Page 11 of Destined for the Cowboy

“Anybody who takes on scum like that is pretty cool in my view,” Tris said with a nod.

“I want to ask you how it ends, but I know you won’t tell me,” Lauren said, pretending to mope.

“Nope,” Tris said. “Although I could tell you and you’d still be surprised at how he does it.”

Lauren laughed, then waved her toward the new releases as the store phone rang and she had to go. Tris turned, scanning the small but well-stocked store, and wondered what she was in the mood for. And then her gaze stopped, locked, and for a moment she didn’t breathe. Of all the things she hadn’t expected… But there he was, barely a yard away, as tall and powerful as she remembered, a couple of books in his strong, long-fingered hands.

Logan Fox. Again.

And he was smiling as if he’d enjoyed her conversation with Lauren, which he couldn’t have helped but hear. Or more likely, at the idea of her, so educated in the classics and teaching English and composition, with a weakness for full-on thrillers. People did seem to find that amusing. But it was one of the many changes she’d made, trying to adjust her life so that every second that ticked off wasn’t a reminder of what she’d lost.

Wallowing in your misery, you mean?

“This one’s pretty good,” he said, picking up a new release from the table Lauren had aimed her at. She saw it was the newest from one of her regular authors to read, one who put layers upon layers, both in plot and character. “Had me guessing to the end.”

She laughed before she realized she was doing so. Maybe at the idea the quiet, often impassive man shared her taste in reading for fun?

“I love that about her work,” she said. “You’re stunned at who the villain is, but at the same time sitting there thinking ‘Of course, why didn’t I see it?’”

“Exactly,” he agreed, smiling again.

“I think I’d be a little afraid to meet her in person,” she said, unable, apparently, to stop smiling. “That devious mind!”

“I’d be watching my back,” he agreed, one corner of his mouth twitching upward.

Not for the first time Tris had the thought that that slight, crooked, one-corner smile was charming. And when they had checked out—he’d bought one of the thrillers she’d been considering, but also a nonfiction book that appeared to be about the King Ranch.

“Been there?” he asked when he saw her noticing the title as they went out the door.

“Not yet. It’s on the list, though.” And being the largest ranch in the entire country, it was near the top.

“It’s a longer trip,” he said, hitting on the exact reason it wasn’t in that number-one slot. “You could combine it with a run down to Brownsville. Ever heard of the Palmito Ranch Battlefield?”

“No.” Although the name rang a vague bell, it wasn’t enough, in her mind, to say yes. And that piqued her interest enough to make her ask, “Would you tell me about it?” She gestured across the street to the pie shop. “I’ll pay you in pie,” she said, smiling. “I was going anyway. I love their lemon meringue.”

He hesitated, giving her an odd but intent look, and it suddenly hit her he might be thinking this was some kind of…of pickup line or something. Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she started to turn away, muttering, “Sorry, I’m sure you have better things—”

“Cherry.”

She blinked, looked back at him. “What?”

“Cherry’s my favorite.”

About the color of my cheeks right now.She drew in a deep breath, steadied herself, and managed a smile. “Cherry it is.”

And so she found herself a few minutes later sitting across a small—almost too small—table in Char-pie, her slice of lemonmeringue in contrast to his bright cherry, an analogy she decided it would be best to stop right there.

The table really was small. Or maybe he was just so tall and broad it seemed that way, since she’d never noticed it before.

“So tell me about this battlefield,” she said rather hastily.

“Some say it was the last battle of the Civil War, although it happened over a month after the surrender at Appomattox.” His mouth quirked. “As it happened, the Confederates won. Thanks to Rip Ford.”

She swallowed her bite of pie before saying, “Rip Ford? As in the two-time senator, mayor of Austin, former Texas Ranger?”

He nodded. “He was the Confederate commander at Palmito Ranch. Ironic, that he won the battle weeks after his war was lost.”

“That’s why the name of the battle rang a bell,” she said, pleased to have the fuller story now.

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