Page 8 of The Wrangler

3

KEELY

Keely kicked off her heels the moment she stepped inside, wiggling her toes against the cool Saltillo tile floor with a satisfied sigh. Over seventeen hours on a plane, an infuriatingly attractive bodyguard, and a whole lot of smart-ass banter later, she was finally home.

Jesse stood in the doorway like he belonged there, arms crossed, broad shoulders nearly filling the damn space. His expression was unreadable, but his eyes? He locked his eyes on her—almost as if he imagined her naked—following her every move, as if he was waiting for her to do something reckless. Which, to be fair, wasn’t an unreasonable expectation.

She threw him a quick glance over her shoulder. “You going to stand there all night, or are you coming in?”

Jesse let out a quiet breath, stepping inside but not moving far. “I should go.”

Keely shook her head, already heading toward the kitchen. “Probably, and yet, you haven’t.”

A low, rough chuckle. “Keely…”

She held up a hand. “Nope. You’re not leaving yet. You hungry cowboy?”

Jesse sighed, and she could practically feel his reluctance. Which only made her want to push him further. Keely opened the fridge, grabbing two cold beers before tossing him one. He caught it easily—of course he did—the man probably had reflexes like a damn panther.

She popped the cap off hers and leaned against the counter, studying him. “I’m heating a taco pizza. Lottie left it for me, and I feel obligated to eat it before she asks for a full review.”

Jesse hesitated, turning slowly to lock the door behind him. “Taco pizza?”

Keely grinned. “It’s exactly what it sounds like. And it’s amazing.”

Jesse rolled the bottle between his hands, then—finally—moved further inside, closing and locking the door behind him. “You need to turn your security system back on.”

“Why? The door is locked, and you’re here.”

He pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed. “It’s Jesse. The wayward traveler is home. Do me a favor and turn on her system and put her back on the patrol rotation, will you?” There was a pause where, presumably, whoever was on the other end of the phone did as he or she was asked. “Thanks.”

He ended the call, but said nothing else to her. Score one for the cowboy.

He settled onto the barstool by the island, watching her as she set the oven to preheat and pulled the pizza from the fridge. Keely tried not to notice how effortlessly dominant he was, even when he wasn’t trying. The way he filled her space with no need to take up more of it. The way he watched her—not like a man checking out a woman, but like a man who saw everything.

It was unsettling. It was also… a little thrilling.

“You do this often?” he asked, voice low, rough.

Keely slid the pizza onto a tray. “Heat food? I mean, yeah. I love cooking, but I’m also not about to waste something Lottie made.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She paused, glancing up. “Oh?”

Jesse held her gaze. “You invite men in for pizza and beer a lot?”

She tilted her head, considering. “Are you asking if I bring men home?”

Jesse didn’t flinch—but something in his body language shifted. His jaw locked, his grip on the bottle tightening. Well, that was interesting.

She shrugged, sliding the pizza into the oven. “I travel too much to date.”

Jesse took a slow sip of his beer. “That doesn’t answer the question.”

Keely turned, resting her hip against the counter. “No, Jesse. I don’t make a habit of bringing strange men into my home. But while you may be strange, you’re not just any man, are you?”

His eyes darkened. “Keely...”.

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