Blame It on Texas (32 page)

Tyler dropped onto the sofa, tossed the two bags of frozen vegetables beside him, and raked himself over the coals for doing it again. He heard her moving around the kitchen preparing him a sandwich and he inwardly moaned. He had zero willpower where she was concerned. Zilch!

Less than five minutes in the room with her, and he found himself trying to get closer, and then… touching her. Why? Logic said to pull back. He’d made up his mind that it was the best thing for both of them. Damn, maybe he couldn’t do this. Lucky landed in his lap. Tyler looked at the cat and gave the animal a scratch under the chin.

Maybe he should call Austin, have him take over. As soon as the thought flipped through his brain, he rejected it with a big, “Hell, no!” He wasn’t putting her in the hands of Mr. Playboy. The man didn’t even like her cat.

Tyler stared Lucky in his one good eye. “You got an opinion?”

Lucky meowed and jumped off the sofa.

Tyler leaned his head back, closed his eyes.

She’d said “no,” so he didn’t get why he continued to make advances. In the past, when he made up his mind to do something, he did it. Make a plan and stick to it. What was different this time? That’s when it hit him. It wasn’t
all
his fault. She sent him mixed messages—those sweet smiles, the teasing remarks, the way she moved up close to put a bag of frozen peas on his cheek. Not that she did
it on purpose. She was just instinctively nice. Sweet. Sexy. He remembered how she’d moved so close and held the peas to his face, how her breasts felt against his chest. He felt her nipples tighten, then saw her eyes widen as if realizing their proximity. Obviously, she had as hard of a time not touching him as he had not touching her.

So what did that mean?

It meant if he persisted, he might end up getting what he wanted. Her naked in bed. Him naked with her. His mind created the image of her jumping on the bed wet and nude. Moaning aloud, he reached for the frozen vegetables and dropped them on top of his stiffening crotch.

He didn’t want this to be something she’d do and regret.

“Here,” she said.

His eyes shot open. She held out a plate with a sandwich neatly cut into halves.

“Those veggies aren’t going to do any good in your lap,” she said.

They might.
He took the plate and set it on his lap before she made him move the cold compress from between his legs. Unsure what to say, he grabbed half of the sandwich.

His teeth sank into the soft white bread, then tasted… Not ham, or cheese, or turkey. What the hell was it?

He cut his eyes up, moving the hearty bite of bread and something unidentifiable and gooey into his cheek. “What kind of sandwich is this?”

“Banana and mayo,” she answered. “You don’t like it?” A frown pulled at her mouth.

“No, it’s… fine.” He couldn’t seem to bring the lump of food out from his cheek.

“I tried to ask, but you said you weren’t picky.”

“I’m not.” He told his taste buds to stop rebelling. He liked bananas and didn’t hate mayo on a normal sandwich. But who the hell ate banana sandwiches?

“It might be an Alabama thing.” She answered his question without his even asking it. “You don’t have to eat it.”

“No, it’s good.” He managed to chew the bite and swallow it. Hurting her feelings held less appeal than eating the nasty fruit sandwich.

She grinned. “You don’t like it.”

“It’s not that. I just… never ate one before.”

She chuckled. “Eating should not be a painful experience. And you looked as if you were in pain.”

“Not pain. It’s just an acquired taste, and I’m acquiring it.” He raised the sandwich.

“Please.” She grabbed the plate.

He frowned. “Give it back.”

“No.” She laughed. She tried to take the piece of sandwich between his fingers, but he stuffed it in his mouth.

She laughed, moved in front of him, and put the plate under his face. “Just spit it out.”

He met her laughing blue eyes and felt something twist in his gut. Why did she have to be so damn pretty, so damn refreshing?

“Spit!” she said.

He grinned, shook his head, and tried to shut off his tastes buds.

“You’re crazy, you know that?” she said.

Yeah, he was. He was loco over her. And he didn’t do crazy. Where was the logical Tyler Lopez?

“Not everything is logical, Tyler. You’re so smart, you try to analyze everything. But emotions can’t be analyzed.”
His sister’s words rang through his head. And went straight to his solar plexus.

But then Zoe’s grin widened and her eyes glittered with humor, and he made up his mind. He’d get himself in check later; now he just wanted to see her smile.

