Karen Kelley - How to Seduce a Texan

Brian’s face turned a deep shade of red. “Well, that, too, but there really was a ghost. Why do you think I quit sneaking up there?”

“You’re saying I should confirm your story with Wanda Jo?” Cal raised his eyebrows.

Brian shook his head. “No way. She married Wayne Harris and I don’t want to cross paths with him.”

“Ape Man Harris?” He tried to visualize Wanda Jo with Ape Man. Nope, it just wasn’t coming to him.

“Yeah, a couple of years ago. I thought I told you about it.”

Cal tossed his empty beer bottle into the trash can and they started walking toward the ranch.

“No, you didn’t mention it. I don’t blame you for wanting to keep your distance. Is Ape Man still as ugly as he used to be?”

“Uglier.”

“Why the hell did Wanda Jo marry him?”

Brian paused for a moment, looking thoughtful. “He has big hands?”

Cal’s forehead wrinkled; then he started to laugh. He didn’t stop until they were near the back door of the ranch.

“Yeah, Wanda Jo liked…big hands, didn’t she? Is that why she dumped you?”

Brian grinned. “Compared to Ape Man? No one’s hands even come close.”

There were some good things about being back on the ranch, too. For just a few minutes, it had seemed as though the years between them were gone. When Cal looked up, he could almost see Grandma at the door holding a plate of cookies and smiling like she always did.

“You boys wash your hands and you can have some of the cookies I just took out of the oven.” She wiped her hands on her apron.

And then she faded away.

Some things you couldn’t bring back-all you had were the precious memories-but maybe some things could grow stronger. Like his relationship with Brian. It had felt good to cut up with him. They’d each gone their own ways after college.

Before he stepped inside the house, he glanced toward the cabin that was hidden from view by tall pecan and oak trees. Yeah, it wasn’t so bad to come back home.

Nikki didn’t like washing down a PB &J with water, but that’s all she had. What she wouldn’t give to have an ice-cold glass of milk.

At least her stomach wasn’t growling anymore. Not exactly five-star cuisine. This was definitely roughing it.

After brushing the crumbs off her hands, she went to her car and retrieved her suitcases from the trunk. She wanted to have most of her things inside before it got too dark.

A shiver of dread ran down her spine. Staying in the middle of nowhere by herself at night didn’t hold a bit of appeal. At least in the city, she knew what to expect. This country quiet was more than a little unnerving.

She carried her cases inside and set them down in front of the bedroom door. Hadn’t she left it open? Apparently not, or it would still be open. Her short laugh was supposed to reassure her, but it came off sounding a little cracked. There were no such things as ghosts. Cal had probably shut the door when he left and she hadn’t noticed.

But after she opened it, she stood there for a moment looking around before she picked up her cases and went inside. Of course the room was empty. Really, what had she expected? A ghost to jump out and scream, “Boo!”?

But it still didn’t stop the cold inside the room from washing over her-a damp, muggy feeling.

“I’m really losing it,” she muttered.

She carried the cases over to the bed and set them down, then sniffed.

What was that smell? She sniffed again. It smelled like apple pie. She closed her eyes and inhaled a little deeper. Nice. Just as quickly she opened them, realizing just how ridiculous she was being.

This was what happened when she didn’t take off time from work. The next time she spoke to Marge, Nikki was going to tell her she wanted a real vacation and she didn’t care what her parents thought. She was a big girl.

The bedroom didn’t look too bad. She’d removed the two sheets that had protected the mattress from dust. There was bedding in one of the boxes. It took her only a few minutes to make the antique iron bed. It looked comfortable, almost cozy.

Whatever she had to tell herself.

She glanced at her watch. Almost seven. The evening stretched before her. Boredom had never been a problem. She always had an invitation to go to a party or something. Friends, good wine, good food-her nights would stretch into the wee hours of the morning.

She glanced at her watch again. Three and a half minutes had passed.

So now what did she do? Unpack?

There was an armoire, and when she cautiously looked inside, she found hangers. No critters. But when she opened her suitcases, she realized she’d brought all the wrong clothes. She had two pair of slacks that would work, but she was afraid the dresses and her loungewear wouldn’t do at all. She certainly didn’t want to ruin the expensive clothes she’d worked hard to buy. Maybe the last town she’d driven through would have something more suitable.

She sat on the side of the bed, the energy suddenly draining from her. What was she doing out here? Really. Was she chasing after a story or a man-or something more? Sometimes she felt as though her life wasn’t complete. Which was crazy. She’d traveled all over the world; she had an exciting job; she dated, went to lots of parties.

It was because she was almost thirty. That had to be it. She was getting old.

Enough! She wasn’t getting old; her biological clock could tick all it wanted because she wasn’t keen on having kids or getting married anytime soon, if ever. She stood and quickly went back to unpacking.

Why the hell was she even thinking like this? Hormones? No, that was over last week. Allergies? Maybe she was allergic to all this country air. That had to be it. Once she was back in the city, she wouldn’t have time to be morose.

She closed the suitcases after unpacking what she thought she could use, then stuck them under the bed before wandering to the front porch. The rocker looked safe enough. She dusted it off, then gingerly sat in it and gave a gentle push with her foot. At least it didn’t collapse beneath her.

Silence.

No, there was another sound. The rumble of a pickup. She stayed where she was as the sound grew closer. Then the pickup came around the corner, headlights glaring at her.

Excitement made her heart beat faster, but she kept her seat. Outwardly, she knew she looked calm. She watched as the pickup came to a stop.

Cal.

He killed the engine and got out, then reached in the back. Her gaze moved south. She liked the way his jeans stretched taut over his backside.

Nice. Very nice.

He turned, grasping an ice chest by the end handles. “Your block of ice. I brought some perishables, too. They’re in the back.”

She had a feeling that meant she was supposed to carry them inside. His gallantry took her breath away.

Not that it made that much difference. Her parents had always taught her to carry her own weight. Even though they had plenty of money, she had her own chores when she was growing up. It didn’t bother her a bit to carry in the other box. She was not a frail female-well, unless there were wild critters around.

She grabbed the open box, glancing at the contents as she carried it inside the cabin. Butcher paper. Meat? Probably. Catsup, mustard, and mayo. No butter. No eggs. She frowned. Eggs would’ve been nice. Butter, too. Surely it couldn’t be that hard to cook an egg.

Cal was just putting the block of ice in the box when she walked inside the kitchen.

“If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you in the morning.” He started back through the cabin.

“You’re leaving?” She set her box on the table. “Right now?”

He stopped on the porch and studied her. She could feel her nipples tightening as his gaze slowly caressed her.