Page 8 of Wrangling a Texas Hometown Hero

“Hey, my brain was pickled with tequila. What were you upset about?”

“I’d just lost my job after throwing beer in my boss’s face.”

He laughed. “Sounds like something you’d do.”

“Yeah, well, he deserved it. Not only for pretty much telling me that women shouldn’t be brewing beer, but also for patting my butt without permission.’”

Jace wasn’t sure why he felt like hunting the guy down and kicking his ass from one end of Texas to the other. Probably because he’d always been protective of the Holiday sisters. “You should have done more than throw beer in his face.”

She lifted her shoulders in a shrug, drawing his attention to the smooth skin exposed by her skinny-strapped dress. An image of running his fingers over that soft skin popped into his head. He pushed it right back out.

“Women have to deal with that kind of harassment all the time,” she said. “I was more upset about him thinking I couldn’t do my job.” She was still turned away from him so he couldn’t see her face, but the hurt in her voice had him angry all over again.

“He was wrong. I’m sure you make one helluva beer. If I remember correctly, you never did anything half assed. You were the best damned cowgirl I’ve ever seen.”

“Yeah, well, a lot of good that did me.” Before he could ask her what she meant, she changed the subject. “So what happened with the Montreal Wolverines?”

He was more than a little surprised that she knew his team’s name. Very few people outside of Canada did. “You follow the Wolverines?”

She paused. “Decker or someone in town must have mentioned it.”

“Doubtful. Decker still calls them the Montreal Wolves and the townsfolk would rather eat hay than follow Canadian football. Which probably explains why they don’t talk about my professional career—just every high school play I ever made.”

“You can’t blame them. Those were their golden years and you were their golden boy.” She hesitated. “So what happened? Why did the Wolverines let you go? Your shoulder?”

He could have just answered with a simple yes. But for some reason—the comfort of the familiar hayloft or the comfort of the familiar girl—he didn’t. “The scar tissue from my two surgeries has hindered my range of motion. I thought it might be fixable with rehab and therapy, but after the tryout in Dallas, I had to come to terms with the fact that I’ll never play professionally again.”

She turned and stared at him. “You had a tryout with the Dallas Cowboys?”

He realized his mistake. “Look, Hallie, I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t—”

She placed a hand over his mouth and cut him off. “I won’t say a word to anyone, Jace. I promise. But you can’t drop a bombshell like that and not tell me the entire story.”

The pleading look in her green eyes had him relenting . . . or maybe it was the need to get her soft, warm fingers off his lips.

He took her wrist and removed her hand, noting the strum of her pulse against his fingers for a brief second before releasing her. “Okay, but I swear if you tell anyone—”

“I won’t. Scout’s honor.” She held up three fingers.

He squinted at her. “You were never a Girl Scout. That was Noelle and only because she loved Girl Scout cookies and was hoping to get the secret recipes.”

Hallie rolled her eyes. “Fine. How about if you trust me because now we already have a secret we’d just as soon no one find out about. So pretty much we’re already secret buddies.”

He lifted his eyebrows. “Secret buddies?”

“Would you rather we call ourselves Secret Sex Buddies?”

“No! Secret Buddies is good.”

She laughed. “Who would have thought that Jace the Ace, who I’ve heard has his own fan club of football groupies, would be embarrassed about having sex?”

It wasn’t the sex. It was the girl. But surprisingly the girl had a way about her that was lessening his embarrassment and guilt.

“How about if we forget that night and just be the old friends we are?”

“Deal.” She held out her hand. He hesitated for only a second before he took it.

He intended to keep the handshake brief. Too many memories popped up when he touched her. But she had other plans. After a firm squeeze and a hard shake, she tugged him over to the bales of hay that cluttered the loft. Only after she’d plopped down on one and pulled him down to another, did she release him.

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