Taming a Texas Tease (Bad Boy Ranch Book 7)

by Katie Lane

  “Well, don’t just stand there looking stupid, Valentine,” Miss Gertie said. “That sweet baby of yours is going to be waking up soon and I want to be there when she does.”

  Val grinned. “Yes, ma’am.”

  Once they were gone, Boone started to go back inside when he saw Emma heading down the sidewalk toward him. “What did Val and Miss Gertie want?” she asked.

  He started to tell Emma about the cross, but then decided not to break Miss Gertie’s confidence. If she wanted to prepare for her passing that was her choice. He just hoped God would let her stay on this earth for a while longer. Boone had started to get attached to the old gal.

  “They just stopped by to say hi,” he said. “So what did you bring me for lunch?” It was something he asked whenever Emma came back from lunch. Usually, she sent him a sardonic look and said, “As if.” But today she totally surprised him by handing him the brown paper sack she carried before she walked into the hardware store. It took him a while to get over his shock and follow her inside. He found her in the back room, hanging her purse on the hook.

  “This is a trap, right?” he said. “I’m going to open this bag and find a dead rat or horse poop.” He lifted the bag and sniffed. But it didn’t smell like decaying flesh or poop. It smelled good. He set the bag on the table and opened it. “Chicken noodle soup?”

  She turned. “Look, if you don’t want it, I’ll eat it for dinner.” She went to grab the bag, but he pulled it away from her.

  “I want it.”

  In fact, at that moment when everything was changing, he had never wanted comforting soup more in his life.

  Chapter Ten

  Things weren’t working out the way Emma had planned. She’d gone out with five men in the last two weeks and none came close to being the right match. After Marty Rucker, there had been four more disappointing dates.

  There was Lou Sims, who had just moved back from Las Vegas. While in Sin City, he had acquired an Elvis hairstyle, a Queen of Hearts card tattoo, and a gambling habit. Over cheeseburgers at the pharmacy soda fountain, he had talked nonstop about how easy it was to win at the craps tables and how he planned to buy his own roulette table . . . as soon as he hit it big.

  Then there was Jack Hobbs, who had the habit of clearing his throat continuously and couldn’t stop taking about his divorce. And Tim Ethel, who Emma had thought was just a devoted son. But after his mom had called five times during dinner—once to remind him to eat his vegetables—Emma felt like Tim’s attachment to his mom had taken a bad turn.

  Finally, there was Dale Buford, who had picked Emma up in the semi truck he drove for a living. On their way to Abilene for dinner, he proudly talked about the truck as if it were a living woman.

  “She’s a beaut, ain’t she? The Divine Miss Bitsy can handle any load and does it all dressed up in a slick custom paint job, chrome wheels, and LED lights that make my heart beat faster every time I walk out of the bathroom at a truck stop and see her sitting there like the prettiest lit-up lady you ever did see. And you’re gonna love this.” He unhooked some kind of walkie-talkie from the huge dashboard and held it out to Emma. “This here is her CB radio. Some truckers like to use that new app to talk to other truckers, but Bitsy and me prefer the old ways.” He pushed the button on the side. “Breaker, breaker, this here is Scalded Cat. I’m heading to Abilene with one fine-lookin’ lady and she wanted to say ‘hi.’”

  Emma eyes widened and she shook her head. “No. No, thank you. I . . . really—”

  Dale cut her off. “Now, I’m not gonna take no for an answer. All you have to do is push the button and talk.”

  Emma might’ve continued to decline if Dale hadn’t been so focused on getting her to CB talk that he wasn’t paying attention to the road and kept straddling the double yellow lines. And talking to a bunch of truckers was better than being splattered all over the highway.

  “Okay. Why not?” She took the receiver and pushed the button. “Hel-lo.”

  A cacophony of heys and hellos came back and by the time Dale pulled into the Golden Corral in Abilene, Emma had three marriage proposals, a recipe for Earl’s Best Chili Ever, and a proposition to meet Red Rider 1 at the Motel 6 on Highway 89.

