Page 25 of Wrangling a Texas Hometown Hero

If she had thought the earth moved before, it was nothing compared to how it shifted now. She felt like she was getting ready to tumble right off into space and the only thing keeping her tethered were the calloused fingers rested beneath her chin.

A tremble raced through her.

Jace’s gaze snapped up and locked with hers. There was confusion in the gray depths of his eyes for only an instance before he must have figured out that mosquitos weren’t to blame for what was going on with her.

He was.

His lips parted in a puff of beer-scented breath. “Hallie?”

She wished she had an answer to his question. But she didn’t. She didn’t have a clue why she felt like a whirling house in a tornado. She didn’t know why her heart thumped so madly. Or why she couldn’t seem to draw in a full breath. Or why her gaze lowered to his lips and she couldn’t pull it away.

She knew those lips. She knew them well. She knew they could be soft and gentle or rough and hungry. She wanted to feel them again. She wanted it more than she had ever wanted anything in her life. When his head tipped and his fingers drew her closer, she knew she was about to get her wish. She was inches away from those lips when George and Dixie came racing up the steps of the porch and pushed between them.

The distraction brought her out of whatever weird trance had possessed her and she backed down the steps.

“I should get going. We get up early on the ranch.” She cringed at how stupid that sounded. “Anyway . . . there’s more beer in the fridge if you want it and plenty of food for the dogs. And whatever you do, don’t let Dixie get to your pillow.” She lifted a hand in an awkward wave. “See ya, Jace the Ace.” She almost made it to her truck when he stopped her.

“Hallie.”

She turned and saw him standing only feet away, his eyes reflecting the moonlight . . . along with her own confusion.

“It will get better,” he said in a husky whisper. “We just need more time to forget.”

Chapter Eight

More time to forget.

What the hell was he thinking saying that? Instead of pointing out that he knew why she was so flustered, he should have let her leave and kept right on pretending like nothing happened.

Except something had happened. The same something that had happened the morning they woke up together in her bed. He had thought it just had to do with alcohol and the realization that his football career was over. But he’d only had one beer tonight and football hadn’t even been on his mind.

What had been on his mind was the feel of the soft, warm skin beneath her chin and the strum of her strong, erratic pulse. What had been on his mind was the way her hair turned to stardust in the moonlight and the way her green gaze had settled on his mouth and burned him with an intensity that took his breath away.

All he had wanted to do was kiss her—to once again feel the slide of her soft lips and the heat of her wet mouth and thrust of her greedy tongue.

His body remembered her. It knew the feel of her skin and the taste of her lips and what it was like to be held tightly inside her. If her reaction to his touch was any indication, her body remembered him too.

He didn’t think time was going to make them forget.

Hallie didn’t either.

“I think it’s best if we stay away from each other, Jace.”

She was right. The memories of that morning were much worse when she was around. But then why couldn’t he agree? Why did he just stand there staring into her green eyes?

Eyes that were nothing like Sweetie’s.

They might be the same shade of green, but Hallie’s had a starburst of burnished amber encircling the dark pupil. Something he had never noticed until that morning.

“Dammit, Jace! Stop looking at me like that.” She whirled and got into her truck, slamming the door closed behind her. He just stood there until her taillights disappeared in the darkness. Then he cussed himself out and headed inside.

He was exhausted and hoped sleep would give him a clearer perspective of what had just happened with Hallie. He planned on sleeping in the spare room, the same room he’d shared with Decker whenever he came to visit their grandparents. But the bed was gone and in its place were stacks of boxes, paint cans, and paintbrushes.

Which meant he had to sleep in Decker and Sweetie’s room in the same bed Hallie had slept in. As soon as he slipped between the sheets, her scent enveloped him. It wasn’t flowery or perfumey like most of the women he’d dated. Hallie’s scent was light and subtle. Like clean country air. Like country air, he couldn’t describe its scent, but when it filled his lungs, it made him feel safe and secure.

He had no trouble falling asleep . . . or dreaming of that morning:

He woke in the hazy pink of predawn to a pair of green eyes that reminded him of an oak leaf at the end of summer when its edges were just turning deep amber. He was confused for only a second before recognition dawned. Something bloomed in his chest, a feeling of familiarity and comfort. He knew this person staring back at him and she knew him.

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