When Things Got Hot in Texas Read online

  They drank their beers out on the porch. Mason sat in the rocker with Furball sleeping at his feet, and Dirk sat on the steps with his cowboy hat hooked over one knee. They didn’t discuss death. They talked about the drought, Texas baseball, and the best fishing holes around. When their beers were empty, Mason showed Dirk the air conditioner.

  The guy was a handyman. It didn’t take him long to figure out what the problem was. Or problems.

  “The motor and compressor are shot.” Dirk grabbed the hose to wash the grease from his hands. “Rather than fix them, you’d be better off buying a new one. You can order one from Austin, but it will take a few weeks. Or I’m pretty sure Sully Tucker has a used one out at his junkyard. I can have him deliver it here tomorrow and I’ll come back tomorrow night after I close the diner and help you install it.” He flashed a grin. “Unless you still don’t trust me.”

  Mason shrugged. “I guess I’ll have to take my chances.”

  He gave Dirk a ride back into town, and they stopped by the junkyard on the way and made the arrangements with Sully to deliver a used air conditioning unit the following day. Then he dropped Dirk at the diner. Before he got out, Dirk turned to Mason.

  “As the baby girl of her family, Becky can be a bit of a brat. But her desire for the Reed place isn’t a spoiled child’s whim. She wants it more for her cousin Gracie than for herself.”

  “What does her cousin have to do with it?”

  “I guess Becky and Gracie used to dream about ranching the Reed property together. Now that it looks like Gracie won’t walk again, Becky wants to make sure she gets her dream.”

  Mason had heard about Gracie from Zane. A young woman being thrown from her horse and becoming paralyzed was a tragic accident. It was admirable to want to help her. But he had to wonder if Becky wasn’t just using her cousin to get her hands on his ranch.

  “The house isn’t exactly set up for someone in a wheelchair,” he said.

  “If Gracie wants to live there, I’d be willing to do the work to make sure she can get around it. Of course, that’s neither here nor there, since you own the house and the ranch it sits on.” He tapped the bottom edge of the open window. “Thanks for the ride, Mace.”

  After leaving Dirk at the diner, Mason headed back to the house. But it was too damned hot to stay inside. So he loaded up a cooler with beer, left Furball snoozing on the porch, and headed to one of the fishing holes Dirk had told him about. He didn’t realize that the fishing hole was on Zane and Becky’s land until he was waved over by a guy in a truck with Earhart Ranch stenciled on the side.

  Once the man rolled down his window, Mason recognized him as the ranch hand who had come out to help when they brought back the wounded calf. The man seemed almost hostile until he recognized Mason.

  “You’re Becky’s friend that helped with the calf.” Mason wouldn’t go as far as to call them friends, but he nodded. The man reached a hand out the window. “I’m Jess Owens, the foreman of the Earhart Ranch.”

  Mason took his hand and gave it a firm shake. “Mason Granger. How is the calf doing?”

  “Good. Although we had to call out the vet and have him stitch up the deeper cuts that weren’t caused by the barbed wire.”

  Mason was confused. “What were they caused by?”

  Jess pushed up his hat and used a bandana to wipe the sweat off his face. “The vet seems to think that they were knife wounds. And after taking a closer look, I have to agree. Barbed wire pokes and tears the skin in a jagged line. But these cuts were clean and straight. And it was weird how they formed a perfect X over the Earhart brand.”

  That was weird. Too weird to be a coincidence. He had to wonder if Ms. Marble’s concerns about Becky’s stalker were entirely unfounded.

  “Where’s Becky?” he asked.

  “That’s who I was looking for when I ran into you. After seeing those cuts, I told her to stay close to the house. But that girl has never listened well. Especially now that Zane’s gone. She’s been running herself ragged trying to prove she can handle the ranch on her own.”

  Mason shouldn’t get involved. Becky wasn’t his concern. But with Zane out of town, he couldn’t help feeling responsible. “Where have you looked? If we split the rest of the ranch up between us, we’ll find her quicker.”

