12-Alarm Cowboys (60 page)

“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“No, but it’s the only option. My mom would be happy to see you.” He put his hands on his hips. “She moved into the guest house after my father passed but she still cooks supper every night.”

Sophie frowned. “I was sorry to hear about your father. He fought a good fight.”

A pinch of grief passed over his heart. It had been more than four years, but he still missed Pops. The man had taught Dax how to be a person he could be proud of. He liked to think his father still watched out for him in some way.

“Thanks. You and me both know grief, Soph. We don’t have to give each other any more. This is an offer from one old friend to a stranded friend. Nothing more.” Dax wasn’t one to hold a grudge or seek revenge for wrongs, real or imagined. Life was too short to get caught up in bullshit.

His father had always said, “Don’t sweat the small stuff. It ain’t worth a hole in your gut to worry about none of it. Ride a horse you enjoy, eat the food you like and hold onto the woman you love.”

Dax hadn’t yet found the woman he loved. Or at least he had found her, but lost her too long ago to get her back. At least now he wouldn’t have a dark ball of regret in his gut over his last conversation with Sophie.

“I don’t think I should.”

“It’s up to you. I’ll go wait out in the truck for you. When you get out there, let me know where you want me to take you.” He knew she didn’t have any choice, but giving her the choice was important. Sophie was smart enough to use her rational side.

Dax walked out to find Clint and Lucas waiting for him. They leaned against the now-shiny, clean pumper.

“What the hell are you doing?” Clint was never one to be shy about letting his opinion fly. Someday it was going to bite him in the ass. His cousin was younger by one year, but they could have been brothers.

Each had thick wavy brown hair from their grandfather. And being the firstborn son and a descendent of the first Blackwoods in Tanger, they carried the middle name of their ancestors. Dax was thankful his was Gideon. Clint was saddled with Cornelius.

“I’m cooperating with the insurance investigator so we can get the money to rebuild the restaurant.” Dax wasn’t going to let anyone push him around, not even his cousin. “You got a problem with that?”

“I got a problem with you hanging around with her. She burned her bridges, dude. Mostly on you.” Clint nudged Lucas. “Back me up here, bro.”

Redheaded Lucas frowned. “We’re just looking out for you, Dax. It’s bad news to fall into old habits.”

“She’s not a habit. She’s not staying.” Unless of course she went to the Triple B with him. They didn’t need to know all his business.

“Ginger-boy is right. Don’t pick up with Miss Priss again. It’s bad news.”

“That’s enough.” Dax’s temper bubbled up fast and hard. “This is my life and y’all have no right. I damn well did my best to get over what happened. It’s the
past
. Stop throwing it in my face like cold vomit.”

Lucas held up his hands. “I’m Switzerland, man.”

Clint stood up, scowling. “Family is more important than women. You can be pissed at me if you like but she ain’t worth your time.” He walked off toward his Jeep parked around the side of the building.

When Sophie walked out, Lucas stood. He saluted Dax and disappeared around the other side of the pumper. His friend worked at the Triple B so he would no doubt see Sophie if she was there in the morning.

It wasn’t something Dax was going to worry about. He was hungry and it had been a long afternoon.

“Dinner is at six thirty. We’ll be late but if we leave now, we can get some hot food.” He opened the truck door. “And a shower.”

Those were apparently the magic words. She climbed in and he shut the door behind her.

He wondered if he’d just made the biggest mistake of his life.

The ride out
to the Triple B took about twenty minutes. Sophie spent her time counting the seconds, pressed up against the door and regretting her decision. Sleeping in a musty cot in a firehouse alone wasn’t a smart choice. Sleeping at the ranch was a dumb choice.

She watched the town roll past, achingly familiar sights and new ones as well. Her parents had come to Tanger for her father’s job when she was a baby. As the only large animal vet within a hundred miles, in addition to a volunteer firefighter, he’d been busy constantly in and around the town. They had been killed in a car accident with a truck on the highway coming back from visiting her at college in Houston.

