Everybody's Hero. Karen Templeton
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welcoming committee. No glowering redhead with evisceration on her mind, no little boy tearing down the steps and up into his arms, not even the promised dog he shouldn’t pay any mind to. For a moment, he wondered if maybe he had the wrong house, until he heard it, just faintly— Taylor’s laughter drifting out the open window next to the front door, as soft and rich as the notes sporadically floating out from the wind chime hanging from the porch eaves.
Joe simply stood there, absorbing it, much the same way he was absorbing the almost-cool breeze sucking at his damp back. It was still hot, too hot, but the whispering of thousands of still-tender leaves, the calm whoooo…whoooo…whoooo…of a mourning dove soothed his frayed nerves, just a little. It would be another hour or more before the sun set, but the late daylight gilded the roof of the tiny house and set the masses of flowers ablaze in more containers than he could count scattered across the front of the porch and alongside the steps. There wasn’t much grass in the yard to speak of, but a great big old mulberry tree kept it shaded. Off to the side, the heady, peachy fragrance from a mimosa in full bloom mingled with the sweetness given off by the honeysuckle vine smothering the post-and-rail fence along one side of the house, arousing him in some way he couldn’t even define.
Just then, the largest dog he’d ever encountered nosed open the screen door, got Joe in his sights, and bounded down the steps, barking his head off. Before Joe could brace himself, ham-sized paws collided with Joe’s shoulders, sending him sprawling in the dirt with a loud “Oof!” And if having the wind knocked out of him wasn’t enough of an indignity, a gallon or so of dog spit now washed over his face. Then he heard Taylor yell, “Oakley! Drop it!” and he could breathe again. Move, no, but definitely breathe.
“Ohmigod, I’m so sorry…” Taylor grabbed his hand and, grunting, hauled him to a sitting position. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Joe said, cautiously testing assorted limbs to make sure he was. On her knees in the dirt beside him, Taylor was close enough for him to catch a whiff of her scent. Yes, even over the mimosa and the over achieving honeysuckle. He’d almost forgotten how good women smelled. And to make matters worse, her hair had come loose, swirling around her face and shoulders in a mass of glittery, untidy waves that looked hot to the touch.
“Gross,” Seth said, over what sure sounded like choked laughter. “You’ve got dog slime all over you!”
Joe’s gaze shot to his brother. Hearing him laugh was almost worth the sore butt and dog spit. Then his eyes swerved to Taylor’s, who sure as hell looked like she wanted to laugh, too, and for a split second, he felt the dumbest spurt of connection or something. Almost angrily, he yanked his shirttail out of his waistband and started mopping his face, only to then remember what Taylor’d said to get the dog off him. He dropped his now soggy shirttail and looked at her again. “‘Drop it’?”
“It’s one of the few commands he’ll obey,” she said, her forehead crinkled for a moment before she pulled a tissue out of her pocket, grabbed Joe’s chin and daubed at his still-wet face like he was one of her kindergartners, for Pete’s sake. The sensation of soft fingers against his skin sent awareness jolting through him, settling nicely in his groin. Terrific.
“He loves to play fetch,” Taylor went on, totally unaware of her torture. “But he has a problem with the part where he has to let…go…”
She went stock-still, her gaze fixed on his mouth. Then her hands yanked away and a little hiss of air escaped her lips, her cheeks turning practically the same color as the bright pink petunias spilling out of the whiskey barrel planter a few feet away.
Now it was Joe’s turn to barricade the laughter threatening to erupt from his gut, even as he had to tamp down the urge to plow his fingers through all that bright, glittery hair and plant a hard, fast kiss on that funny mouth of hers just because, well, he felt like it.
“Sorry,” she mumbled as Seth, bless him, got everybody back on track.
“You said six-thirty, Joe,” he said, indignant as hell. “It’s after seven.”
“I know, I know,” Joe said, collecting the slightly battered flowers and candy—which the dog had slobbered all over—and getting to his feet. “Traffic out of Tulsa was a bi…bear. Then the skies ripped open right outside Claremore and I had to pull off the road until it let up some.” He shifted everything to one hand and hugged the kid to him, his physical instincts fully operational even if the jury was still out on his emotions. “I’m really sorry. But I got you something, it’s in the car. And these—” Joe wiped the candy box on his jeans as the kid took off, and then shoved both candy and flowers at Taylor “—are for you.”
She stared at them like she wasn’t sure what to think.
Well, hell, Joe never had been much good at the keeping-women-happy stuff. He didn’t suppose it helped matters any that by now the flowers looked like something he’d filched from a neglected grave and the candy box was still slightly damp.
He blew out a breath. “It’s lame, I know, but I thought, hell, I should do something. But I didn’t have any idea what you might like. Since I don’t really know you, I mean. And the Homeland was the only thing open by the time I got here. But I figured I was probably safe with candy and flowers. I mean, don’t all women have a thing for chocolate?”
Why wouldn’t she say anything? She just stood there, staring at the flowers with a peculiar expression on her face. After what seemed like forever, she finally brought the daisies and carnations up to her nose and inhaled deeply. Daisy petals fluttered off in all directions; one carnation head plummeted to the dirt. She bent to pick it up, then lifted her eyes to his. “They’re lovely, thank you. But unfortunately chocolate gives me a headache.”
Behind him, the Blazer door slammed shut; small feet pummeled the earth as Seth returned, holding aloft his prize, a toy police car Joe’d gotten when he’d picked up the flowers and—he now realized, pointless—candy.
“This is so cool! Thanks, Joe!”
Joe’s heart turned over in his chest. It was a stupid two-buck toy, for crying out loud. But like the dumb TV commercial, the look on his brother’s face was priceless. Seth looked like a normal little boy. A happy little boy. Joe knew better than to think the worst was behind them, that this was anything more than the sun’s piercing the clouds for a moment. But it was a start.
And he’d made it happen. Okay, the toy had made it happen, but Joe had made the toy happen, right?
“You’re welcome, bro,” he said, and the boy beamed even more brightly, and Joe noticed Taylor watching him like maybe she expected him to sprout wings or something.
“I guess we’ll be getting out of your hair now,” he said, just as she said, “Have you had dinner?”
“No, ma’am,” he said after a long moment. “But I don’t want to put you out.”
She smiled. That full-out, first-place smile. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You won’t.”
Chapter 4
Flowers, for God’s sake.
The goofball had brought her flowers.
And candy she couldn’t eat.
Taylor eyed the Russell Stover box, sitting there so innocently on the kitchen counter.
Shouldn’t eat, anyway.
With a sigh, she climbed up on a kitchen chair to get down a cut-glass vase she’d gotten as a wedding present and couldn’t remember ever using before this. Partly because nobody—including her ex—had given her flowers since her marriage, and partly because, even though she was perfectly capable of giving herself flowers, glass anythings and bloodhounds were not a good mix. But then, she mused as she located the vase in amongst the million and one other wedding presents she had no use for but couldn’t bring herself to pitch, one could always stick flowers in a milk jug if one really wanted flowers in the house.
She thought there