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Just then, the largest dog he’d ever encountered nosed open the screen door, got Joe in his sights, and bounded down the steps, barking his head off. Before Joe could brace himself, ham-sized paws collided with Joe’s shoulders, sending him sprawling in the dirt with a loud “Oof!” And if having the wind knocked out of him wasn’t enough of an indignity, a gallon or so of dog spit now washed over his face. Then he heard Taylor yell, “Oakley! Drop it!” and he could breathe again. Move, no, but definitely breathe.
“Ohmigod, I’m so sorry…” Taylor grabbed his hand and, grunting, hauled him to a sitting position. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Joe said, cautiously testing assorted limbs to make sure he was. On her knees in the dirt beside him, Taylor was close enough for him to catch a whiff of her scent. Yes, even over the mimosa and the over achieving honeysuckle. He’d almost forgotten how good women smelled. And to make matters worse, her hair had come loose, swirling around her face and shoulders in a mass of glittery, untidy waves that looked hot to the touch.
“Gross,” Seth said, over what sure sounded like choked laughter. “You’ve got dog slime all over you!”
Joe’s gaze shot to his brother. Hearing him laugh was almost worth the sore butt and dog spit. Then his eyes swerved to Taylor’s, who sure as hell looked like she wanted to laugh, too, and for a split second, he felt the dumbest spurt of connection or something. Almost angrily, he yanked his shirttail out of his waistband and started mopping his face, only to then remember what Taylor’d said to get the dog off him. He dropped his now soggy shirttail and looked at her again. “‘Drop it’?”
“It’s one of the few commands he’ll obey,” she said, her forehead crinkled for a moment before she pulled a tissue out of her pocket, grabbed Joe’s chin and daubed at his still-wet face like he was one of her kindergartners, for Pete’s sake. The sensation of soft fingers against his skin sent awareness jolting through him, settling nicely in his groin. Terrific.
“He loves to play fetch,” Taylor went on, totally unaware of her torture. “But he has a problem with the part where he has to let…go…”
She went stock-still, her gaze fixed on his mouth. Then her hands yanked away and a little hiss of air escaped her lips, her cheeks turning practically the same color as the bright pink petunias spilling out of the whiskey barrel planter a few feet away.
Now it was Joe’s turn to barricade the laughter threatening to erupt from his gut, even as he had to tamp down the urge to plow his fingers through all that bright, glittery hair and plant a hard, fast kiss on that funny mouth of hers just because, well, he felt like it.
“Sorry,” she mumbled as Seth, bless him, got everybody back on track.
“You said six-thirty, Joe,” he said, indignant as hell. “It’s after seven.”
“I know, I know,” Joe said, collecting the slightly battered flowers and candy—which the dog had slobbered all over—and getting to his feet. “Traffic out of Tulsa was a bi…bear. Then the skies ripped open right outside Claremore and I had to pull off the road until it let up some.” He shifted everything to one hand and hugged the kid to him, his physical instincts fully operational even if the jury was still out on his emotions. “I’m really sorry. But I got you something, it’s in the car. And these—” Joe wiped the candy box on his jeans as the kid took off, and then shoved both candy and flowers at Taylor “—are for you.”
She stared at them like she wasn’t sure what to think.
Well, hell, Joe never had been much good at the keeping-women-happy stuff. He didn’t suppose it helped matters any that by now the flowers looked like something he’d filched from a neglected grave and the candy box was still slightly damp.
He blew out a breath. “It’s lame, I know, but I thought, hell, I should do something. But I didn’t have any idea what you might like. Since I don’t really know you, I mean. And the Homeland was the only thing open by the time I got here. But I figured I was probably safe with candy and flowers. I mean, don’t all women have a thing for chocolate?”
Why wouldn’t she say anything? She just stood there, staring at the flowers with a peculiar expression on her face. After what seemed like forever, she finally brought the daisies and carnations up to her nose and inhaled deeply. Daisy petals fluttered off in all directions; one carnation head plummeted to the dirt. She bent to pick it up, then lifted her eyes to his. “They’re lovely, thank you. But unfortunately chocolate gives me a headache.”
Behind him, the Blazer door slammed shut; small feet pummeled the earth as Seth returned, holding aloft his prize, a toy police car Joe’d gotten when he’d picked up the flowers and—he now realized, pointless—candy.
“This is so cool! Thanks, Joe!”
Joe’s heart turned over in his chest. It was a stupid two-buck toy, for crying out loud. But like the dumb TV commercial, the look on his brother’s face was priceless. Seth looked like a normal little boy. A happy little boy. Joe knew better than to think the worst was behind them, that this was anything more than the sun’s piercing the clouds for a moment. But it was a start.
And he’d made it happen. Okay, the toy had made it happen, but Joe had made the toy happen, right?