  “Now wasn’t that fun?” Dale asked with a wink as the truck brakes released a huff of air.

  Surprisingly, it had been fun. Emma had to wonder if maybe her prospects of finding a husband were looking up. She climbed down from the big rig with a lighter heart and headed into the restaurant.

  Emma soon understood why Dale had chosen a buffet. He liked to eat. He loaded up three plates with every food item available. Once he’d inhaled that, he went back for seconds . . . and then thirds. The few attempts Emma made at conversation during dinner were answered with a grunt. At least he didn’t talk with his mouth full.

  On the drive back to Simple, she tried again to find out about Dale. But he quickly returned the topic to his beloved truck. Bitsy hated California traffic and preferred driving at night to driving during the day. She liked to be parked in the shade, but not under a tree that dripped sap. She hated being sprayed off with the hose, but loved being rubbed down with wax. By the time they pulled up in front of Emma’s house, she knew more than she wanted to know about the Divine Miss Bitsy. She also knew that there was no way she could compete with the semi truck for Dale’s affection.

  “Well, thank you for a wonderful evening,” she said as she took off her seatbelt and reached for the door handle.

  “Now hold up there,” Dale said. “The evening’s not over yet. You haven’t even honked her horn.” Without warning, he pulled Emma onto his lap. When he tried to kiss her, she realized he didn’t want her to honk Bitsy’s horn as much as his. She struggled to get away, but Dale held her fast.

  “Now I just want a little slap and tickle, Emmie,” he said. She skipped the tickle and gave him a slap that knocked his John Deere hat sideways before she jumped off his lap.

  “Shame on you, Dale Buford! I know your mother brought you up better than to force your attentions on a woman.”

  Dale held his cheek. “I thought that’s what you were interested in, Emmie. At least that’s what Marty Rucker said. As he was cutting my hair, he told me you were horny and looking for a man to scratch your itch. When you called and asked me out, I figured he was right.”

  She rolled her eyes. “Well, he’s not. Just because a woman asks a man on a date that doesn’t mean she wants to have sex with him. If you ask a girl out, it’s not just because you want to get her into bed, is it?”

  Dale looked thoroughly confused. “Why else would I ask her out?”

  She released her breath. “Never mind.” She opened the door and climbed down. Her frustration had her slamming the door a little hard. She immediately apologized. “I’m sorry, Bitsy. It’s not your fault you’re owned by a—”

  Dammit! He had her doing it. She turned to head up the path to her door, but stopped in her tracks when she saw Boone standing on the sidewalk. He wore faded jeans with a rip in one knee, a stretched-out t-shirt, and an old straw cowboy hat that was pushed back on his high forehead. An annoying grin lifted the corners of his mouth.

  “Evenin’. Did you have a nice time?”

  Before she could answer, Dale blasted the semi truck’s horn, causing Emma to startle. She turned to see Dale hanging his head out the passenger side window. At first, she thought he was going to apologize for mauling her. She should’ve known better.

  “Hey, Boone!”

  Boone smiled and lifted a hand. “Hey, Dale. Damn, Bitsy is lookin’ good.”

  “She is, ain’t she?” Dale straightened his hat. “And she’s sure a helluva lot easier to understand than most women.”

  “Ain’t that the truth,” Boone said as both men turned to Emma.

  She glared back. “Maybe it’s not the women at all. Maybe it’s ignorant men who can’t think of anything but sex and trucks.”

  “Is she talkin’ about us, Boone?” Dale asked.
>
  “I think so, Dale,” Boone answered.

  Dale only shrugged. “Well, see you around, Boone.” He ducked his head back in and rolled up the window. A few minutes later, the Divine Miss Bitsy headed down the street with her LED lights glowing like a Christmas tree. Emma had to admit it was pretty.

  She turned to Boone. “So exactly what are you doing here?”

  He held up a leash. “Just walking my dog.”

  “Since when do you walk Romeo? You usually just let him race around the neighborhood peeing on everyone’s flowers while you stand in your underwear watching.”

  “I’m trying to make him more civilized.”