In one tragic moment, she lost the family she loved and the stability she needed. Then she lost Dax, or perhaps she let him go. Her life wiped clean, leaving her with nothing but empty days and lonely nights. Moving to Houston gave her a chance to start again. She’d used her smarts and her skills, along with a sublet from a college roommate, to remake herself.

She’d never doubted her decision was the right one. Until now. Until she sat in the same seat she’d occupied too many times to count, in the truck of the boy turned man who’d taught her how to love. Regret wasn’t something she would allow herself to feel, but damned if she didn’t feel melancholy for what she’d lost, what she’d given up.

“What did you find at the site?” Dax’s voice startled her.

“Site?” She had to pull her mind back from the memory lane that had captured her thoughts.

“Cindy’s Restaurant? You’re investigating the fire.” His tone was amused.

That rattled her cage. “You know I can’t share that information with you. I work for your insurance company, not you or the fire department.”

“We fought that fire as best we could.”

She didn’t reply. The truth was, she agreed with him. The evidence showed her they laid down a perimeter of water, as well as dug a ditch between the restaurant and the meadow behind it to keep the dry grass from igniting. They’d prevented a wildfire and saved the other buildings from burning although they’d failed to save Cindy’s.

Her duty was to her employer and sharing her findings with a client, or with the fire chief, was grounds for being fired. Potentially even criminal action for collusion. Sophie liked her life, such as it was, and her job.

As they pulled into the road leading to the Triple B, she couldn’t stop the rush of pleasure at the sight. The ranch was a beautiful property with rolling hills of rich green grass, huge groups of trees, fat cattle grazing as far as the eye could see.

Peaceful. Idyllic. Not for her.

“Hannah’s been staying here since Cindy’s burned.”

“I thought maybe she’d married. Wasn’t she engaged?” Sophie had blocked out a great deal of what happened the year she left town. After losing everything, she didn’t want a reminder.

“She was, but he was killed in Afghanistan.” Dax’s jaw tightened. “She cut herself off from men after that. Her entire life has been the restaurant. The fire just about destroyed her.”

Sophie was sorry to hear that. No matter what happened between she and Dax, she still considered Hannah a friend. It sounded like the other woman had struggled too.

Dax stopped the truck in front of the house and the front door opened as if on cue. Hannah stood in the doorway. She hadn’t changed much in five years, except for dark circles beneath her eyes. Her long brown hair was in a fat braid that lay on her shoulder.

“I should change my mind about being here.” Sophie could not deal with any more confrontations. The day had been emotional enough.

“Don’t worry. This is a safe place.” Dax climbed out of the truck and after a brief hesitation, Sophie did too then slung the messenger bag on her shoulder.

“Mama’s feeling poorly so she’s lying down. I made mac and cheese. It’s in the oven on low.” Hannah’s voice was laced with melancholy. “Y’all can wash up at the pump. I’m going upstairs.” With that, she disappeared from view.

“Was it me?” Sophie didn’t want to be the cause of strife between siblings.

“Nah. She’s either frantic as all hell or depressed. I’ve told her she needs to go talk to a therapist. It’s only been a week since the fire and she’s no better.” He walked around the side of the porch and she followed.

Mrs. Blackwood had a faucet and pump put in at the side of the house while her children were growing up. The boys and girls, cousins and siblings, were usually dirty, sweaty and in desperate need of soap and water. The rule was you had to wash your hands, arms and face before sitting down to a meal.

Sophie had a flash of a water fight with Dax sometime when they were sixteen. It had ended with some hanky panky in the barn rather than supper. She smiled at the memory.

“It’s good to see you smile.” Dax turned on the water. A soap dispenser jutted out beside the faucet and a towel hook, chipped with age. It was almost as if everything had shrunk, smaller and older than she remembered. Everything hadn’t dulled with memory but rather was sharper, different than she had last seen it.

She set the messenger bag with her glasses in the dry grass. They didn’t speak as they soaped up and washed. The cool water was incredible on her overheated skin. The soot and sweat had no chance when she started scrubbing.

Dax stepped back and gave her space. He left the towel for her to use. One thing she could say about the man, he was a gentleman. Even though the cotton would be unusable when she was done, he’d given her first dibs.