“You’re welcome, bro,” he said, and the boy beamed even more brightly, and Joe noticed Taylor watching him like maybe she expected him to sprout wings or something.
“I guess we’ll be getting out of your hair now,” he said, just as she said, “Have you had dinner?”
“No, ma’am,” he said after a long moment. “But I don’t want to put you out.”
She smiled. That full-out, first-place smile. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You won’t.”
Chapter 4
Flowers, for God’s sake.
The goofball had brought her flowers.
And candy she couldn’t eat.
Taylor eyed the Russell Stover box, sitting there so innocently on the kitchen counter.
Shouldn’t eat, anyway.
With a sigh, she climbed up on a kitchen chair to get down a cut-glass vase she’d gotten as a wedding present and couldn’t remember ever using before this. Partly because nobody—including her ex—had given her flowers since her marriage, and partly because, even though she was perfectly capable of giving herself flowers, glass anythings and bloodhounds were not a good mix. But then, she mused as she located the vase in amongst the million and one other wedding presents she had no use for but couldn’t bring herself to pitch, one could always stick flowers in a milk jug if one really wanted flowers in the house.
She thought there might be something profound in there, somewhere, but she was too tired to figure it out. Just as she was too tired to figure out what the heck had been going on outside when she’d for some reason thought wiping the dog spit off the man’s face would be a good idea and he’d gotten this look in his eyes that had clearly told her it had been anything but.
“Need any help?” she heard behind her, and the vase nearly fell out of her hands. Joe reached up and relieved her of it, setting it carefully on the counter and sending yet another life-is-so-unfair rush through Taylor.
Things were much easier when she was mad at him. Only then he had to go and do stuff like bring her battered flowers and chocolates and get that confused, helpless, I’m-really-trying-here expression on his face when he looked at Seth. Dammit, not only could she not stay mad, she invites the man to dinner.
But then, she wasn’t having visions of abandoned, uneaten chocolates in the trash, either.
However, she noticed Joe glowering at her as she got off the chair, and a small, hopeful flame of annoyance tried to rekindle itself.
“Standing on chairs isn’t safe,” he said.
The flame grew a tiny bit brighter, even though his voice was all growly soft and he was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. By seven o’clock, his five o’clock shadow had reached the should-be-outlawed stage. So she puffed on the flame a little to make sure it didn’t go out.
“Yeah, well, I’ve been standing on chairs since I was two, haven’t broken my neck yet, so I’ll continue to live dangerously, thank you. Where’s Seth?”
“Out front, playing with the car.”
She actually considered keeping her big mouth shut, she really did. But since that was like trying to keep rain from hitting the ground, she said, “You know, distracting him with gifts will only work for so long.”
Joe’s eyes darkened, but he leaned one hand against the counter and slipped his other into his jeans pocket, as if nothing or nobody was going to ruffle his feathers, by golly. “And it might not hurt for you to cut me some slack here, Miss McIntyre. I’m doing the best I can.”
His reproof was gentle, but dead-on. Her cheeks burning, Taylor turned her back on Joe to run water into the vase, after which she grabbed the flowers from beside the sink and plopped them into the vessel. Oakley trotted into the kitchen, his nails clattering against the tiles. From outside, she heard Seth making assorted, if subdued, high-speed chase noises with the little car. She glanced up to make sure he was okay, just in time to see a robin the size of Texas scamper across the yard, tweetering his little robin heart out.
And Joe’s pheromones flooded her kitchen, flooded her, settling into every nook and cranny of her person and making her puff so hard on that damn flame she was about to hyperventilate.
“So,” she said. “Dinner. Frozen or canned?”
After a slight pause, she heard, “You don’t cook?”
“I cook. When the mood strikes. It didn’t tonight.” Or most nights, actually. Which was a shame, in a way, because she wasn’t a half-bad cook. But it was like the giving herself flowers thing—basically, she couldn’t be bothered. “Anyway,” she went on, twisting to set the flowers in the center of the table, where they actually looked very pretty, if still a bit shell-shocked, “I’ve got canned chili, some of that Chunky soup stuff, and a freezer full of frozen dinners.”
“I think I’ll take my chances with the chili.”
“Good choice.”
That got a half laugh. Then he plunked himself down at her table, looking as though he belonged there. How bizarre. “So how come you invited me to dinner if you’re still pissed at me?”
Her gaze shot to his. “I’m not—”
He chuckled. She huffed.
“Damned if I know.”
The corners of his mouth curved up. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are one strange woman.”
“So I’ve been told.”
The grin stretched out a little more. “You’re also very pretty.”
She barked out a laugh, which somewhat blotted out the uh-oh. What little makeup she’d put on this morning had long since melted off, her shirt was stained with everything imaginable (and a few things that weren’t), and her hair had that fresh-from-the-wind-tunnel look.
“Oh, man—we’d better get some food in you, quick. Hunger must be making you delusional.” She tromped over to the cupboard. “And even if it were true, that’s not going to stop me from being pissed.”