  It still took a good hour to find Becky’s truck. It was parked by a cluster of trees not too far from the ranch house. He called Jess to let him know, then headed along the path that lead through the trees. When he stepped into the clearing, he froze in stunned awe.

  He’d visited some of the most beautiful cathedrals in the world during his travels, but not one had made him feel as emotional as the little white chapel did. It looked exactly like it had been described in the Tender Heart books. Its white siding contrasted sharply with the vibrant green trees that surrounded it and the deep-blue sky. On the sides of the church were three multi-colored stained-glass windows, each depicting a different Texas flower. A tall spire stretched up to the heavens, its metal bell reflecting the hot afternoon sun like a godly wink.

  Mason stood there for a moment absorbing the beauty of the church before he walked down the cobblestone path to the sturdy oak doors. Once inside, he was surprised by how cool it felt . . . and reverently holy. He took off his cowboy hat and looked around for Becky. He checked the back rooms, then made his way to the altar. He found her stretched out in the third pew with her boots crossed and her head resting on a bible. Her cowboy hat covered her face, and he could hear her snores through the holes in the straw.

  He shook his head, but couldn’t help the smile that tipped his lips. The woman had a style all her own. He thought about tapping her boot to wake her up. But then he remembered what Jess had said and decided to let her sleep. Dirk had also mentioned that Becky wanted to prove herself to her father and Zane. Mason had never met her father, but he did know Zane. He got along with his friend, but he recognized a control freak when he saw one. He didn’t doubt for a second that Zane ran the ranch his way and wouldn’t put too much value on his sister’s opinions. Especially when she was such a hothead.

  A hothead who might have a dangerous stalker.

  “Something had changed between her and Lance, and Valentine didn’t know if that was a good thing or a bad thing.”

  Chapter 8

  Becky was having a weird dream. She was lying in a field of flowers completely naked and covered in bees. Honeybees. Except she didn’t feel like she was covered in bees. They weren’t stinging her or crawling on her with their tiny, creepy legs. Instead, she felt like she was cocooned inside a snuggly blanket. The bees held her tightly, but they weren’t restrictive. She knew that if she really wanted to move, the bees would let her. But for now, she didn’t want to move. She felt secure and content, almost like she was the queen of the hive and every bee was there to serve her.

  She sighed. “Honeybees.”

  A scornful snort disrupted the bees, and they scattered to the wind, leaving Becky blinking awake and stare at the tiny holes in her straw cowboy hat. She removed the hat and smiled at the sturdy beams that formed a peak in the ceiling.

  The little white chapel.

  “I guess you know you snore.”

  The feeling of contentment vanished, and she sat straight up to find Mason slouched at the end of the pew with an open bible in his hands. His cowboy hat was hooked on the corner of the pew in front and his dark hair was mussed and sexy. Yes, sexy. After a sleepless night, she’d come to terms with the fact that she was sexually attracted to Mason. She had never begged a man in her life, and yet she would’ve gotten down on her hands and knees for one more kiss from Mason. Which was disturbing. Extremely disturbing.

  “What are you doing here—“ She stopped when she realized what he’d said. “I do not snore.”

  He cocked one eyebrow. “Hasn’t your boyfriend mentioned it?”

  “Not that it’s any of your business, but I don’t have a boyfriend. And even if I did, he wouldn’t be rude enou
gh to mention my snoring—not that I snore.”

  He studied her as if he was trying to figure out if she was lying, and she had to wonder why he was so interested in her dating status when it was obvious that he didn’t like her. Of course, you didn’t have to like someone to want them. She’d figured that out as soon as Mason had touched her. If his kisses were any indication, he wouldn’t be a gentle lover. Sex with Mason would be one wild ride. And Becky had always liked her rides wild.

  She pushed the thought away. She couldn’t have sex with Mason. He was the only thing standing between her and the Reed ranch. She couldn’t let a little desire—or a lot—get in the way of her and Gracie’s dream.

  “So what are you doing here?” She glanced at the bible. “Besides repenting for all your sins.”