“Fine, punish yourself and eat it. But it’s not going to matter a hill of beans either way.”

At that point it didn’t matter what it meant to her; he did it to make her smile. It replaced the shadows of hurt he’d seen in her eyes five minutes ago with laughter. Sweet-to-the-soul kind of laughter. Hell, she could make him another one and he’d choke it down.

She took the plate with the other half of the sandwich on it and went into the kitchen, but she was chuckling the whole way. And he watched that beautiful backside sway side to side with each step. The memory of her bare bottom when she’d turned to ward off Bud rushed back. He tucked the frozen vegetables deeper into his lap.

A minute later, before the cold had taken the edge off his hard-on in the making, she came to the doorway of the kitchen. “Will a ham sandwich be better?”

“I’m fine.”

“You afraid you won’t like it, either?” She giggled.

He grinned. “Fine, make the sandwich.” And right after he ate it, he was going to take a cold shower.

Shortly later, Zoe sat beside Tyler on the sofa as he ate the sandwich with obvious pleasure. She tucked away the info that Tyler didn’t like banana sandwiches. Then it hit. She didn’t need to collect data on him, because he wasn’t going to be around that long. But they had two weeks, give or take a few days. And she wanted them.

All she had to do was figure out how to move things along in that direction. She really shouldn’t have backed away from him in the kitchen, and she wouldn’t next time. While she told herself she should be able to just come out and say, “Let’s have sex,” she couldn’t see herself being that bold.

He set the plate on the coffee table. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She leaned a bit closer and remembered what she’d told herself she needed to tell him—something safer than having sex. “Uh, Dixie came to see me today.”

“Did someone else call or come looking for you?”

“No. She just wanted to stop in and make sure I was okay.”

He frowned. “She doesn’t like me.”

“She doesn’t know you like I do,” Zoe said.

Her words seemed to cause him to flinch.

“You tell her everything, did you?”

Zoe explained exactly what she told Dixie, and when she finished, he leaned forward.

“Good.” His gaze met hers, and he said, “I think I’ll call it a night.” He popped up.

“But it’s early,” she said.

“I think I’ll read.”

“Why don’t… we could play Scrabble.”

His gaze tightened. “Scrabble?”

“I saw the game in the hall closet.”

His brow creased with a frown that didn’t quite go to his lips. “I’m not the best person to play Scrabble with.”

“Why, you’re not any good at it?” she baited him.

“No. I’m good, it’s just…”

She recalled what else he’d said he was good at. “Super, I’m pretty good at it, too.”

His brows tightened again. “People hate playing word games with me.”

“Why, because you’re too smart?” She arched an eyebrow.

“Yeah.” He looked uncomfortable admitting it. She knew exactly how he felt, too. And she realized another thing they had in common. “What was your score?”

“At Scrabble?” he asked.

“No, IQ.”

He hesitated. “A hundred and eighty.”

“Hmm, then maybe you don’t want to play with me.” She saw doubt in his eyes.

“What was your score?” he asked.

She decided not to lie. “Officially, it was a hundred and seventy, but—”

“I’m impressed,” he said.

“But I purposely missed several questions.”

He reared back on the heels of his shoes and studied her.

She retrieved the Scrabble game from the closet.

“Why?” He watched her open the box. When she set aside the black cloth bag that held the letters, she met his gaze. He stepped closer. “Was it because you didn’t want people to treat you like a freak?”

She pulled out the board. She considered just agreeing with him because he was partially correct—she had learned early on that being smart set her apart from most of the other kids. But that wasn’t the whole story.

She took in a breath. “That and because I didn’t want to be that different from my parents.” She realized how that might have sounded, and she added, “They weren’t slow, they were normal. I already had so many differences from them. My hair, my eye color, my body structure.”

She sat down on the sofa and unfolded the board. “I think, deep down, I already knew all this and didn’t want any more evidence thrown in my face.” When she looked up, she saw the serious expression on his face and didn’t want the mood to go there.

She slapped her hand on top of her knees. “What do you say? One game?” And a little more time to convince him to make a move on her.

She saw the answer flash in his eyes. He was going to turn her down. Her chest ached, and she knew if he walked away from her now, she wouldn’t get the courage to do this. She’d talk herself out of it.