While it should have been awkward, washing up beside each other was comfortable. They’d done it a thousand times before and the rhythm was familiar. Sophie was able to take a breath for the first time that day. As she patted her face dry, the tension began to slide away.

“It’s nice in the shade this time of day.” Dax accepted the towel from her. “With the water on my skin, the breeze makes it that much cooler.”

Sophie turned to find Dax had removed his shirt.

Holy shit.

His nipples were small points in the swirling golden-brown hairs on his chest. Those slabs of muscle she’d seen in the picture were there, a foot away from her. Water droplets meandered down his chest, following the contours of the muscle and bone.

She licked her lips, the urge to taste his skin overpowering. Sophie knew that action was a bad idea. The most-supreme bad idea in the history of bad ideas. Catastrophically stupid.

His gaze caught hers and she saw the moment he followed her thoughts. “Soph?”

“I can’t get involved with you again.”

“I never asked you to.” He moved a half step closer.

Her body reacted as though he’d touched her, flooding with heat and need. Her own nipples tightened into aching peaks, needing to be pleasured, touched, licked.

No, no, no.

“I don’t want to kiss you.” She hardly recognized her own voice; its roughness reflected the arousal swirling through her.

“Then don’t.” He moved within a few inches of her. His body heat snaked out, skimming away the coolness she’d found from the cold water.

She looked up at him, a view that was bittersweet and frightening. She wasn’t small for a woman, by any means, but his height and size made her appear dainty. Feminine.

He plucked the towel from her hand and hooked it on the rack behind them. She blinked but didn’t protest. He reached up and almost cupped her face. Close enough to make her shiver, too far to touch her. She closed her eyes and his lips found hers.

Dax hadn’t intended
to kiss her. Hell, he had no doubt he would get his ass kicked by several people for even touching her. Yet he couldn’t stop himself any more than he could stop breathing. Kissing Sophie Evans was as natural as any act in his life.

She was perfect for him—curvy, soft, smart and so goddamn sexy. His dick was hard as blue steel, pushing and howling to be let loose from the confines of his jeans.

He shouldn’t kiss her, but he did. It was like coming home. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her against him. A groan worked its way up his throat. Her perfect breasts tempted him, teased him as they pressed into his chest.

Jesus, he might do something really stupid and come in his pants from merely kissing her. But oh, it was much more than a kiss. Much more.

Now that he’d started, he couldn’t stop. No matter that they were at the pump barely hidden from view by a privacy screen.

He couldn’t stop.

He brushed his lips from one side of hers to the other, nibbling and tasting her. Although she didn’t taste the same, kissing her was like coming home. He cupped her ass and pulled her tighter, pushing his aching staff into the softness of her belly. She was perfectly made for his hands and body, her curves filling his hands and her mouth melding to his.

He teased the seam of her lips until she opened, and he dove in, tangling and twisting with her tongue. She made a mewling sound in her throat and he thrust against her in rhythm with their mouths.

Jesus Christ on crackers, he wanted to strip her bare and fuck her until neither of them could see straight. He backed her into the wall, his body throbbing with need and passion.

“Please, Soph.” He didn’t know what he was begging for, but she seemed to.

“God, yes.”

Somehow she managed to undo her own jeans and his. As his cock sprang free, she grasped it in her still-damp hands and he groaned. Her delicate fingers pumped and squeezed his staff, and his balls tightened to the point of near-pain.

“Now.” It was all he could manage to say.

She kicked off her boots, then slid her jeans down until they dangled from one leg. He lifted her, bracing her back against the wall and entered her.

Home. Heaven.

Sophie.

They both gasped when he filled her. She was hot, tight and gripped him with her muscles as though she didn’t want to let go. Dax found her mouth again, wishing he could suck and bite her nipples, but his hands were full of her perfect ass instead.

He thrust into her fast and hard, unable to control the near-animal urge to claim her. She scratched at his back, pulling him closer and urging him on. It wasn’t making love at all. This was fucking. Beautiful, marvelous fucking.

“More.” She pulled her shirt off and popped her bra with skills he didn’t have time to be impressed with. Those perfect, big breasts were right there at mouth level.