  A smile played at the corners of his mouth, but didn’t win out over his usual somber expression. He closed the bible and slid it into the holder on the back of the pew. “I’m afraid I’m not much on repenting. I ran into Jess, and he was worried about you after what happened to the calf.” He turned to her, his eyes intense. “Tell me about Rich.”

  The question shocked her. “Who told you about Rich?”

  “It doesn’t matter who told me. I want you to tell me about him. Or more specifically about how he’s been stalking you.”

  She laughed and got to her feet. “He’s not stalking me. He just likes me.” She headed out of the pew.

  He came the opposite way and arrived at the door before she did, blocking her exit. “And do you like him?”

  “No. He’s a little too aggressive for my tastes.”

  His eyebrows lifted. “Too aggressive?”

  She wasn’t a blusher, but the question had her cheeks flushing with heat. Mason had been aggressive. More than aggressive. And she hadn’t minded in the least. In fact, she’d begged for more.

  “I mean he wouldn’t stop when I told him no.”

  Mason’s surprised look turned to dark anger. “Did he hurt you?”

  “No. The only one who got hurt was Rich when I kneed him where it counts. Unfortunately, he didn’t take the hint and he kept sending me flowers and leaving gifts in my truck. Since I stomped the teddy bear, I think he’s finally gotten the message that I’m not interested.” She skirted around him and pushed open the door. The humid heat was like being dunked in a scalding tub of water, and she wasted no time heading to her truck and its air conditioner. Mason’s long strides easily caught up with her.

  “That could be why Rich retaliated by slicing up one of your cows. He’s sending you a message. And that message is don’t stomp on my gifts.”

  She stopped and turned to him. “Jess told you about the cuts?” She needed to have a talk with her foreman about gossiping about ranch business.

  “He’s worried about you. And so is Ms. Marble. She thinks Rich is stalking you, and I’m starting to agree with her. Especially after the calf.”

  “Rich didn’t do that. It was probably some delinquent high school kid. They get antsy in the summer and look for things to do. They steal cows and leave them on their girlfriends’ front lawns with bovine love poems. They spray paint Eat Mor Chikin on their butts. Yes, this was a little more cruel than normal. But I don’t think it’s anything to freak out about.” She paused. “Why are you so freaked out?”

  “Because you’re Zane’s little sister, and he’d do the same for me if I had a little sister who needed a keeper. Now where does this guy live so I can talk to him?”

  The little sister thing annoyed her. “You don’t need to protect me, Mason. I’m a big girl. A big girl who needs to get back to work.” She turned to leave, but he grabbed her arm and pulled her against him. Her breath rushed out in a whoosh when she met the hard planes of his body. His hands tightened on her waist, and yet, she didn’t feel like he held her prisoner. She felt as content as she had with the bees in her dream.

  “This isn’t one of your cowboys that you can intimidate with your family name and aggressive nature,” he said. “If this guy is the one responsible for the calf, then he doesn’t mind drawing blood. And the next time, he could take out his displeasure on you. Do you understand?”

  The only thing she understood was that after months of looking for the all-consuming fire that Lucy had written about in her diary, here it was. Burning her insides with its heat and making her forget about dreams and ranches.

  “Answer me, Rebecca.”

  The deep, sexy way he said her name caused the last of her resistance to melt away. She couldn’t fight the desire anymore. She didn’t want to fight it. She stared into his beautiful brown eyes and whispered the one word she’d sworn she would never speak to him again. “Please.”

  His eyes registered shock before they turned to sizzling coals. He growled low in his throat before he lowered his head and kissed her. This time, he wasn’t as rough. This time, his lips softly plucked before he deepened the kiss and caressed the inside of her mouth with his tongue. Her knees turned to water, and she clung to him like a raft in turbulent rapids. She had spent her entire life trying to prove she didn’t need a man for anything. But Mason changed that. She needed him. She needed him to quench the fire he’d started, and she was thoroughly disappointed when he drew back from the kiss and released her.

  “I think we need to get something straight.”

