“You’re up already?”
“Yeah, I want to cruise the ranch again.”
“Did you guys see anything a few nights back when I asked you to check the property?”
“Actually we did.”
“Who was it?”
“I don’t know. We were sitting out on the south end just like I’d told you we’d do and parked the truck behind some brush to sort of hide it. Anyhow, about ten p.m. we saw lights. Looked like two flashlights.”
“Could you make out faces?”
“No, and they didn’t come on our property either. They stuck close to the fence line though.”
“All right, keep me posted if they trespass.”
“I will. We’ve been back to check each night since. You’ll have to dig a bullet out of them if they do.”
Nodding, I grin. “As long as you don’t shoot the sheriff, we’ve got plenty of room to bury a body if needed.” Probably dumbass teenagers looking for a spot to party. Hopefully, having Nate patrolling down there will scare them off.
“You better remember that if I really do shoot someone.”
“Hey, if you’re protecting yourself, it’s the truth. Just don’t shoot Dallas. Our uncle would be pissed.” He’d be coming after me next.
At that, he chuckles and goes back to looking through the shelves. We need to figure out who’s been coming around the past week and if they’re snooping. Now’s not the time for company when I need to make a few batches of shine. If I don’t get to it, I won’t have anything left after Chaos picks up his usual order.
The last time we had issues, my father was still alive. A few drunks thought they’d come on over and help themselves when my dad wasn’t looking. Dad called my uncle over, and they went after the drunks. Thankfully no one was hurt in the process, but it was enough to spread the word that my family would shoot anyone attempting to trespass.
We’re generally peaceful people, but it’s an entirely different story when you pose a threat in some way. God forbid it to end up being the sheriff out looking for something. If he gets tipped off, I’ll be heading to jail for sure, and that’s not my idea of a good time.
The ranch would never survive with Nate in charge either. He can barely manage to care for himself, let alone me depending on him to check out the fence line regularly. The horses would starve, and I’d lose any income from my boarders. I can’t let that happen.
Real life came knocking in the form of a new client looking for a nice, ranch style two-bedroom home to spend their retirement in. As much as I didn’t want to work, duty calls, and for the past week, I’ve been actively searching for their dream home. I’d rather be occupied with my plan for the next time I see Clyde, but it’s been put on hold until I have free time. With the amount of free time I’m fortunate to have with this job, I really have no room to complain either.
I was thinking about asking Nate if I could come over and cook dinner sometime soon. It’s been over a week since I dropped the wreath off to Clyde. That turned into a small disaster in my opinion. I figure if I have at least one Owens’ approval, then I can’t be carted off if Clyde decides to call the sheriff for me being in his kitchen without his permission. I wouldn’t put it past him either; he’s still pretty pissed off at me, it seems. The gestures have buttered him up a touch, but my mother has always said that the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach. I used to think it was through his pants, but I’m not too sure anymore.
After what happened the last time and with work, I’ve tried to be patient. I figured a little bit of space may be a good thing for both of us. However, I don’t want to stay away any longer. I miss him.
So, if I can get Nate to agree to my plan, I’ll get all dolled up and bring stuff over for Clyde’s favorite meal. They’re always grilling outside when I stop by it seems, but I remember him having a specific favorite that wasn’t just red meat and veggies. The man has a weakness for fried chicken, as does any Southerner, along with a fresh batch of biscuits.
I have the perfect black miniskirt and a macaroni and cheese casserole recipe that’s to die for to complement the meal. I figure if one doesn’t do the trick, then hopefully, the other will. I’ll fix him a good ol’ fashioned Southern meal and pray my momma knows what she’s talking about.
I’ll even bring wine and resort to alcohol if needed to get him to relax a bit. Do men drink wine as much as we do? I don’t think he’s too alpha to dismiss it if he has a glass with dinner.
“Miss?” My thoughts are interrupted by the older lady. “We love this house. I think it’s the one! Can we put an offer in?”
