on their land today, a chore desperately needed. To Maddie and Delia’s combined delight, and Zoe’s suspicion, Ty had taken Zoe as his helper.
This amused her sisters because they both sensed exactly how explosive she and Ty were together, and since the closest video store was an hour’s drive away, it served as their entertainment.
Maddie had days ago suggested, in her sweet, calm way, that Zoe try harder to get along with Ty, that maybe Zoe was mad because Ty did what no one else did—made Zoe feel.
Maddie didn’t know what she was talking about, grumbled Zoe as the sun beat down on her. She saw no reason to try to get along with the man who was only being nice to her to get her land, no matter how good his arms had felt around her.
He drove her crazy on purpose, she thought darkly, wiping her damp forehead with her arm. He thrived on it, as if he was as strangely frustrated as she at their strange, unaccountable attraction.
Ever since that night she’d slugged him, he’d stopped teasing her at every turn, but he still, when she least expected it, shot her one of his...looks.
The scorching, hungry, “maybe I’m going to kiss you in spite of you hitting me” look that made her bones melt. Made her yearn and ache and...yes, dammit, feel, in a world where she’d learned that feeling only hurt. She’d been with Delia and Maddie for years, and still she’d managed to keep a good part of Zoe to herself.
So what made it so hard with Ty?
He hadn’t attempted to kiss her again, yet he’d kissed her sisters regularly. Sweet little pecks with closed lips. He kissed other women like Shirley—which for reasons Zoe didn’t want to think about, made her want to strangle him, especially since those kisses were not so sweet and not so little at all.
Zoe knew this because she’d had the misfortune to catch him kissing the woman in the barn. Well, to be honest, as Ty had told her, Shirley had kissed him. But it’d been a long, deep, messy-looking kiss.
She groaned and squeezed her eyes shut against the strange pooling of heat between her thighs.
What made that memory even worse was the way Ty had looked when he’d finally managed to pull back. Dark, intense...aroused in spite of himself.
And some pathetic little part of Zoe wanted to feel that way, too. Wanted Ty to make her feel that way.
Was she that awful? She hadn’t hit him that hard, had she? And it was only because she’d been frightened, not of him, but of what he made her feel.
God. What was she thinking? Zoe didn’t care why he didn’t kiss her! She was thankful, yes, she was.
She didn’t want to be that desperate for anyone. If she just stuck mostly to herself, she’d be just fine. Yes, she had Delia and Maddie, but she knew deep down, one day they’d get married and have children and drift away from her. They’d find others in their lives to love and she would be fine with that.
She’d be alone again, and she’d be fine. Just fine.
Ty patiently held the wire. The sun gleamed off his reflective sunglasses so that she couldn’t see his eyes, but she imagined they were lit with amusement—at her expense. “Don’t tell me you broke a nail,” he called out.
“Shut up,” she called back in what she meant to be an amiable tone, but she sounded weary even to her own ears. Straightening, she stretched her aching body, knowing she’d lie down and die before she admitted she was tired. Die, too, before admitting she’d been thinking of him.
Shoving her long, out-of-control hair back, she wished for a hair band with all her might. She lifted her hands to raise it off her hot neck, but her hands were disgustingly dirty. Shrugging her shoulders at this minor inconvenience, just one more in a long line of many, she snipped off an extra piece of wire and twisted it in her hair, far more concerned with comfort than looks.
It’d be hell later, untangling the wire from the snarls in her curls, but that was a worry to be saved for nightfall.
“Hey there.”
He’d come right up behind her. She jumped a little because his voice was so rough yet silky, and it did something funny to her nerves. “Stop sneaking up on me.”
Solemnly, he held out a pair of gloves. “Keep these on,” he demanded. “You’ll ruin your skin.”
“You must be confusing me with Delia.” It was only fair to share her rotten mood with him since he’d caused it “I could care less about my nails.”
“Hmm.” His work-roughened hands brushed hers, and at the contact, her stomach tightened all funny. She jerked her hands away, annoyed at both of them.
“Touchy,” he noted.
“Just keep your paws to yourself.” No one’s touch had ever made her feel all tingly inside. Why his? Why now? And if she smacked him again, would he understand that it was just her irrational fear and nothing personal?
“Touchy and full of insults.” He grinned. “You’re a real joy to work with.”
“So are you,” she said evenly. “Just ask Cliff.”
He didn’t even look ashamed. “I apologized to him.”
“Not to me.”
“You slugged me!” He slid a hand over his perfectly flat stomach as if remembering the punch vividly.
Why, she wondered for the hundredth time, was he so gentle with the quiet, withdrawn Maddie, so funny with intense Delia and so absolutely ungentle and unfunny with her?
Instead he was bold and wicked and fierce, and she refused to feel bad, or at least admit that she did. “You could have chosen Maddie or Delia to help you today, so don’t complain that you’re stuck with me.”
“Who’s complaining?”
Well, he had her there. Feeling awkward with him so close and so big, she looked around desperately for a distraction. She didn’t have to look too far. The dry, parching heat was getting to her. “I wish I had a rubber band!”
“Here.” He reached into the truck and opened the glove box. His wallet fell out, opened, to the floorboard. Ignoring that, Ty found a rubber band and handed it to her.
“Thank you.” But the words were hard to say because she was looking into the truck, down at his open wallet. And at the two—two!—condoms in it. A little squeak of shocked embarrassment escaped her.
Without any sign of self-consciousness, he replaced the wallet and straightened.
“Better?” he asked, gesturing to her now-contained hair.
She could only stare at him. He carried two condoms on him, was all she could think. “Two?”
He let out a slow, sexy grin at that and she nearly swallowed her tongue, realizing she’d spoken out loud. “I mean—”
“I know what you mean,” he said. A long finger stroked her cheek, while his eyes flared with a surprising amount of heat. “I’m not promiscuous, I just like to be prepared. And sometimes one just isn’t enough.” His smile spread. “It wouldn’t be with you, Slim.”
“I—You—Oh.” Hopelessly flustered, she studied their feet, blushing all the more when he laughed softly. And she decided if he was enjoying this, she might as well ask “Just how not promiscuous are you?”
“Well...those two would probably fall apart if I needed them, they’re so old,” he admitted ruefully.
That cheered her up considerably. Until he tipped up her chin and said, “I’m thinking of replacing them.” His thumb glided along her lip, making it tingle, and the look in his eyes made her heart take off like a shot.
He did it on purpose, she decided, just to see her all ruffled, and she renewed her efforts at resenting him with all her locked-up heart.
Before