Tina Leonard - Tex Times Ten

“I could be a mole bidder and drive up your price,” she offered.

Did he hear revenge in her tone? “A mole bidder?”

“You know, every time someone bids, I outbid them, so that they have to bid again. Of course, I have no intention of buying you.”

Trying to ignore her obvious disinterest in him—where was the jealousy, for heaven’s sake?—Tex puffed out his chest. “How much do you figure I’m worth?”

“Ten, twenty bucks?”

His brows shot to his hairline. “Oh, come on. Be real. I’ve still got all my teeth!”

“Well, that does count for something,” she said reluctantly. “How’s your continence?”

“My what?”

“You know. Your…you know.” She gestured to his jeans.

“Oh, my continence!” he exclaimed. “I can go all night.”

“You don’t say.” Her gaze swept his jeans and then lingered a moment more. “And you’ve got a full head of hair,” she said. “I think you’ll fetch about fifty bucks. I’d bid on you,” she said with a sigh, “but I’m financially embarrassed these days, and Lord only knows I wouldn’t know what to do with you if I won you. I suppose I could put you to work in the rose garden out back. I know how much roses appeal to you, those secretive buds of romance.”

Though he knew she was tweaking him, it was getting on his nerves. He’d just kissed her. Darn it, she should be acting more…more, well, appreciative. And interested. After all, he didn’t go around kissing just any girl. In fact, he hadn’t kissed anybody in a long time. Nobody since her.

Maybe that was his problem. He was out of practice. He was taking it all too seriously. “I need a trashy girl to purchase me,” he said.

“Oh, yes, the only type for you.”

“Well, there’re reasons for that.”

She frowned at him. “Thanks for bringing me the cake, Tex. If you don’t mind, I think I’ll go to sleep now. I’ve got to work tomorrow.”

He nodded, noting the distance in her tone. “All right, Cissy. I’ll tell Hannah you’re doing fine.”

“You do that,” she said absently, turning away.

And darn it, she didn’t even seem to notice when he raised the window. Glancing at her, he realized her thoughts were somewhere else. She’d pulled some pictures from a drawer in her nightstand, but he couldn’t see what they were. Caught between bravado and bragging, he decided there was no other way to get her attention back on him.

He jumped.

Then he waited for her to look out to make certain he was in good health, his head crooked around so that he could see her expression.

She closed the window. The lace drapes fell together.

“Damn,” he said to himself, limping toward his truck. “Even superheroes get a little applause for exiting out of windows!”

But Cissy hadn’t seemed to care, much like she hadn’t seemed impressed when he’d ridden that bull to victory, twice. Only this time, he’d kissed her for real. And pulled away fast. He hadn’t been prepared for how much he wanted to have her. The feel of her beneath him all slick and compliant in that silk had made his brain pulsate with fire! He’d had to stop himself from…

He frowned. She hadn’t seemed as rocked as he had.

So then he dove out a window. “Damn,” he said again.

She was supposed to notice.

CISSY FORCED HERSELF not to fly to the window and peer out to see if Tex was okay. That lunatic! But what could a woman expect from a man well versed in the daredevil sport of bullriding?

“You are so not father material,” she muttered, swiftly flipping off the bedside lamp and going to the window to surreptitiously peek through the lace drapes. He was limping, the creep! “That’s what you get for being so desperate to avoid my kiss,” she told his retreating form. “Now you’re only worth forty bucks.”

And he wasn’t husband material, for sure—not that she was looking to mine the fields of bachelors. But Tex had proved that she’d never be able to count on him. The man broke into her bedroom and then leaped out her window.

“I can’t trust you,” she said as he drove off. “And if I need anyone in my life right now, it’s someone I can trust.”

She had a family to raise. “I can just see him teaching my kids to have a wild hair like his,” she murmured, picking up the picture once again. Her eyes clouded over as she looked at the faces of the tiny people who depended on her. Counted on her.

“I need stability in my life,” she told herself as she crawled into bed. “Stability. And someone who doesn’t call wedding cake un-wedding cake and then cut it with a hunting knife!”

Getting up, she grabbed the box off the dresser and slipped the cake under her pillow. “I’ll just ignore Mr. Superstitious’s dire warning,” she said. “It’s not like I’d dream of future husbands, anyway.”

More like she’d have nightmares. Of Tex.

“WHAT’S YOUR PROBLEM?” Mason demanded as Tex limped into the ranch’s main house. It was just the two of them living there now, and that fact alone was starting to string Tex’s nerves tight. Mason was not a pleasant roommate.

“I just turned my ankle a bit,” Tex said. “It’s nothing.”

Bandera and Navarro came in behind him, eyeing Tex as he fell into the recliner and struggled to get his boot off.

“Need help?” Bandera asked.

“Not really,” Tex said, gritting out the words. His ankle hurt more than he thought it would.

“Hang on,” Navarro said. Gently, he took hold of the boot and did his best to pull it off without hurting Tex.

“Arrgh!” Tex moaned in spite of himself.

“Where the hell have you been?” Bandera asked. “Ranger called here a while ago and said to keep an eye out for you. Said you were three sheets to the wind last night. And then you disappeared.”

“Yeah.” Tex settled into the recliner, trying not to grimace at his swollen ankle. “Hannah wanted me to check on Cissy under the guise of taking her some wedding cake. So I took a shower, sobered up and hit the road.”

“Ooh,” his three brothers said.

“What?” Tex said, sitting up. “What does ‘ooh’ mean?”

“Cissy did that to you,” Bandera said.

“Not exactly.” But Tex didn’t feel like sharing more of the story than that.

The phone rang, and Mason swept it up. “Hello?” He listened for a few moments, then said, “Yes. The superhero made it home fine. Thanks for calling.” Hanging up the phone, Mason put on a fake nonchalant expression. “That was Miss Cissy Kisserton,” he said, torturing Tex just a little. “She says you took a flying leap out of her bedroom window.”

“Ooh,” his other two brothers said.

Tex closed his eyes.

“Fear of intimacy,” Navarro pronounced.

“And Ranger’s Curse of the Broken Body Parts has gotten to Tex,” Bandera stated. “Just look at him all laid up like that.”

“What bullcorn,” Mason said. “What a pile of hockey pucks.”

“It’s all over but the crying,” Bandera said.

“Yeah, Tex crying,” Navarro agreed. “We’re going to have to listen to the wedding bell blues until the blood goes on the marriage certificate.”

“All right. Enough,” Tex said crossly. “I’m afraid you have all overstated the importance of a slightly tweaked ankle.”

“Looks purple to me,” Mason observed, “for a slight tweak. Think I’ll ring the doc and ask him what to do for a broken ankle.”

“Broken!” Tex leaned up to stare at his appendage. “It’s not broken.”

“You jumped out a woman’s second-story window,” Bandera said in disbelief, shaking his head. “The shame of it!”

Navarro blinked. “I’ve never heard of a Jefferson male breaking his own ankle to escape a woman.”