“Yes ma’am, of course.” I smile, taking in her kind eyes. “We can head back to my office and work up some numbers.” And hopefully, my search officially comes to an end. The commission will be a nice paycheck this month as well.
“Thank you. You’re a genius at house hunting.”
I chuckle but can’t help to think that I wish I was a genius when it came to men as well. “If you don’t mind me asking you, what was something you did to make your husband fall in love with you?” I find myself questioning as we all load up in the company’s Tahoe we use for showings and open houses.
I’m fortunate enough to not have to put miles on my personal vehicle with my job. I wouldn’t be able to afford the gas if that were the case; my truck is huge. And not to mention, half the people probably wouldn’t be able to climb in it. I have enough trouble myself. Snowflake was one of the first things I bought for myself with my job, and I love her—beefy tires and all. I guess you can take a girl out of the South, but you can’t take the South out of her that easily.
The lady’s husband snickers but keeps his thoughts to himself. She climbs in the passenger side as I take my spot in the driver’s seat, starting the engine. “Well, I think one of his favorite things was when I dyed all of his clothes pink,” she admits, catching me off guard. I wasn’t expecting that to be her answer.
“You’re joking!”
“Oh no, honey.” She shakes her head, and he laughs from the back seat, no doubt remembering.
“Was it on purpose? Were you angry or something?”
“No, but it was the first time I’d ever attempted to do his laundry. I was so young and, in a rush, I didn’t see the red pair of boxers mixed in with the light colors. Boy, that man teased me until I cried.”
“Aww.” I stop myself from shooting a glare in my rearview mirror toward her husband and pay attention to the road as I drive.
“Yeah, witnessing me so distraught had him shutting up and realizing how much it meant to me to try and take care of him in some way.”
Serves him right. It wasn’t very kind to tease her.
“After that, he seemed to appreciate me on an entirely different level—”
He interrupts. “I knew it then that you loved me, Barb.”
She nods. “I did, still do.” She smiles and glances at me. “And he also learned to do his own laundry. It saved me from loads of folding over the years.” She giggles and winks and part of me almost believes she did it on purpose. She may be the genius after all if that’s the case.
We’re pulling into a parking spot in front of the small downtown office our real estate company uses when I notice Clyde. I can’t help myself, but through the entire meeting with my clients, I keep glancing out the window. I sent the offer they were comfortable with, but during the process, I watched Clyde speak to several different people, all stopping by his pickup to chat.
One person stood out to me in particular. She’s blonde and tall, completely not his type—he likes short women. Or at least, I think he does. He better anyhow, because I’m certainly nowhere near as tall as the blonde.
“I’ll be sure to call you the moment I hear back from the seller’s agent,” I absently say, my normal spiel coming out on autopilot.
“We look forward to it.”
“You two have a nice evening, and fingers crossed by this time tomorrow, you’ll be new home owners.�
� My attempt at enthusiasm lacks as I practically shove them out the front door so I can hightail it over to Clyde’s truck before he leaves. I have to find out what he’s doing downtown and what that chick wants with him. I have my own suspicions.
“Sharon? I’ll be right back. Please send any calls through to my voicemail.”
“No problem, Shyla,” our office secretary replies, making a note on a sticky tab.
I’m power walking across the street in no time. Thankfully these heels aren’t too high or else I’d probably break my neck on my way over. That would be really embarrassing and just the type of fuel the town likes when poking their nose in everyone else’s business. It’d be quite the scandal to see me flat on my face in front of Clyde Owens, of all people. I’m sure half the town would be thrilled.
Said blonde is leaning against the side of Clyde’s truck, smiling like she’s found her future husband. Not on my watch, lady. Clyde Owens has been mine since sixth grade. I don’t care how sexy your long legs may be. I have a longer, stronger history with Clyde. That wasn’t always a good thing, but in this case, it may be.
“Well, well, well, what do we have here? You came into town to see me?” I grin coyly, fluttering my lashes.
