Читать книгу Totally Texan - Mary Lynn Baxter - Страница 6

Grant Wilcox had just stepped out of his truck when Harvey Tipton, the postmaster, walked out of the Sip ’n Snack coffee shop.

Harvey greeted Grant with a grin through his scruffy beard and mustache. “Hey, about to take a look-see, huh? Or maybe I should say another one.”

Grant gave him a perplexed look. “What are you talking about?”

“The new piece in town.”

Grant made a face. “I’m assuming you’re referring to the new woman in town, right?”

“Right,” Harvey responded, with his head bobbing up and down, his grin still in place. He obviously saw no reason to be ashamed or to make an apology for his unflattering terminology. “She’s running the shop for Ruth.”

Of all people to run into, Grant groaned inwardly; Harvey was the town’s most prolific gossip. And the fact that he was a man made it worse.

Grant shrugged. “That’s news to me, but then I haven’t been in for coffee in a while.”

“When you see her you’ll regret that.”

“I doubt it,” Grant said wryly.

“I didn’t figure you for dead yet, Wilcox.”

“Give me a break, will you?” Grant was irritated and didn’t bother to hide the fact.

“Well, she’s a stunner,” Harvey declared. “Heads above anyone else around here.”

“So why are you telling me?” Grant asked in a bored tone, hoping Harvey would take the hint.

Harvey gave him a conspiratorial grin. “Thought maybe you might be interested, since you’re the only one around here without a wife or significant other.” He slapped Grant on the shoulder and widened his grin. “If you know what I mean.”

For a second Grant wanted to flatten the postmaster’s nose, but of course he didn’t. Harvey wasn’t the only one who had tried to play matchmaker for him.

Sure, he’d like a hot-blooded, feisty woman to occupy his bed on occasion, but the thought of anything permanent made him break into a chill. For the first time ever, life was good—especially in the small town of Lane, Texas. As a forester, Grant was doing what he loved and that was playing in the woods, cutting trees that would eventually earn him a ton of money.

More than that, he wasn’t ready to settle down. With his roaming past, he never knew when the itch to move might strike; then where would he be? Trapped. Nope, that wasn’t for him, at least not now.

“So want me to go back in and introduce you?” Harvey asked into the silence, following with a deep belly laugh.

Grant gritted his teeth and said, “Thanks, Harv, but I can take care of myself when it comes to women.” He pointedly looked at his watch. “I’m sure you have customers waiting for you.”

Harvey winked. “Gotcha.”

Yet once the postmaster was out of sight, Grant found himself walking a bit faster toward the entrance to the Sip ’n Snack.

Kelly Baker scrubbed her hands hard in the hot, sudsy water, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. She had been putting pastries in the front counter and was convinced she had goo up to her elbows.

Since she’d been in this small country town of Lane—three weeks now—she’d asked herself over and over if she’d truly lost her mind. She knew the answer, though, and it was no. Her cousin, Ruth Perry, had needed help, and Kelly had come to the rescue, just as Ruth had come to hers following the tragic event that had changed her life forever.

“Ouch,” Kelly mumbled, feeling a stinging sensation in her hands. Jerking them out of the water, she grabbed a towel, then frowned as she looked at her fingers. Gone were the long, beautifully manicured nails and the soft skin she was once so proud of. Now, her hands looked all dried and pruney, as if she kept them constantly immersed. She did, even though she had two daytime helpers, Albert and Doris.

Another sigh followed as Kelly looked around the empty coffee shop, picturing how it would look in a short time. It would be teeming with people. She smiled to herself at the word teeming. That term hardly fit this tiny town.

Still, who was she to make fun? Ruth’s newest addition to this logging community of two thousand had been a huge hit. With little invested, her cousin was already turning a profit—albeit a small one—selling gourmet coffees, pastries, soups and sandwiches.

According to the locals, Sip ’n Snack was the place to be. And that was good. If Kelly had to be in this place, at least she was where the action was, until the shop closed every day.

Kelly dreaded the evenings. They were far too long and gave her too much time to think. Even though she walked in the door of Ruth’s small, cozy house so exhausted she could barely make it to the bathtub, much less to bed, she still couldn’t sleep.