“We could make it interesting… put a wager on the table.” She smiled.

“I thought you were broke.”

Her gut tightened. “Okay, let’s make it really interesting.” She saw puzzlement in his eyes. Before she realized what she intended to say, she’d said it. “Let’s wager our clothes.” Feeling her cheeks grow hot, she looked down and fiddled with the wooden shelves that held the letters. She could feel him staring. What the hell had she done?

She waited for him to laugh at her.

“Strip Scrabble?” His voice sounded deeper than before.

“Yup.” Still not looking up, the embarrassment spread all the way to her toes.

She heard him mutter something under his breath. He sat in the leather chair across the coffee table. “I did warn you that I’m good at it, right?”

She forced herself to look up. “As did I.”

Their eyes met, her heart raced, and she offered him the black bag. “Let’s see who goes first.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

“H
ELP A GUY OUT
. Give me her number,” Rick said into his cell phone as he sat on his bed. He couldn’t stop thinking about Ellen. He went back and forth between the kiss to the tears in her eyes when she drove off.

“My wife will kill me,” Tony said. “She wants you to stay away from Ellen.”

“Why would she…?” Was that why Ellen was so adamant about not going out with him? Tony’s wife was bad-mouthing him. “What did she tell Ellen about me?”

“Hell, I don’t know. But you can’t blame LeAnn. You don’t have a good record.”

“It’s my fault that women treat me like shit? That Candy took my kid away?”

“No, but it’s your fault for picking the wrong women. The only women you’ve ever brought around LeAnn have either been strippers or dressed like they were. What the hell does that say about you? And when you’re not dating some skank, you’re bad-mouthing women in general. You come off like a bastard.”

“She took my kid.”

“Yeah, and it’s a raw deal. But can’t you see that if you’d found someone halfway decent to have a kid with, this wouldn’t have happened?”

“I wanted to help her.” Rick rubbed his forehead. For all Candy’s flaws, he’d loved her.

“I know. That’s your problem. You’ve got a thing for women in trouble. And if they’re a little slutty, you fall twice as hard. Not that slutty is all bad, but you know what I mean.” Tony chuckled as if to make light of the situation.

But there was nothing light about it. “Okay, fine. You’re right. I’ve got a problem picking women. And hell, maybe LeAnn was right to warn Ellen about me, but this isn’t about a hookup.” Then he remembered the kiss and how soft she’d felt in his arms. But he didn’t want to call Ellen to talk about the kiss; he wanted to apologize. Ellen knew all about being a parent, and he needed someone he could go to. He was afraid he might have ruined that.

“I’m not stupid, Rick.”

“It’s about Ricky.” He hadn’t mentioned any of this to Tony, because he was scared Tony would say that it was his fault, just like he’d always done. And hell, maybe Tony was right, but damn it, Rick was trying to do the right thing now.

It wasn’t too late. Hopefully.

“What about Ricky?” Tony asked.

“I got a court date next week for full custody. My lawyer said I needed to show the judge I was serious. I need help, Tony. And Ellen’s a mom. She met me for dinner tonight, helping me figure out the whole parenting thing.”

“Why didn’t you ask for LeAnn’s help?”

He almost said because she didn’t have kids, but Rick
remembered that LeAnn and Tony had lost their baby. LeAnn probably knew a thing or two, but… “She doesn’t like me, Tony. I’m not saying I blame her, but it’s the truth. Help me out here.”

“You’re my best friend, and my partner, I’d take a bullet for you, but what you’re asking will get my ass in trouble with my wife.”

“If the question comes up about where I got her number, I’ll tell her that I’m a cop and can get anything. Come on, do me this one favor.”

Tyler reached into the bag to grab a letter. What kind of game was she playing? And he didn’t mean Strip Scrabble. He meant the game she was playing with him. Was this her way of saying yes to his two-week proposal? He almost said, let’s skip the game and go to the bedroom. But he spotted a flicker of nervousness in her gaze. If this was how she wanted it to go… Hell, Strip Scrabble had to be fun.

He pulled out an
H
. Eight out of twenty-five, the odds were in his favor for being first. He’d have her naked and in his arms before she could say double-word score.