showed up at the house this morning, and I couldn’t pass up taking such a lovely thing out to breakfast before bringing her by.”

  The bottle-blonde−judging by the dark roots−held her hand out for Hunter. “Sydney Horton. It’s a pleasure.”

  “The manager,” Hunter added, taking her hand for a shake Blythe almost missed. She was too busy staring at his smile. “I’m sorry
I wasn’t here to greet you. We had a mix-up with a friend’s car. I was helping her fix it.”

  Friend? Did he just call you a friend? Really Blythe? You’ve known each other less than a day. You should be thrilled as hell he didn’t refer to you as the pain-in-the-ass stranger who’d intruded on his life.

  “I don’t believe we’ve met.” Mr. Cole’s attention turned to Blythe. For a man who was supposed to be crass, he had the whole southern charm thing down pat. “I’m Hunter’s grandfather, though you wouldn’t know it to look at me. Fit as a fiddle at seventy-two and still pulling double shifts at the ranch when needed.”

  The laugh that bubbled up in her throat relieved some of the tension she’d been holding. “Nice to meet you.” She extended her hand, but Mr. Cole wrapped her in an enormous bear hug. Mr. Cole wasn’t a sizeable man, but for the several seconds he held her, his broad shoulders and strong arms felt gigantic. And warm. Like the hugs her father gave.

  “I haven’t seen Hunter with a woman in so long I was beginning to think he’d forgotten how to breed.”

  Blythe’s cheeks burned, but the scald was nothing compared to the scowl Hunter gave the old man.

  “Blythe’s car broke down outside of town last night. She walked here for help.” His voice dropped on the last word. “I let her stay in the manager’s apartment last night.”

  Mr. Cole’s smile only widened, though something in his eyes gave Blythe a chill. “Course you did, son.” He turned back to Blythe. “The boy’s never been able to take a joke. Takes after his mama’s side of the family that way.”

  If she hadn’t been standing so close to Hunter’s chest, she wouldn’t have felt the growl that erupted from him. The sudden need to defend him came on like a raging river, and she couldn’t suppress it enough to keep her mouth shut. “Hunter’s been the best. I don’t know what I would have done if he hadn’t jumped in and saved the day for me.”

  She glanced back, hoping to see the disdain across his face ease, but only found him glaring at his grandfather like a bull about to impel a rider.