“Uh, Shyla?” His brow furrows glancing between ol’ octopus legs and me.
“Hi, Clyde.” My smile grows as he swallows. “You should’ve called. We could’ve had lunch rather than a surprise visit.”
“I forgot your office was over here,” he admits, and Malibu Barbie laughs, but nothing about what he said is remotely funny. I shoot lasers with my eyes in her direction before settling back on the infuriating man in front of me. Maybe this chick will take the hint and scurry along elsewhere.
“No worries.” I brush it off smoothly with a smile. “So, what are you doing downtown anyhow?”
“I had to stop by and get another bucket of screws for the fence.” He shrugs, looking slightly uncomfortable with me shooting random glares at the other woman.
Twatwaffle leans in to join the conversation uninvited. “And he was just asking me to have dinner with him.” Her evil grin’s so wide you’d think she was the Cheshire cat and instantly it makes me hate her. My fingers tingle with the need to punch her. I won’t, but damn do I want to.
Smug heifer.
“Oh, how cute.” I flash her my own syrupy sweet smile. “I was talking to him about dinner the last time we were together too. Guess he’s a hungry man.”
My gaze lands back on a surprised looking Clyde Owens. “But surely after all the years we’ve spent together, Clyde, you know I can easily fulfill all those hungers of yours.” My hand pats his hard stomach, and I bat my eyelashes.
Barbie girl’s mouth drops, and I land the killing blow. “After all, we are high school sweethearts and everything. You’ve probably read about us in the papers.”
I flick my pear colored irises over her from top to bottom, bringing it home that she doesn’t intimidate me at all. “We were homecoming court, practically town royalty. Oh, wait…that would’ve put you in what? Middle school back then? Never mind, you wouldn’t have even been relevant to us.”
She lets out a little squeak-like sound with an angry flush crawling up her neck to go along with her anger, and Clyde grabs my arm pulling me closer. “Excuse us for a moment, Sandy. I need to speak to Shyla.”
“Sandy?” I follow him a few steps and whisper-shout once we’re out of earshot. “Really? That’s her name? She’s a bimbo!”
“How would you know? You didn’t even give her a chance to speak,” he growls with his face so close our noses nearly touch. I love when he does the whole angry-Batman voice thing. Turns me on. I can smell the earthy scent of grass and leather that seems to follow him everywhere too. Makes me want to just lean in and sniff him for a while.
“If you’re hungry, I can eat with you.” My own voice dips a bit as I ground out the statement.
“And who says I want to eat with you, Shyla? Did you ever consider that I may have a date or a girlfriend?”
I choke up for a moment, scanning my mind over everything I know about him and come back. “You do not!” He better not anyway. Gah, now I’m freaking out inside over the possibility of him having a girlfriend. Surely, I would’ve seen her around the ranch if that were the case. Amber would know this stuff, and she’d tell me.
“How would you know?” His voice grows to nearly a shout, our whispered conversation lost in the heat of the moment.
“Because asshole!” My voice climbs alongside his. “I know everything. I asked Amber, and she told me every single little thing she could think of about you.” My hand shoots to cover my lips, astonished I just admitted it out loud to him.
He blows out a breath, strong enough to make the few bangs I have, flutter. “You wanted to know about me?”
Nodding, I admit with a whisper, “Yes, of course, always.”
“I’ll think about dinner,” he finally concedes, running his hand over his face and standing to his full height. “I have to get back to the ranch. Nate’s waiting for me.” His gaze dips to my silver heart necklace for a moment.
“Okay.” I bite my lip, and his stare meets mine again. “I have to go back to work.”
“Okay.”
“Okay then…I’ll see you later,” I drone on, as he makes me want to ramble for as long as possible.
He nods. “Later.” And climbs in his truck.