  Emma glanced down at Romeo, who was lying at Boone’s feet trying to bite through the leash. “Good luck with that.” She headed up the path to her door, wanting nothing more than to get in her jammies and escape all thoughts of her disastrous dates between the pages of a good book. She should’ve known she wouldn’t be that lucky.

  Boone followed, dragging Romeo who seemed to be refusing the entire leash lesson. “So how did your date with Dale go?”

  “Great.” She lied through her teeth. “I got to talk on his CD.”

  “I think it’s a CB. Citizen’s band radio.”

  “Whatever.” She climbed the porch steps. “It was fun. I’m now known in the trucking community as One Fine-looking Woman.”

  Boone burst out laughing and she shot him an annoyed look as she searched through her purse for her house key. It was usually in the side pocket. She hoped she hadn’t left it in Bitsy.

  “If the date was so great, why didn’t you invite Dale in?”

  She glanced at Boone. He’d pushed his cowboy hat even further back and his eyes reflected the porch light. She had once thought his green eyes looked like twin meadows she wanted to spend all day in. Now they just reminded her of green cesspools of deceit. She looked away. “Because, unlike you, I don’t have sex with men after only one date.”

  “I don’t have sex with men on the first date either.”

  She rolled her eyes and went back to looking for her keys. “You know what I mean. You don’t even have to know a women’s name before you bring her home and maul her on your sofa.” As soon as the words were out, she realized what she’d said. And so did Boone.

  “How do you know I maul women on my sofa?”

  She refused to look up. Or act guilty. “Because you never close your blinds and your den window is right across from my kitchen window.”

  “Why, Em, I didn’t realized you were a Peeping Jane. Do you use binoculars or a telescope?”

  “Neither! I have better things to do than spy on you. Where is my stupid key?” She carried her purse over to the little table between the Adirondack chairs she’d gotten at a garage sale and repainted a bright blue. She had hoped they would take away from her hot pink house, but they’d only added to the Barbie Dreamhouse effect. She dumped the contents of her purse out on the table and started going through it.

  Boone sat down in one of the chairs and watched. He had released Romeo from his leash and the dog was prowling Emma’s front yard, peeing on every flower he came to. “These are the most uncomfortable chairs I’ve ever sat in,” Boone said. “You need to buy some cushions. Or just get a porch swing. I’ll sell you one for cheap.”

  All she needed was a porch swing made by Boone Murphy. “No thanks. I like my chairs.”

  “But a porch swing is much better for spooning with the dates you’re not ready to invite inside your house.” He picked up her hairbrush and ran his thumb over the bristles. A memory of him running his fingers through her hair popped into her head, but she quickly pushed it away and grabbed the brush from him.

  His eyebrows lifted. “So how many dates have you gone on this week?”

  Too many. But she wasn’t about to say that. “A few. You, on the other hand, haven’t gone out on one date. How do you expect to get through your mile-long list in three months?”

  He stretched out his legs. For the first time, she noticed he was barefoot. Who took their dog for a walk barefooted? Obviously, Boone.

  “I don’t need to go out on a date to know if a woman’s right for me,” he said. “I already have my list narrowed down.”

  Narrowed down? What did that mean? Had he already decided on the woman he wanted to ask to marry him? Had he had a woman picked out all along? She didn’t know why she suddenly felt sick to her stomach. It must’ve been the Bourbon Street chicken she’d eaten at the Golden Corral. Or maybe she just felt sick because Boone was so much closer than she was to winning the store.

  Giving up on finding her house keys, she stuffed everything back in her purse.

  “Are you locked out?” he asked. “You could always sleep on my sofa. Women seem to find it comfortable.”

  “Very funny.” She left her purse on the table and started trying the front windows. When they wouldn’t budge, she headed around to the back of the house. Of course, Boone followed.

  “You don’t have an extra key you keep under a rock or something? It’s not like you can’t make as many keys as you want at the store, Em. We have a key machine.”

  “I have an extra key.” She tried the kitchen window.

  “Where is it?” When she didn’t answer, he laughed. “Why would you leave your extra key to the house in the house?”

