The Texas Lawman's Woman. Cathy Gillen Thacker
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breath. Shelley focused on the practical and asked calmly, “What can I do to help?”
“Keep my appointment at the bakery and pick out a cake. We’ve been best friends forever. You know what I like.”
Shelley made a few notes. “Anything with coconut, butter cream frosting and strawberries.”
“Pretty much. Although Gerry’s favorites are dark chocolate and pecans, so whatever you can come up with that will look wedding-ish and still fit our budget, which the bakery already has, would be great.”
“Don’t you worry.” Shelley wrote some more. “I’m on it.”
“You’re sure? I know you just moved in, too.”
“It’s not a problem. Honestly. You just take care of Gerry. I’ll manage everything here.”
Luckily, Shelley’s sitter was available to watch Austin, and would stay until she got back from the bakery. By the time she got her son in his stroller and walked the short distance from the community center to her home, the sitter was already there.
With the two of them already playing happily, Shelley went upstairs to change out of her leotard and skirt, into a spaghetti-strapped sundress and flats. It was only when she walked out to the driveway that she realized she hadn’t taken care of the Prius’s flat tire yet.
But someone had.
She stared down at her car, perfect as could be.
And there was only one knight in shining armor who would have had the audacity to ignore her instructions to leave the flat tire be and fix it anyway. Steam practically coming out of her ears, Shelley drove her car halfway down the block, parked and got out. Sure enough, Colt McCabe’s pickup truck was sitting in the driveway, and his dog, Buddy, was lounging on the porch of his Craftsman-style charcoal-and-white home.
Aware she had just enough time to handle this without being late for her appointment at the bakery, she marched up to his front door. Buddy rose, tail wagging, as she rang the bell.
Colt answered. Decked out in a dark blue button-up shirt, neatly pressed jeans and brown dress boots, he looked ready for a date. He smelled incredible, too. Like sandalwood, soap and leather.
His gaze roved the floral fabric of her formfitting dress. Smile deepening, he returned his attention to her eyes. “Well, isn’t this a nice surprise,” he drawled, holding open the storm door. “Come on in.”
Figuring it would be best not to have this conversation on the porch, where any of the neighbors could witness it, Shelley walked on in, Buddy on her heels. He brushed against her, clearly wanting to be petted.
Colt snapped his fingers and pointed at a thick corduroy pillow lying in front of the field stone fireplace. “Buddy. Cushion.”
Inside, his house was neat and clean. In the living room, a coordinating multicolored braided rug covered the wide plank floor. The upholstered sofa and comfortable club chairs were covered in a masculine dove-gray tweed fabric. Table lamps were formed out of a heavy dark bronze. A burnished mahogany coffee table, captain’s desk and end tables completed the decor.
Shelley supposed the casual elegance and pulled-together decorating scheme shouldn’t surprise her. Though Colt did his best to ignore it, he came from money, too. Lots of it.
Word was, his multimillionaire investor father and wildcatter mother had set up substantial trusts for all five of their sons that were, for the most part, ignored by their fiercely proud offspring.
He lifted his eyebrows and waited for her gaze to meet his. “What’s up?”
“Did you fix my flat tire?” Shelley demanded, indignation flushing her cheeks.
Colt’s eyes twinkled. “Why do I think if I say yes I’ll be shot at dawn?”
“Just answer the question.”
He rubbed the flat of his hand across his newly shaven jaw. “I might know something about that.”
“I told you not to do that.”
“Yeah, I know.” Heat emanating from his big, rugged frame, he shrugged and offered, “But I figured you had enough on your plate right now and took matters into my own hands...”
Shelley hung on to her patience by a thread. “What do I owe you then?”
“Nothing.” He gave her another long, slow once-over before returning his gaze ever so deliberately to her face. “I was being neighborly.”
Finding him too close for comfort, Shelley stepped back, bumping into an end table in the process. “Well, I can’t just accept it without giving you anything in return.”
“Because that would make you beholden to me.”
“Yes.” Shelley propped her hands on her hips. “And I don’t want to be.”
Colt’s expression changed. “You really want to help me out, too?”
Wasn’t that what she had just been saying? “Yes!”
He hooked a hand around her waist and tugged her forward so they were standing toe-to-toe. “Then do me one little favor,” he encouraged softly, his head slanting slowly downward, “and return this.”
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