  It was annoying that he didn’t look even slightly fazed by the hot kiss, while she was struggling to keep from melting at his feet. She locked her knees and crossed her arms to hide her trembling hands. “What do you want to get straight this time? If it’s about Rich, I don’t want to hear it. I made the mistake of dating him. I’ll be the one to handle him.”

  He released his breath in an exasperated sigh. “Fine. But if you won’t let me talk to him, at least let me give you some advice as a lawyer. You need to keep a record of everything that has happened since you broke it off with him. How many times he’s texted and called you. How many times he’s shown up at places where you were. And how many times he’s gotten into your truck without your permission and left something. If you have to file a restraining order, you’ll want to have that information.”

  She didn’t think she’d need a restraining order, but maybe she should keep track of Rich’s harassment just in case. “Thanks for the advice. Now if you’re finished getting things straight, I need to get back to work.”

  He stepped in front of her. “Rich wasn’t what I wanted to get straight.” His expression turned softer, almost sympathetic. “I can’t be your lover, Rebecca.”

  Even though that’s exactly what she’d been thinking, she bristled at his arrogance. “And who said I wanted you as a lover, Granger?”

  A hint of a smile tipped his mouth. “I know desire when I see it. You desire me. And it’s pretty obvious that I desire you.” The fact that he desired her made her a lot less annoyed. “But no matter how much I desire you, I’m not going to take you to bed. Not only because you’re Zane’s sister, but because you’re the type of woman who wants roses and romance.” He glanced at the church. “And eventually, a wedding in a little white chapel. But I don’t do weddings. I don’t even do girlfriends.” He paused for only a second before he continued. “I’m a dominant. Do you know what that means?”

  It took her a moment to process the word. When her brain finally did, she couldn’t help staring at him in shock. “Are we talking Christian Grey?”

  He visibly cringed. “Yes, but not quite as disturbed. I don’t have a red room with whips and chains. I’m not into extreme pain. I just like my women to follow my commands without expecting anything but pleasure in return.”

  Becky didn’t know why she suddenly felt a little lightheaded. Maybe because she’d had a taste of the pleasure Mason offered and her body craved more. She swallowed hard. “So you don’t want a long commitment? You just want to give pleasure?”

  He gave one brief nod. With that nod, Becky made her decision.

  Mason Granger was going to be her Honey Bee
.

  “Lance didn’t know why the cowboy’s comment ticked him off. Valentine was asking for it, strutting around town in the indecent, low-cut dress. Regardless, only a few seconds after the bosom comment, Lance was standing over the knocked-out cowboy massaging his sore knuckles, while Valentine stared at him like he’d sprouted horns.”

  Chapter 9

  Being a lawyer had its perks. When you needed information about someone, you had plenty of resources. Mason had Rich Myer’s address by the following morning. Rich lived a good twenty minutes outside of Bliss on a rural road that Mason drove past and had to backtrack to find. His trailer was set amid some overgrown pecan trees. The siding was rusted, two of the windows were broken out, and the front door looked like a wild animal had mauled it. The door was so beat up that Mason had to search for a solid place to knock.

  Not that he expected an answer. There were no vehicles parked in front—at least not with any tires. Mason was more than a little disappointed. He’d looked forward to putting the fear of God in the man. Becky was convinced Rich hadn’t been the one who cut the calf, and maybe she was right. But the guy was still harassing her and needed to stop.

  When no one answered his knock, he leaned over from the dilapidated front steps and looked in the window. The place was a pigsty. Beer cans, pizza boxes, and filled ashtrays covered the kitchen table. But it wasn’t the mess that caught his attention as much as the collage of pictures on the wall leading into the living room.

  Every single one was of Becky.

  He didn’t even try the door to see if it was locked. He just lifted a boot and kicked it in. It rebounded off the wall with a loud bang. If Rich was at home, Mason had just been announced.

  The place stunk like smoke, beer, and body odor. He walked straight over to the pictures that had been carefully taped to the wall. Becky hadn’t posed for any of them. She looked completely unaware that someone was photographing her. That pissed him off. He became even more pissed when he saw the one of her skinny-dipping. It was from far enough away that you couldn’t see details, but close enough to know she was naked.