But nights had been her problem long before she came to Lane. And now with the empty afternoons, the past had ample opportunity to rear its traumatic head and haunt her once again. Soon, though, she would fulfill her obligation to her cousin and would be back at home in Houston where she belonged.

However, she reminded herself ruefully, her personal life hadn’t been any better there or she wouldn’t be here now. Inside, at the core of her being, her heart had been coated with cement that nothing could chip away.

“Phone for you, Kelly.”

When she picked it up, Ruth’s cheerful voice said, “Hi, toots, how’s it going?”

“It’s going.”

“I don’t want to keep bugging you, but I can’t stand not knowing what’s going on. I’m having major withdrawals from the shop.”

“I can imagine.”

“Have you met him yet?”

Kelly made a face. “Met who?”

Ruth chuckled. “The town hunk, the only single guy worth his salt around there.”

Kelly purposely hid her agitation. “If I met him, I didn’t know it.”

“Oh, trust me, you’d know.”

“You’re wasting your time, Ruth, playing matchmaker.”

Her cousin sighed. “It’s past time you looked at other men. Way past.”

“Who says I don’t look?”

“Pooh. You know what I mean.”

Kelly laughed. “Hey, don’t stress yourself about me. If I’m supposed to find someone else, I will.” Only not in this lifetime.

“Sure.” Ruth’s tone was a tad cynical. “You’re just telling me what I want to hear.”

Kelly laughed again. “Gotta run. I just heard the buzzer.”

Before Ruth could reply, Kelly hung up. Setting her smile in place, she came from behind the counter, only to pull up short and stare. Later, she didn’t know why she had behaved in such a manner. Perhaps it was because he was so tall and handsome.

Or better yet, perhaps it was the way he was looking at her.

Was this the “hunk” Ruth had just told her about?

To her chagrin, the stranger’s dark blue eyes began at the tip of her toes and worked slowly upward, missing nothing of her trim frame. He gave a pointed glance at her breasts and hair, making her strangely glad she had recently placed highlights in her short, sherry-colored tresses.

When those incredible dark eyes whipped back up to hers, the air was charged with electricity. Stunned, Kelly realized she was holding her breath.

“Like what you see?” she asked before she thought. God, where had that come from? Her real job. Being bold and forward was what had pushed her to succeed in her profession.

The big guy grinned, a slow, sexy grin. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

For the first time since her husband’s death four years prior, Kelly was completely unnerved by a man’s stare. And voice. She sensed, however, this stranger wasn’t just any man. There was something special about him that commanded attention. Rugged was the word that came to mind.

She wasn’t used to seeing men in worn jeans, washed so much that their color had faded, plus a flannel shirt, scarred steel-toed boots and a hard hat in his hand. Even in Lane, this caliber of man was rare.

He was still staring at her. Kelly shifted her feet and tried to look away, but failed. That ruggedness seemed to go hand in hand with his six-foot-plus height, muscled body and slightly mussed, sun-kissed brown hair.

Big and dangerous. A treacherous combination.

God, what was she thinking? No matter how attractive or charming the man, she wasn’t interested. If so, she would’ve encouraged other men’s affections—in Houston. He was probably up to his armpits in women, anyway, even in Lane.

No man would ever measure up to her deceased husband, Eddie. Having drawn that conclusion, Kelly had concentrated on her career and made it her reason for living.

Breaking into the growing silence, she asked in her most businesslike tone, “What can I get you?”

“What’s the special today?” he asked in a deep, brusque voice that matched his looks.

Kelly cleared her throat, glad some normalcy had returned. “Coffee?”

“That’ll do for starters,” he responded, striding deeper into the shop, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

“The specials are on the board.” To her dismay, Kelly was rooted to the spot like a tongue-tied imbecile. Then, red-faced, she finally whipped her gaze to the board behind the counter, which always listed the day’s coffee and food specials.

“Not this time,” he drawled, “unless I’ve lost a day.” He paused. “Today’s Wednesday, not Tuesday. Right?”

Convinced her face matched the color of her hair, Kelly nodded. She hadn’t changed the sign, which under ordinary circumstances wouldn’t have been a big deal. But for some reason, this man’s comment made her feel inadequate, a condition she despised.