  “Would you just take your dog and go home, Boone Murphy? I don’t need your help.”

  “I think you do.” He glanced up at the second story. “Your bedroom window looks like it’s cracked open. I’ll get a ladder.”

  She started to tell him that she didn’t need a ladder because she had her own, but then she realized her ladder was in the garage. A garage she couldn’t get into because the key to the lock on her garage was on the ring with her house key. She watched as Boone strode across her yard and disappeared around the side of his house.

  A howling had her looking over at Romeo. The dog had followed them into the backyard and gotten his leash tangled in the holly bushes that grew on the side of her house.

  “Would you hush up?” she said as she knelt to untangle the leash.

  The dog stopped howling and looked at her with his big Bassett hound eyes before he ran his slobbery tongue over her entire face.

  “Yuck!” She stood and wiped the slobber off her face.

  “Hey, don’t hurt Romeo’s feelings. He doesn’t give kisses to just anyone.”

  She turned to see Boone standing there holding an extension ladder. “I wish he hadn’t given them to me.” She grabbed hold of the ladder. “Thanks. I’ll take it from here.”

  He shrugged and released it. “If you say so.”

  The ladder was much heavier than she thought. She weaved a little as she lifted it to set it against the edge of the roof. Once she had it in place, she climbed up to the ledge that ran in front of her bedroom windows. It was steeper than she remembered from when she’d painted the house. Or maybe it just felt steeper in high heels. She slipped them off and they both slid over the edge.

  “Ouch!” Boone yelled. “What the hell?”

  She didn’t even try to muffle her laughter. “Sorry.”

  “Sure you are,” came Boone’s reply.

  She carefully made her way to her bedroom window. Boone was right. It was cracked open. But as usual, it seemed to be stuck.

  “Would you quit being such a control freak and let me help you?”

  Boone’s words spoken so close startled her. She lost her balance and would’ve tumbled right off the edge of the roof if he hadn’t reached out and caught her.

  Fear had her clinging to him like a baby koala to its mother. She couldn’t help but think of what would’ve happened if Boone hadn’t caught her. But she only thought about lying on the ground in a crumpled heap of broken bones for a second before her mind moved onto other things.

  Like being back in Boone’s arms.

  It had been eleven long years since she’d been there. Eleven years since she felt the strengt
h of his arms and solid press of his hard body. Eleven years since she’d been close enough to smell his scent—a mixture of Downy fabric softener and fresh cut wood. The familiar scent enveloped her, seeping through the cracks of the walls she’d built around her emotions, and bringing with it memories of all the love she had shared with this man.

  “Jesus, Em,” he whispered as his hands tightened on her waist. Her shirt had come up and she could feel the calluses on his palms and the warmth of his strong fingers. Beneath her ear, she could hear the fast thump of his heart.

  She lifted her head and looked into a face she knew too well. The angular jaw with its dusting of golden stubble. The wide mouth that rarely went without a smile. The nose that was slightly off kilter. And the Irish eyes that always seemed to look right through her. He’d removed his cowboy hat when he’d gotten the ladder and a wayward lock of wheat-colored hair fell over the scar on his forehead. A wayward lock that she’d brushed back a thousand times when they’d been teenagers.

  Which probably explained why her hand lifted of its own accord and brushed the lock back now. As she traced the scar she’d given him, his eyes flickered with surprise before they darkened. She knew what that darkening meant.

  Desire sweet and slow unfurled inside of her—desire that she had thought was long gone. Now she realized it had just been waiting. Waiting for Boone to touch her and bring it back to life. The craving she had felt for only Boone consumed her. She wanted him. Desperately.

  It was the feeling of desperation that alerted her heart and had it sending a warning signal to her brain.

  Stop! Please stop before I get shattered again.

  As Boone drew her closer and lowered his head for a kiss, Emma heeded the warning. Summing every bit of willpower she had, she shoved him away.

  “No!”

  She didn’t even think about where they were until she watched him stumble back and disappear over the edge of the roof. Then fear like she’d never known consumed her as her scream echoed through the neighborhood.