Linda Lael - McKettricks of Texas - Austin

She drew another deep breath, mentally untangled herself from the past. As best she could.

They’d gotten together by accident, in the beginning— Tate and Libby were going to a movie one Friday night, and, grudgingly, Tate had brought his younger brother along. Paige had gotten the impression that their parents had insisted, and if Tate had refused, it would have been a deal breaker.

Paige had been curled up in an armchair reading a book when Austin turned that fabled charm on her, grinned and asked if she’d like to go to a movie.

After that, she and Austin had been as inseparable as Libby and Tate.

Paige had thought he was playing some game at first, but after a few months, they were a couple. After a year, Paige was on the pill, and they were making love.

Yes, she’d been in love with Austin. She’d lost—okay, given— her virginity to him, along with her trust and, of course, her heart.

Ultimately, he’d betrayed her.

But all that had happened just over ten years ago, before his folks, Jim and Sally McKettrick, were killed in that awful car accident, before her own dad had died of cancer. So very much had happened in the interim and, well, Paige was tired of holding a grudge.

“You were having a bad dream before?” Austin asked presently.

“Huh?” Paige said.

“When I woke you up a little while ago?”

“Yes,” she answered, smiling a little. “Thanks for that.”

He grinned, making the pit of her stomach quiver for a moment, then reached for his can of beer. Raised it slightly in an offhand toast. “Anytime,” he said.

The dog whimpered, chasing something in his sleep. Or running away from something.

“Shep,” Austin said, nudging the animal gently with the toe of one boot. “Easy, now. You’re all right.”

Paige looked down at Shep. “A stray?”

Austin grinned again. This time, there was no smart-ass edge to his tone. “What gave him away? The matted coat? The dirt, maybe?”

“The poor thing could use a bath,” Paige admitted. She’d always had a soft spot for animals—especially the abused, neglected and unwanted ones.

“Garrett promised to hose him down before supper,” Austin said. The way he spoke, it was no big deal.

Paige met his gaze, puzzled and not a little annoyed. “Supper’s a ways off,” she pointed out.

“He’ll keep,” Austin told her. “Won’t you, Shep?”

Paige glanced at her watch. She still had more than an hour before she was due to pick Calvin up in town, at day care. Although she was a nurse by profession, she was between jobs at the moment, as well as between homes. Since Julie was practically meeting herself coming and going these days, between getting ready for the big wedding, holding down her teaching job at the high school and directing the student musical production, Paige had been looking after her nephew a lot lately.

Since she adored Calvin, it was no hardship.

She stood. “I’ll do it,” she said.

“Do what?” Austin asked.

“Bathe the dog,” Paige answered, proud of herself for not adding, since you can’t be bothered to do the job yourself.

“I told you,” Austin said, frowning. “Garrett will take care of Shep when he gets home.”

“No sense in putting it off,” Paige said, feeling sorry for the critter.

Shep hauled himself to his feet, watching her with a combination of wariness and hope. His tail swished tentatively to one side, then the other.

And Paige’s heart warmed and softened, like so much beeswax.

She crouched, looked straight into the dog’s limpid brown eyes.

“I wouldn’t hurt you,” she said very gently. “Not for the world.”

Shep wagged again, this time with more trust, more spirit.

“Paige,” Austin interjected cautiously, “he’s sort of wild and he probably hasn’t had his shots—”

Paige put out a hand, let Shep sniff her fingers and palm and wrist.

She felt something akin to exultation when he didn’t retreat. “Nonsense,” she said. “He’s a sweetheart. Aren’t you, Shep?”

She straightened, saw that Austin was standing, too. If it hadn’t been for the dog, the man would practically have been on top of her. So to speak.

Heat pulsed in her cheeks.

Something mischievous and far too knowing danced in Austin’s eyes. He folded his arms and tilted his head to one side, watching her. She had no clue what he was thinking, and that was even more unsettling.

In order to break the spell, Paige turned and headed for the main part of the house, moving resolutely.

She felt a little zing of triumph when she glanced back and saw the dog hesitate, then fall into step behind her.

* * *

AUSTIN COULDN’T REALLY blame the dog for trailing after Paige—watching that perfect blue-jeaned backside of hers as she walked away left him with little choice but to do likewise. Still, it stung his pride that Shep hadn’t waited for him.

Whose dog was he, anyhow?

Paige’s apparently. She led the way, like some piper in a fairy tale, with Shep padding right along in her wake, and that was how the three of them ended up in the laundry room, off the kitchen.

Paige knew her way around—she rustled up some old towels and the special mutt shampoo Julie kept around for Harry—and started the water running in one of the big sinks. She spooled out the hand-sprayer and pressed the squirter with a practiced thumb, testing the temperature against the underside of her left wrist.

The sight, ordinary as it was, did something peculiar to Austin.

“Well,” Paige said, dropping her gaze to the dog and then letting it fly back to Austin’s face, “don’t just stand there. Hoist Shep up into the sink so I can wash him.” She smiled at Shep. “You’re going to feel so much better, once you’ve had your bath,” she assured the critter.

Austin had his pride. He wasn’t about to tell this woman that he’d blown out his back and couldn’t risk lifting one skinny dog off the floor because he might wind up in traction or something.

He leaned down and carefully looped his arms under Shep’s belly. Set him gently in the laundry sink.

Paige introduced Shep to the sprayer with a few little blasts of warm water, and gave him time to sort out how he felt about the experience.

Austin, meanwhile, was just about to congratulate himself on getting away with lifting the dog when he felt a stabbing ache in the same part of his back as when he’d had to be half carried out of Pinky’s bar last month. He drew in a sharp breath and grasped the edge of the long counter, where the housekeeper, Esperanza, usually folded sheets and towels.

Steady, he thought. Wait it out.

Paige, preoccupied with sluicing down the dog and apparently oblivious to the way the water was soaking the front of her skimpy T-shirt, paid Austin no attention at all. And that was fine by him, mostly.

The spasm in Austin’s back intensified, a giant charley horse that he couldn’t walk off like one in his calf or the arch of his foot. He bit down hard on his lower lip and shut his eyes.

“Austin?” Paige’s voice had changed. It was soft, worried-sounding. “Is something wrong? You’re sort of pale and—”

Austin shook his head. The spasm was beginning to subside, though it still hurt like holy-be-Jesus, but talking was beyond him.

He wouldn’t risk meeting her gaze. Back when they were just kids and hot and heavy into dating, Paige had shown a disturbing ability to read his mind—not to mention his soul—through his eyes.

Not that she’d been infallible in that regard.

Or maybe, when it really counted, she’d been too mad to look long enough, hard enough.

“I’m—fine,” he finally said. The pain was letting up.