12-Alarm Cowboys (164 page)

“Um.” He stepped back a few inches.

Those gorgeous eyes of his, she could drift deep into them, looking for the soul of the man. She noticed the long eyelashes on one eye, and shorter ones on the other side where his eyebrow was missing, too. They would grow back, thankfully. But his hands might bear scars, according to the doctor.

He swallowed and looked away.

“What’s wrong?” She unfolded the pajama pants.

“Just ignore whatever you see happening down there.” He fidgeted.

She glanced down to see a mighty bulge behind his zipper. With a smile, she blinked up at him. “Why, Mr. Arnett. You flatter me.” Delta laid on the southern belle accent.

He laughed, and let her unbuckle and unzip his jeans, but turned away from her as soon as the denim dropped to his thighs. She divested him of his jeans, trying hard not to stare at the manly, sexy ass displayed in black boxer-briefs right in front of her, then helped him slip on the soft jersey pants. Off to the side of the bed, she spotted the bathroom door, and walked in, turning on the light. Fancy. A big jetted tub took up one corner, a glass shower big enough for ten spread across one wall, and the entire room was done in soft, glowing, golden tiles.

“I’ll take it from here.” He came in and nodded his head toward the door. Luckily, a few of his fingertips had escaped severe burning and blistering.

“Okay, but shout if you need me.” She winked. “Remember, I travel with a pit crew of mostly men, so I’ve seen it all.”

He tried to stifle a yawn.

“Do you want something to eat?” She checked her watch. “It’s almost time for your next pain pill, and you should have something in your stomach.”

“Sure. Just a sandwich.”

“A sandwich I can do.” Cooking wasn’t a strong point for her. “Ask me to install a brake rotor, and I’m your girl. But to get water to boil? Uh uh.”

He chuckled. “I’m a man of simple tastes.”

“Then we’ll get along just fine.” She left the room, pulling the bathroom door behind her, but leaving it open enough that he could get his foot in the crack to open it. At the bed, she ran her fingers over the blue cotton quilt, then pulled down the corner of the bedding to make it easier for him to climb in. She hoped he’d nap, and the thought of him lying in that big bed made her want to crawl in and wait for him.

In the kitchen, she peeked into the dozens of white Shaker cabinets which seemed to carry everything a chef could need plus the floor space for about fifty people to do the cooking. This house truly took her by surprise. She’d expected a bachelor hovel, not a brand-spankin’ new, state-of-the-art custom home.

When she was halfway through putting together a sandwich for him at the big black-granite countertop on the kitchen island, a car pulled up. Three women climbed out, each carrying a box. “What is this about?” She crossed the kitchen and opened the side door as they climbed the few steps onto the porch and stopped, staring at her through the screen door.

“Ms. Pennington.” The oldest, maybe in her fifties, smiled brightly. “We heard you were here, but didn’t dare to believe it.”

So they’d come out to Treven’s ranch to check? Unbelievable. She put her hands on her hips and tipped her head. “Is there something I can do for you?”

The youngest, in her twenties and evidently pregnant, stepped forward. “We wanted to bring a few things for Treven. He’s done so much for everyone in town, the prayer chain is buzzing.”

Delta felt like a total bitch.

The young woman looked behind her as another car pulled into the driveway. “We won’t keep you, but we have some food, and some, um, things that might make it easier for him.” She swallowed, her cheeks turning pink.

“Please.” Delta pushed open the screen door and gave them her biggest smile. “Come in. Can I get you a cup of coffee?”

“You’re so kind, but no thank you.” The women stood talking for a few minutes, greeting the next arrival who bore her own box of food.

The ladies set their boxes on the center island. Delta unloaded two casseroles, three frozen crock-pot meals in giant plastic baggies, cookies on paper plates, a whole cake, and three loaves of homemade bread. She and Treven were set for a week.

One woman gave her a box of adaptive items she’d brought from the long-term care facility she worked at, and Delta tucked that box away in a closet, for now.

She couldn’t thank the ladies enough, and even admitted she wasn’t enough of a cook to know what to do with everything. The women left copious notes on reheating, and by the time they’d left—with a warning that there would be more folks stopping by—the kitchen island was full.

Delta leaned against the countertop, surveying the booty. She opened the double doors of the stainless steel refrigerator. Too well stocked, and not much room for anything more. Contorting her tongue, she used her cartoon duck voice. “What are we gonna do now?”

“What the heck was that?” Treven wandered into the kitchen, a crooked smile on his face.

“Oh. Sorry.” Very few people knew about her duck voice. “When I’m overwhelmed, I go into cartoon mode.”

“You’re one fascinating woman, Delta. Race car driver by day, cartoon duck by night.” He looked at the plethora on the counter. “You even baked bread?” His smile came with a big yawn.

“Your neighbors and the townsfolk stopped by.” She couldn’t imagine anyone in her neighborhood in Atlanta doing anything like this for her.

“Ah.” He used his foot to pull out one of the tall stools on the far side of the island. “I should have warned you.”

“The prayer chain strikes again.”

He nodded and poked at a plate of bars covered in clear wrap. “Gotta love livin’ in a fishbowl.”

She jumped to help him open it, then shrugged. “Short of taping a fork to your bandages.” Picking up what looked like a seven-layer bar, she held it out for him. “Excuse my fingers in your food.”