Shrugging her shoulders, Kelly gave him a sugary smile and said, “French vanilla latte is the coffee flavor for the day.”

He rubbed his chin for a moment, then frowned. “Too bad a fellow can’t just get a plain cup of joe?”

Realizing that he was teasing her, she kept that smile in place and said, “Sorry, this is not that kind of shop. But then you know that. So if it’s supermarket coffee you want, you’ll have to make your own.”

He chuckled. “I know.”

Despite her reluctance, she felt a grin toying with her lips.

“I’ll take the plain brew that’s closest to normal old coffee.”

When she returned with the cup and placed it in front of him, Kelly didn’t look at him, hoping to discourage further conversation. Despite his good looks, for some reason, this man made her uncomfortable, and she wanted no part of him. Still, she handed him a menu.

He glanced at it, laid it aside, then looked back up at her. “So you’re the new Ruth?”

“Hardly.”

“So where is she?”

“Out of state caring for her ailing mother.”

“You’re filling in, huh?”

“For a while, anyway.”

His thick eyebrows bunched together as his gaze locked on her again. “By the way, I’m Grant Wilcox.”

“Kelly Baker.”

Instead of offering his hand, he nodded. “A pleasure.”

Every time he spoke, she had a physical reaction to his voice. It was like being struck by something you thought would be severe and bruising, so that you recoiled inwardly. Only it wasn’t at all. It was pleasant, in fact.

“You from around here?” he asked after taking a long sip of his coffee.

“No,” Kelly said hesitantly. “Actually, I’m from Houston. How about yourself?”

“Not originally. But I am now. I live about ten miles west of town. I own a logging company and recently bought the timber on a huge tract of land. So I’m stuck in Lane. At least for the time being.”

The skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and he was smiling now. “We’ve just started cutting, and I’m happy as a pig in the sunshine.”

Was he deliberately trying to sound like a hick or was he trying to tell her something by using that off-putting terminology? “That’s good,” she said for lack of anything else to say. Despite her reaction to Grant, intellectually she couldn’t care less what he was or what he did. So she asked if he’d like something to eat now.

As if he picked up on her attitude, a smirk crossed his lips, then he said, “I’ll have a bowl of soup and a warm-up on my coffee.”

All he needed to add was “little lady” to go with that directive. He definitely didn’t seem to be the world’s most progressive guy. Was it so obvious she was out of her comfort zone? Or was he just intuitive? It didn’t matter. What did matter was that his condescending manner not only infuriated her, but also made her more determined than ever to serve him with perfection.

Grabbing the pot from behind the counter, Kelly made her way back toward his table, a smile plastered on her lips. She picked up his cup, and that was when it happened. The cup slipped from her hand and its contents landed in Grant Wilcox’s lap. He let out a shout.

Speechless with horror, Kelly watched as he kicked back his chair and stood.

“I’d say that was a good shot, lady,” he said.

Though her empty hand flew to her mouth, Kelly’s eyes dipped south, where they became glued to the wet spot surrounding his zipper.

Then they both looked up at the same time, their gazes locking.

“Fortunately, none the worse for wear,” he drawled, a slow smile crawling across his lips.

Horrified, mortified—you name it—Kelly could only stammer, “Oh my God—I’m so sorry.” Her voice sounded nothing like her own. “Stay put and I’ll get a towel.”

Whirling, she practically ran to the counter, When she returned, Grant’s eyes met hers again.

“Here, let me,” she said, reaching out, only to stop abruptly when she saw the open grin on his face. She yanked her hand back, feeling blood rush into her cheeks.

“That’s okay. I think I’ll just change my jeans.”

“Uh, right,” Kelly said after finding her voice.

“How much do I owe you?”

Kelly was appalled that he’d even ask that. “Under the circumstances, absolutely nothing.”

He turned then and walked toward the exit. Kelly could only stand spellbound in shock.

When he reached the door he turned and winked. “See ya.”

She hoped not. But at the same time, she was sorry, because he did have the cutest ass and swagger she’d ever seen—even when he’d just braved hot coffee from her hands.

Too bad they were wasted on her.