Bimbo Sandy is nowhere to be found, thankfully taking a hint and scampering off. I still watch his truck as he drives away in case she leaps out from a bush or God knows what and plasters herself to the windshield. She’s got the stalker/stage three clinger vibe written all over her with the way she stares at Clyde like she wants to stuff him up her vagina or something.
That whole exchange was awkward and didn’t go as planned at all. I did, however, gain some ground in the dinner department. I can’t believe he was about to ask her out. Her. I’ve been stopping by his damn ranch at least once a week for months, and he asks her instead of me!
Clearly, I need to escalate my dinner making plans if he’s seeking out dates in town on his way to get screws. At this rate, I’ll never let the man go shopping—ever. I wonder if this is the sort of thing Clyde’s mom had to deal with; he does look just like his father. That poor woman probably had to fight females off of him left and right. I never noticed because I was young and in love with her son, but Jesus. This won’t happen on my watch. Those chicks will see me coming from a mile away if need be.
I can be as stubborn as a mule,
sweet as tea, angry as a hornet,
or loyal like a soldier.
It all depends on you.
—Life Fact Quotes
“You’re swimming?” Shyla states the obvious as a question, staring at me from the dock. It’s been nearly a week since the incident in town. For a moment there, I thought she was going to rip Sandy’s hair out. She seemed so annoyed to find out we were talking about dinner. I won’t lie, I enjoyed every minute of seeing her like that.
“Yep, I am in the middle of the pond after all.” I want to end it with a snort, being a smartass, but I refrain myself. Things have been a bit tense every time I see her, and in the refreshing water of the pond, that’s the last thing I want. I came here to relax, not get wound up as usual.
“I want to swim.” She frowns, staring out at me like I took a piece of cake from her or something.
“Jump in.” Shrugging, I float comfortably in the cool water. It’s not as warm as usual with the season changing, but it’s a nice break from being cooped up with the moonshine. The shed will damn sure make you sweat.
“I have to admit, I’m surprised to see you out here.”
“Why? I’ve swum here since I was a kid.”
“I remember, but I don’t know…” She copies me with a shrug. “I guess I figured you were too old for it now.”
“No, I still get in randomly during the summer to cool off a bit. You going to come in and swim, t
oo, or keep talking over there?”
Grinning, she makes quick work of her shorts and top, leaving her in an enticing black bra and red pair of panties. What is it with those two colors that turn a man on so easily? Last time she yanked her shirt off, I hightailed it out of here not wanting to be drawn in, but not this time.
I stare shamelessly at her body with each pace she takes toward the water. I’m not the only one who’s grown up over the years apparently. She has always been stunning no matter her age, but she’s rounded out in places only a woman is capable of doing. Her thighs, for example, are the perfect size to grip in my palms; they used to be on the thinner side. I like them better now.
She jumps, putting an end to my free show by doing a cannonball off the dock and lands not far from me. Water splashes everywhere and I turn away at the impact.
“Phew!” she gasps, bobbing to the top. “It’s colder than I was expecting.” She shakes a little, trying to move around and get warm.
I swear I’ve never seen her more beautiful than now. With a face clean of makeup and her hair wet and out of her face…she’s breathtaking. It drives me a bit mad, knowing that I’m letting her back in and I’m a fool for allowing it. I didn’t mean to do it, but she’s slowly worming her way in there.
“You were supposed to warn me that I’d freeze,” she teases with a shiver and lets a giggle escape. I’d bet a shiny penny that her nipples are stiff and would gladly take the warmth from my mouth if I were to suck them in and reward them with my tongue. I keep the thought to myself though.
“I don’t remember you asking me what the temperature was like. Not that I’d have told you anyhow, Shyla.” I wink, and her grin turns mischievous.
“Fine, Clyde Owens, you want to play dirty?”
“The dirtier, the better, Shy, didn’t you know?” I can’t get the image of her nipples clear from my mind.
“Oh, it’s on!” she cheers and starts splashing in my direction like a crazy woman.
3 Times the Heat Page 7
