I haven’t been held like this in months. Maybe years. Someone grounding me. Someone smelling like home.
Someone who remembers the girl I used to be.
For a moment, my arms stay frozen at my sides. Then they lift on instinct and settle lightly on his waist. His body is firm under his shirt.
Heat radiates through the fabric and right through me.
What the hell is happening?
Before I can even start forming an answer in my own mind, pounding footsteps hit the stairs.
Clara bursts into the hallway in nothing but a towel with one heel raised like a weapon.
“Sedona, what happened?” she shouts.
I jerk back from Tex, cheeks burning. Boone trots toward Clara, eager and clueless.
She stops when her eyes land on Tex. Total disbelief spreads across her face. “Who the hell is that?”
My face goes hotter. I can feel it. A flush spreads up my neck, and I step back from Tex so fast Boone bumps into me.
“This is Tex Carson,” I say.
Tex tips his head politely. “Ma’am.”
“And Tex, this is Clara.”
Clara blinks like she needs a second to process the fact that a cowboy, one that looks like the epitome of every country song ever, is standing in our kitchen.
Tex kneels to whistle at Boone. The dog sprints to him instantly and bumps his head against Tex’s palm like he was waiting for that signal.
Tex rises again and pushes his hair back with a rough sweep of his fingers. “Didn’t know you were in town,” he says to me.
“I… just got here,” I manage.
He nods once, then glances around the kitchen. “I was driving home. Saw the car parked out front. Town’s had a run of squatters lately, so I stopped by.”
“It’s just silly old me,” I say without thinking.
A smirk touches his mouth. “Yeah.” Then something shifts in his posture. The humor drains from his eyes. He lowers his voice. “I guess you’re here for the funeral.”
Heat drains from my face and settles into a heavy ache behind my ribs. I nod slowly.
“Yeah,” I say.
His jaw ticks once. “I’m really sorry for your loss.”
“Thank you.”
Those words feel too small for the moment, but they are all I have. Boone nudges my leg like he senses the change in the air.
Tex lets his gaze travel between me and Clara. His expression settles into something thoughtful, maybe even protective.
“I’ll let you get to it,” he says. “See you around.”
He turns away. His boots scrape the floor softly as he walks. My eyes betray me and follow the curve of his back.
The vest pulls tight when he reaches the doorway. His shoulders stretch the fabric with an easy strength. Then my gaze drops.
