got away without even a scratch.”
Her hands were deftly assembling a white box, and he found himself watching the sure and confident movements as her fingers snapped the tabs into the slots. He suddenly realized that she’d stopped talking and he was staring. He rapidly lifted his gaze only to meet questioning eyes as big and as blue as the skies he rode under out on the range.
The zap of sensation that hit his body jolted him so hard it made him feel like he’d been asleep for years. “Excuse me?”
Her head tilted almost imperceptibly toward the booth of women. “Cougars usually eat their prey. In fact, they pretty much devoured poor Todd Lexington. He’s going to have a tough time tonight explaining to his wife how the fire-engine red lipstick got on his collar.”
His brain snagged on the image of red lipstick on her lips and promptly emptied. He swallowed against a throat tight with unfamiliar need, and only years of keeping his emotions and speech under strict control kept him from licking his lips.
Her expression said she expected a quip from him to extend her joke.
Sweat rolled down his spine. “Right. Todd. Yeah.”
She looked at him blankly like so many people did—as if he were missing any semblance of an IQ because he spoke slowly and deliberately. It got to him and he blurted out, “Kn-knowing T-Todd, he’ll s-survive.”
Fuck.
Twelve years of hard work vanquished in a heartbeat. He wanted to smash something. Throw something. He wanted out of here five minutes ago.
—
SHANNON was having trouble seeing and breathing at the same time. Beau McCade stood at her counter, the perfect specimen of Montana Man—the one every woman east of the Mississippi expected to see when they vacationed in this fine state. From the dusty tips of his work boots and up along his denim-clad legs, he exuded a no-nonsense strength. His black-and-white rock ’n’ roll western shirt stretched across wide shoulders, and he’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, exposing forearms with bulging veins. She gripped the pie box hard to prevent her fingers from reaching out and touching him.
He’s out of your league and out of bounds.
Her track record with men was short but not sweet, and definitely not something she was ready to repeat. For five years, she’d chosen not to involve a man in her and Hunter’s life. Right now, her priority was getting Hunter to stay in school so he could have a shot at graduating rather than repeating his mother’s mistakes. Right now, that plan was looking decidedly shaky.
Beau’s black cowboy hat hid most of his hair, but she glimpsed jet-black strands like Katrina’s. Strands that matched the afternoon stubble on his cheeks. His eyes were dark, too—a deep, rich brown like the roasted Puerto Rican coffee beans she used in the store—and their brown depths were hypnotic. She was acutely aware she’d been talking way too much, but between his delectable darkness and his overly short responses to her questions, she’d gotten flustered. Whenever that happened, she gabbed on far too much.
Why had she even mentioned Todd Lexington? When he’d replied, he sounded like he’d been politely holding back from saying, “It’s none of your goddamn business,” and as a result he’d tripped over his words. Now his previous bland expression was stony, as if she’d crossed an invisible social line only known to the folk born and raised in this town.
“So. The. Cake?”
His slow yet staccato delivery hit her like shotgun pellets—each word stinging like crazy.
“Of course. Sorry.” She slid the golden cheesecake she’d made early this morning into the box, closed the lid and slid it across the counter. “That’s eleven dollars.”
He silently slapped some bills down on the counter, tipped his hat, picked up the box and left the diner.
The book club members sighed as the door closed behind him, and Ellen said, “What do you think, Shannon?”
She picked up her cloth and
Her hands were deftly assembling a white box, and he found himself watching the sure and confident movements as her fingers snapped the tabs into the slots. He suddenly realized that she’d stopped talking and he was staring. He rapidly lifted his gaze only to meet questioning eyes as big and as blue as the skies he rode under out on the range.
The zap of sensation that hit his body jolted him so hard it made him feel like he’d been asleep for years. “Excuse me?”
Her head tilted almost imperceptibly toward the booth of women. “Cougars usually eat their prey. In fact, they pretty much devoured poor Todd Lexington. He’s going to have a tough time tonight explaining to his wife how the fire-engine red lipstick got on his collar.”
His brain snagged on the image of red lipstick on her lips and promptly emptied. He swallowed against a throat tight with unfamiliar need, and only years of keeping his emotions and speech under strict control kept him from licking his lips.
Her expression said she expected a quip from him to extend her joke.
Sweat rolled down his spine. “Right. Todd. Yeah.”
She looked at him blankly like so many people did—as if he were missing any semblance of an IQ because he spoke slowly and deliberately. It got to him and he blurted out, “Kn-knowing T-Todd, he’ll s-survive.”
Fuck.
Twelve years of hard work vanquished in a heartbeat. He wanted to smash something. Throw something. He wanted out of here five minutes ago.
—
SHANNON was having trouble seeing and breathing at the same time. Beau McCade stood at her counter, the perfect specimen of Montana Man—the one every woman east of the Mississippi expected to see when they vacationed in this fine state. From the dusty tips of his work boots and up along his denim-clad legs, he exuded a no-nonsense strength. His black-and-white rock ’n’ roll western shirt stretched across wide shoulders, and he’d rolled the sleeves up to his elbows, exposing forearms with bulging veins. She gripped the pie box hard to prevent her fingers from reaching out and touching him.
He’s out of your league and out of bounds.
Her track record with men was short but not sweet, and definitely not something she was ready to repeat. For five years, she’d chosen not to involve a man in her and Hunter’s life. Right now, her priority was getting Hunter to stay in school so he could have a shot at graduating rather than repeating his mother’s mistakes. Right now, that plan was looking decidedly shaky.
Beau’s black cowboy hat hid most of his hair, but she glimpsed jet-black strands like Katrina’s. Strands that matched the afternoon stubble on his cheeks. His eyes were dark, too—a deep, rich brown like the roasted Puerto Rican coffee beans she used in the store—and their brown depths were hypnotic. She was acutely aware she’d been talking way too much, but between his delectable darkness and his overly short responses to her questions, she’d gotten flustered. Whenever that happened, she gabbed on far too much.
Why had she even mentioned Todd Lexington? When he’d replied, he sounded like he’d been politely holding back from saying, “It’s none of your goddamn business,” and as a result he’d tripped over his words. Now his previous bland expression was stony, as if she’d crossed an invisible social line only known to the folk born and raised in this town.
“So. The. Cake?”
His slow yet staccato delivery hit her like shotgun pellets—each word stinging like crazy.
“Of course. Sorry.” She slid the golden cheesecake she’d made early this morning into the box, closed the lid and slid it across the counter. “That’s eleven dollars.”
He silently slapped some bills down on the counter, tipped his hat, picked up the box and left the diner.
The book club members sighed as the door closed behind him, and Ellen said, “What do you think, Shannon?”
She picked up her cloth and
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