He opened his mouth and she popped it in. Treven stared at her with those sleepy green eyes. Nothing in her recent memory buzzed with that much sexual energy, or hit her that hard and naughty down low in her belly. She heaved out a breath and went back to making his sandwich. She had to watch herself, or she’d end up tumbling into bed with this cowboy, maybe even falling for him a little. Just a little.

“Some mayo, some mustard, please.” He sat patiently while she dressed the sandwich, set a glass of ice water with a straw in front of him, then plopped down next to him and held up a quarter of the sandwich.

He took a bite, chewed and swallowed, she wiped mustard from his mouth, then he leaned in and kissed her.

*

Goddamnit, what was
he doing? Treven pressed his lips against Delta’s, breathing in her sexy, spicy scent, like some foreign opiate that stirred his blood to boiling.

For a second, she froze, then opened her lips on his, inviting him in.

He took advantage, skimming his tongue over her teeth and into her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers, tasting every little bit of her he could reach.

He’d always heard that one kiss could change a man’s life. And this was that kiss. He could barely breathe.

Delta pulled away first. “Wow.” The word floated out on a sigh. She blinked those pretty mismatched eyes at him and licked her lips. “You sure know how to surprise a girl.”

Surprised
her
? Hell, he couldn’t believe he’d just done that. “If I blame it on the pain meds, would you forgive me?” But the meds had worn off an hour ago. This was all pure desire happening here in his kitchen, and he could feel her response just as if she’d waved a green flag at him.

“Nothing to forgive, cowboy.” She held up the sandwich for him. “And in case you didn’t notice, I was glad to participate.” The smile she gave him was soft and flirty.

He took a bite, chewed and swallowed, watching her. “You’re not what I expected.” The media made her out to be a wild child, doing what she wanted whenever she had the urge, spending her deceased father’s money like she was determined to go broke, and living her life on the edge.

“Yeah, I’ve got a reputation out there.” She frowned as she picked up another wedge of sandwich.

“Yet, here you are, being my nurse, cook, stable hand—”

“I’m really glad I could do it.” She said the words quickly as she set down the sandwich. “But honestly, Treven?” She squinted at him. “If both my race cars weren’t out of commission, I might not have offered.” With a shrug of one shoulder, she got up to refill his water glass. “I probably would have hired someone to nurse you for a time, though. Throw some of the family money at a problem, like I usually do.”

Her candor surprised him, her words spoken with a heavy dose of self-directed scorn. “Delta, I appreciate the honesty, but no matter why you’re here, it’s something so unexpected.” He paused to find the right words. “Besides my friends on the fire crew, no one has ever done anything like this for me.” Emotion welled in his chest. “Thank you. Really, I’m overwhelmed.”

She turned to look at him, and her eyes misted over. “You’re welcome. But reserve judgement until you see how I do with those horses.”

He smiled and gestured to her chair. “Let’s eat then we’ll go out and see what you can do with a barn full of cayuses.”

A watery smile curved her lips. “Cayuses?” She gave a quick laugh. “You Texans use such interesting words.” She held a pain pill to his lips then lifted his glass for him.

He took the pill as he let his eyes wander over her face, and his mind wander into the future. What would she be like in bed? The wild child he’d read so much about? Or the caring, concerned woman he’d seen the last few hours. A mix of both would be hot. Real effen’ hot.

Delta moved around the island and took her seat next to him. “And we’d better do the horses fast before that pill hits you, ’cause I’ll want you to stay in bed for the rest of the day.”

Her words caused a flood of lust to race to his cock. “Delta, darlin’, how could I ever refuse a command like that?”

She paused a moment, then broke out in laughter, her sweet voice rising to the rafters.

He knew right then he’d already lost half his heart.

‡

T
reven could barely
stay on his feet in the barn, exhaustion and pain rendering him nearly useless, but he liked that Delta picked up the list of chores quickly. She’d actually brought a pen and paper and had taken notes on everything.

They trudged back toward the house as he recited emergency phone numbers, Clint and Rex’s numbers if she needed help with any of the heavier chores, and a couple of additional tasks for her to do.

When he hit his bed, it took less than a minute for him to fall asleep. When he woke, in the exact same position, the room was dark. The sun had set. Delta had been right, he needed the sleep. If she’d only come and lay next to him, this would have been the best day of his life.

He padded down the hall. The kitchen was clean, just the under-counter lights on, but an amazing smell emitted from the crock pot on the counter. If he could figure out how to get the lid off and spoon some into his mouth, he’d be all set.

Quiet, feminine laughter came from the living room.

He headed that direction. Delta sat on the couch in a pair of shorts and a T-shirt, headphones over her ears, and a tablet in her lap. She looked so young, so carefree, but he knew she had a heavy load on her shoulders.

Not only had she taken on the burden of her legendary father’s racing team, she’d become a major player in the Pennington Racing Company, living like a nomad most of the year with no family, just a pit crew.

Spotting him, she pulled off the headphones and stood. “Hi. How are you feeling?”

The outfit must be her pajamas. A little too short for public consumption, the shirt bared her belly and cupped the round globes of her breasts. Treven’s mouth watered.

“Hungry?” She stepped toward him.

He wanted to wrap his arms around her and kiss her senseless. Damn, why hadn’t he thought to brush his teeth, use mouthwash? Hell, with his hands like this, he couldn’t do any of those.

“Yeah, I’m hungry.” In his underwear, a hard one formed. He turned toward the mammoth television sitting dark in the corner. “You don’t like a big screen?”