Page 5 of Pure Temptation in Cowboy Boots

He tried not to flinch. Tess had put her hand on his arm a million times. She’d grabbed him for various reasons, usually to inflict injury, and he’d grabbed her back. He’d held her hand when she was a little kid and they’d gone trick-or-treating, and they’d clutched each other and screamed when they rode the Twister at the state fair. Touching had never been a big deal. Until now.

“Listen, Mac,” she said. “You pulled out my first tooth, remember?”

“Different case.”

“And you taught me to drive.” She grinned. “You also gave me my first drink of whisky.”

“You begged me for it, and then you threw up.”

“And you held my head. You see, at all those important moments in my life, you were there to guide me.”

‘This is way different.”

“Not if you stop being a prude.”

“I’m not a⁠—”

“What about Donny?”

“Donny Beauford?” He snorted. “You can’t be serious.”

“Why? What’s wrong with Donny?”

Mac couldn’t say exactly, except that when he thought of Donny in an intimate embrace with Tess, his skin began to crawl. He passed a hand over his face and gazed up through the leaves of the sycamore. Finally he glanced at her. “He wouldn’t... take care of you.”

“Oh.” Her cheeks grew pink, but she faced him bravely. “You mean sexually?”

“In any way.”

“Oh. Now, see, that’s exactly what I need to know. How about Stu?”

“Oh, God, he’s worse.”

“Buck?”

“Nope.”

“I know who. Jerry.”

“Definitely not! Jerry’s a dweeb. He’d probably—” Mac thought of some raunchy revelations he’d been privy to and decided to censor them. “Never mind. Not Jerry.”

“Okay, then you make a suggestion.”

He gazed at her as the silence filled with the sound of the river and the shuffling hooves of Peppermint Patty and Charlie Brown. The horses were becoming restless in the growing heat. Moisture trickled down his back, but he didn’t think it was only the weather making him sweat. “I can’t think of anybody.” The truth was, he didn’t want to think of anybody.

“Maybe you just need some time. I caught you by surprise.”

“You certainly did that.”

‘Tell you what. Let’s postpone the discussion. Maybe we could meet for dinner tonight.”

“It’s poker night.”

“You’re right. I can’t, either. I’m playing pinochle at Joan’s. Okay, then tomorrow night.”

He decided a delay was the best he could hope for. He couldn’t imagine what would occur to him to get him out of this mess in thirty-six hours, but maybe he’d stumble onto a miracle. “I’ll meet you at the Nugget Café.” He smiled. “It’s meatloaf night.” Meatloaf night at the Nugget was one of their shared treats.

“So it is. About six?”