“I didn’t think it would. And I’m not delusional. Or a suck-up.”
She arched one brow at him, which tugged a sheepish grin from his mouth.
“Okay, the flowers and the candy were a suck-up.” Then his smile…changed, somehow. Seemed to be coming more from his eyes or something. “Stating a simple fact isn’t.”
Unlike Abby, her younger sister, Taylor had never been good at accepting compliments. And she wasn’t all that sure what to do with this one now. So she decided to set it aside, like a sweet, but totally impractical, present, and said instead, “Would you like crackers with your chili?”
She could feel his gaze, warm and intense on her back, making her shiver slightly. “Sounds good. And I didn’t really mean that about you being strange.”
“Yes, you did.” The can of chili duly retrieved, she yanked open the utensil drawer and found the can opener, then handed both to Joe. “I’m a firm believer in audience participation,” she said when his brows lifted. Shaking his head, he set about removing the lid; at the sound of the can opener, Oakley planted himself next to Joe, his entire face undulating as it swiveled from Joe to can to Joe.
“I don’t suppose chili’s part of the dog’s diet,” Joe said.
“Not unless you want to wear a gas mask for the rest of the night.”
“Got it. You know,” he said, frowning at the dog as he cranked the opener, “his face kinda reminds me of an unmade bed.”
“Hey. Don’t talk smack about my dog.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Unmade beds are kinda nice, if you think about it.” His mouth twitching, he handed the open can to her. “Cozy. Inviting.”
Taylor rolled her eyes—mostly to keep from staring at him bug-eyed—and he laughed. After she dumped the chili into a bowl and put it in the microwave, Joe asked, “How’d you come to have a bloodhound anyway?”
“A question I’ve asked myself many times,” she said with a sigh. “Only thing I can figure is that since I couldn’t have a pet when I was a kid—not even a hamster—when I finally got this place, I sorta went overboard.” Oakley angled his head backward to give her a reproving look. “Not that I don’t adore the big lug,” she added, “but a bloodhound isn’t exactly the most practical choice in the world. Oh, Lord…” She grabbed an old towel off a cabinet knob and beckoned to the dog. “Come here, Niagara mouth.”
“And let me guess,” Joe said as she sopped up a small lake’s worth of drool from the dog’s jowls. “You’re by nature a very practical person.”
“Let’s see,” she said, dumping the towel in the sink and washing her hands. “I teach kindergarten in a flyspeck of a town, I bought an eighty-year-old house that I swear was made by the first little pig, and last month I picked up a sequined evening dress at a garage sale just because it was pretty.”
“What’s wrong with that?”
“Hello? Where would I wear a sequined dress around here? To one of Didi’s potlucks?”
Joe angled his head. “Don’t tell me you never leave Haven. Not even for a night out now and again?”
She flushed. “Well…no. I mean, sure, I suppose I could. It’s just been a while since I have. God. That really sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?”
They stared at each other so long and so hard a blind person—in China—could have seen the sexual sparks leaping between them.
Joe sighed. Then chuckled, a low, warm, rough sound that did a real number on her nerve endings.
“Um…we’ve got a problem, don’t we?” she said.
“Only if we act on it.”
“Are we thinking about acting on it?”
“Don’t know about you, but I am. A helluva lot more than I’ve got any right to.” He leaned back in the chair, one wrist propped on the table. “I don’t suppose…”
“No,” she said, waving her hands in front of her. “I was just…curious. If I was imagining things.”
“You’re not. But I’m not looking for…entanglements.”
That was relief she felt, right? Sitting like a lump in the pit of her stomach? “No, of course you aren’t. Because you’re only here for the summer.”
“Right. And I’m not much for starting things I can’t finish.”
“Not to mention that you’ve got enough on your plate already. With Seth.”
A fraction of a second shuddered between them before he said, “Exactly.”
“Well,” she said. “That’s good then. That we got this out in the open.” Oh, yeah, let’s hear it for responsible adulthood.
“Just what I was thinking.” His gaze nestled up to hers and settled right in. “So nobody has to wonder. About what might happen.”
“Right.”
“Sure can’t help wondering what it would feel like to kiss you, though.”
A short laugh burst from her throat even as her eyes—the traitors—zinged right to his mouth. “Did you really mean to say that out loud?” she said, looking at his mouth.
“Just figured you for the type of woman who likes to know where things stand.”
Heaven knew how long she stood there, staring at his mouth and thinking wayward thoughts, before she finally said, “This is true.” Then she added, because it seemed like another one of those good ideas, “But it wouldn’t be a good idea.”
“No. It wouldn’t.” His brow creased. “Why wouldn’t it?”
“Because if the kiss was good, I’m not sure I’d want to stop.”
His eyebrows practically shot straight up off his face.
“Did I shock you?” Taylor said.
