Falling For A Cowboy (11 page)

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Authors: Anne Carrole

BOOK: Falling For A Cowboy
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Standing there
,
with a grin the size of a Pecos canyon
,
stood Clay
.
Whitey barked and squirmed in her arms
.
Heaven help her
. S
he wasn

t fit for any company much less the handsome cowboy on the other side of the door. She set Whitey down for a minute and began to finger comb her hair as she bit down on her lip to give it some color. Damn.


Dusty, it

s me. Clay.


I

ll be right with you
,
Clay.

She side-stepped to the mirror near the door and prayed he wouldn

t
peek
in
.
Why hadn

t she kept her trim appointment at the
Classy and Sassy Hair
Salon yesterday?
She looked like the bride of Frankenstein.
A brush
?
She pulled one from
her
large
leather
purse sitting on the nearby table
.
He always commented
on
her hair.

H
er cell phone chirp
ed
from the bottom of her bag. So
meone had called. It wouldn

t have been Clay
.
S
he hadn

t given him her number
.
She pinched her cheeks for color and fumbled for a lipstick while Whitey attempted to bring down the house with his barking.


Are you going to answer the door?

Clay yelled
over the noise
.

She swiped on the lipstick and smoothed out her sweats
.
They were so big on her it looked like they

d swallowed her whole.
It couldn

t be helped
.
Maybe he

d get so turned off by the sight of her, he

d give up
.
And why she cared
,
she wouldn

t examine.

Picking
up
the dog
again
, she
opened the door
to the
sultry
heat of a West Texas summer day
.
S
ix feet of gorgeous cowboy
greeted her
. Those blue eyes of his glimmered in the sunlight like
the
water
of the
Mediterranean
Sea
. He wasn

t wearing his hat
. Thick and shiny,
a lock of wavy brown hair
fell over one brow giving him a
bad-boy
look.
He

d braced a well-muscled arm
against the side of the doorway
stretching his
white T-shirt
over his chest
to
reveal every plane, curve
,
and crevice
.
His
denims
hugged
thighs used to clinging to a horse and
his
bedroom eyes
looked
her over from head to toe
. H
er insides turned the consistency of oatmeal. Whitey quieted
,
as if he was too interested in the sight before him to worry about protecting
anyone
.


Cute puppy
,

Clay said, nodding toward the dog
.
Recognizing he was the center of attention, Whitey started barking again
,
but this time the yips were half-hearted.

Clay held out a hand for the dog to sniff
.
Whitey obliged and gave
Clay

s
hand a quick lick
with his tiny pink tongue
.
Some protector.


He

s not a puppy
.
Whitey

s
almost ten
.


You mean that

s as big as he gets?


Yep.

Like me.

Clay gave Whitey

s head a
gentle
pat and rubbed his ears to
her dog

s
evident delight
.

Friendly
little thing.


Sometimes.
What are you doing here, Clay
?

And how did you find me?
She
held Whitey closer to her chest and waited for his answer.

He graced her with a lopsided smile.

I

ve a favor to ask of you
.
Can I come in
?

L
etting a strange man into her house hardly seemed the smart thing to do, but
her gut wasn

t sending her any negative signals.
Besides she was curious what he was doing here
.
At her house.
On a Friday night.


Tara
Lynn
said she

d call ahead
,

Clay prompted.

That explained her beeping cell phone
.
W
hy hadn

t
Tara
Lynn
just called the house
?
Because she wanted Dusty to be surprised
?
Sometimes
Tara
Lynn
tested
their friendship something awful.


She must have tried my cell phone. Come on in.

Dusty moved aside as Whitey wriggled to get down
.
Probably wanted to sniff Clay all over.
Dusty couldn

t blame him
.
Scents of sandalwood and leather gre
e
ted her as she
moved
aside and
set
Whitey on the floor
.
Clay stepped in and t
rue to form the dog began sniffing
at the man

s black croc
odile
boots
.

She closed the door behind him and when she turned around, there was Whitey nestled snugly in Clay

s arms
,
licking his face.
Traitor.


I

m not that familiar with small dogs
,
but I can see why people like them.

Clay nodded at the white ball of fluff.


Yeah.
He

s a prince,

Dusty said, motioning Clay toward the sofa.
She was glad
she hadn

t had much time to trash the place since her
mother

s departure
on Wednesday. It still carried Deidre Morgan

s tidy stamp.

Clay
sauntered forward
, moving with an animal

s grace
.
His tall form made her feel small
and
the room
even
smaller
.
It had been a while since a man had sat among the delicate la
ce and
floral
prints that
fille
d their living room
.
Even when her father had been alive, he

d seemed out of place amid the feminine decorations her mother favored
.
But he

d never said a word against them
.
He

d always noticed
a new doodad her mother had added to her burgeoning collection of knickknacks, always
made a point to tell
her how good it was to be home with his girls.

The flowered
cushions plump
ed
around
Clay as he settled onto the sofa
.
Whitey nestled
i
n his lap, right there in the man

s crotch, like it was the most natural thing in the world
.


He seems to have taken right to you
,

Dusty said as she sat in
a
large wing chair covered in pink and green chintz
.
She couldn

t keep the wonder out of her voice.

Clay

s expression was one of mild amusement.

More than I can say for his mistress.

She leveled her gaze at him.

So what bring
s
you here
,
Clay
?

Remembering her manners, she added,

And can I get you something to drink
?

He shook his head.

No. Not yet at least.

He shifted in his seat and petted the dog as if reluctant to answer her question. She waited, watching the gentle way his hand floated over her tiny, comfortable dog
.
She

d be comfortable too
,
snuggled
up against him like that
.
Mustn

t let her
thoughts
go
in that direction. Not here, alone
with him
in the house.


Where

s Jesse?

She realized she should have asked that right off
.

Is he all right?

Clay nodded
.

He will be. Turns out he did break
a
rib
,
but nothing else.


I

m glad you talked him into being x-rayed.


Wasn

t me
.
I

ve never been able to
talk
a lick of sense into him
.
My mother read him the riot act. Few can deny
Kate
Tanner when she sets her mind to
something
.

His smile was broad and his eyes
danced
at the mention of his mother
.
She imagined
the woman had to be a pistol
with a son like Clay
.
He wouldn

t have been an easy boy to
raise
.
No doubt
he

d been
f
ull of mischief and manipulative as the devil.

She also isn

t let
ting
him out of her sight
.
He

s back home mending.
He sends
his
regards.

She
refused to
ask
Clay
a
gain what he
was doing here
.
She

d already done that twice
.
So she waited. He continued to pet the dog
. Whitey
looked like he was ready to go to sleep in his new haven.

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