helping Fred. But no matter how hard she tried to justify her actions, she knew she was at least partly kidding herself.
The man had triggered something inside her that was as powerful as an adrenaline rush. She’d often felt a similar thrill riding and sometimes driving, and occasionally when there was an arrest to be made on the job, but she’d never felt the same curiosity, let alone interest, in a man. That was saying something, when she’d been courted, and been the object of many a matchmaking scheme, and had even tried an affair or two. Mack’s kiss made all of that pale in comparison. She wanted to discover if it had been a fluke. Of course it was, she assured herself quickly. But she doubted a fling with Mack was going to raise her uncle’s blood pressure the way some of her other behavior did.
As she closed the gate between their properties, she spotted Eberardo emerging from the barn, Two Dog, the cow-dog-mix canine, only steps behind him. Eberardo waved and met her at the house.
A few inches shorter than her and perhaps five years older, he was a nice-looking man with a quick smile and a gentle hand with livestock. Fred had hired him over a dozen years ago on a temporary basis, but soon moved the trailer in to make the job permanent.
“Buenos días!” she said, as she emerged from the truck with the covered plate and the two bags of groceries. The dog jumped high to sniff at the plate. “Nothing for you this trip,” she told him. “I promise, next time.”
Eberardo sharply ordered Two Dog to sit and the dog immediately dropped to the ground, all obedience.
“I don’t think Mr. Graves is up yet,” Alana told Eberardo. “I was going to put this in his refrigerator.”
The ranch hand tipped his straw Western hat in greeting. “Then I come back. I just wanted to check in case he don’t want I stay.” He wiped his hands with a red kerchief that he pushed back into his jeans pocket. “I don’t want no trouble.”
Alana hadn’t seen him so nervous since he’d come to Last Call looking for work. “Eberardo, this is your home, and Mr. Mack doesn’t know much about ranching. He’ll need your knowledge and advice.”
“Gracias, Señorita Ally. I hope you are right. I would like to stay.”
Alana knew that was partly because he was in a relationship with a nurse at the local hospital. “Then we’ll work toward that goal. Mack Graves seems a decent man.”
* * *
That’s what Mack heard as he opened the side door. At the sound of the approaching vehicle—and knowing he’d locked the gate last night—he’d managed to drag on jeans and had hoped to pull on the T-shirt he’d grabbed, but he had to settle for holding it between his hands. Most of what he wanted to cover was on his back, anyway.
“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he said, allowing himself a swift head-to-toe review of the woman who’d even intruded into his dreams. His first thought was that if she had put on that big jersey hoping to make herself less appealing, she’d failed. His second was an unexpected twist of jealousy as he wondered who it had belonged to.
Although Alana merely lifted her left eyebrow at his perusal, she turned to the man beside her. “Mack, this is Eberardo Chavez, whom I told you about. Eberardo, this is Mack Graves, Mr. Fred’s son. Anything you need or don’t understand,” she added to Mack, “he’s your walking resource center. He’s also a darned good mechanic, and helped teach me a lot of what I know about horses.”
Eberardo grinned, his white teeth brilliant in his bronzed face and his eyes twinkling with pride. “Nobody as good with the critters like you, Señorita Ally.”
While Mack knew he still looked bleary-eyed despite having showered, he shook Eberardo’s hand firmly. “Good to meet you. Would you and Ally like to come in for some—I was about to look if there was any coffee in the pantry.”
“Is okay, señor. I must get back to work. Please, if you need Eberardo, you yell or honk the truck or tractor horns, or Señorita Ally give you my cell phone number.” He pulled it out of his pocket to confirm that it was charged and ready. “I come quick from any place.”
“That sounds like a deal.” Mack watched as the man and the white-and-black canine took off before returning his gaze to Alana. He caught that while he’d been focusing on Fred’s hand, she was paying him back for his inspection. “Like what you see?”
“You live up to marine standards.”
“Shouldn’t you be getting your beauty sleep?”
“If I get three or four hours, I’m good.” She nodded at her bounty. “I stopped at the market on the way home to pick up some essentials to buy you a little time before you make your presence known in town. Plus Uncle Duke tends to cook enough for four. Are you going to invite me in or was last night a hint that I should be intimidated by you?”
“I believe hints are a waste of time with you.” But Mack allowed the smile tugging at his lips and stepped back to let her pass.
Alana carried everything to the kitchen table and, once he shut the door, Mack used the chance to tug on the white T-shirt, but he tried to move too fast and messed up the bandages on his back. He tried to untangle the tape from the shirt, and swore softly at the sting that told him that he failed. That’s when he heard a gasp.
“Mack!”
So much for trying to keep the wounds private. He knew she was seeing the effects of the two bullets he’d taken during his final deployment. He had returned to wearing the bandages because of the chafing caused by his clothing, as well as the occasional bump of the duffel bag during countless miles of hiking.
“That’ll teach me to finish dressing before answering the door,” he said as she came to offer assistance. “I can get this.”
“Oh, yeah, you’re doing such an outstanding job. Hold still.”
In short order, she removed the mangled mess and dabbed the antibiotic ointment from his T-shirt with the clean side of the gauze. “Take off this thing before you really start bleeding again.” Without waiting for him to comply, she started tugging it over his head.
Mack helped finish, but gave her a warning look. “I’m fine.”
“Of course you are,” she replied, her tone mocking. “Sit. I’ll start a pot of coffee and get you patched up. I take it there’s more of that stuff in the bathroom?”
“Yeah.”
Alana went to the refrigerator and took out a can of coffee. “Store the stuff in there,” she said as though confident he was watching her. “It stays fresh longer.”
“Far too complicated. That’s why I’ve stuck with instant for years,” Mack said—but he was glad to take a seat and watch her. She was all efficiency and grace, no wasted movements.
“This is the same unit that’s at the station,” she said, filling the carafe from the refrigerator water dispenser. Then she counted three of the measuring scoops of grains into the filter. “Don’t even attempt to tell me—this is a waste of your precious time.”
Mack had to pinch the bridge of his nose to keep from laughing. The woman was as much a pain in his backside as she was irresistible.
Once she turned on the machine, she vanished around the corner and down the hall in search of the first-aid supplies. Mack used the break to peel apart the aluminum foil around the platter to get a slice of the bacon. Its scent was making him salivate.
“That needs to go into the microwave,” Alana said upon her return. “It’ll taste better warm.”
“Tastes fine to me,” he said, knowing his stubbornness would irk.
Instead of replying, she simply plucked the plate out of his reach, tore off the rest of the foil and placed his meal in the microwave. In about half a minute, she took it out, pulled a fork from the silverware drawer and set everything in front of him.
“My,