Page 11 of Snow in Texas

“O’Donnell?” That was a surprise. “I thought you were Mercy’s little brother.”

It was a total role reversal. Now he was the one frowning, withdrawing inside himself, his gaze switching to cool and distant. “Half-brother,” he said, firmly. “We’re not close.”

Oh, this was good. This was ammo.

Jenny sipped more coffee and braced a hip against the front fender of the club truck parked alongside her. “You look like him.” He did, from what she could remember of Felix Lécuyer. “Only maybe not quite as big and impressive,” she managed to say with a straight face.

His frown turned into a glare, and he focused all his attention on the new tire as he prepared to attach it.

“He’s more charming than you, too,” Jenny continued. “He’s got those good Southern manners.”

He huffed a humorless laugh. “Obviously, you don’t know shit about Felix.”

“I thought you two weren’t close.”

On his knees as he attached the lug nuts, he glanced back over his shoulder. “We’re–”

She bit down hard on a grin and saw one flickering at the corner of his mouth. It was a nice mouth; she liked the color of his lips, all of his skin, actually. If Mercy was Cajun, then so was his brother, and if memory served, that deep tan was the result of some Georgia Cherokee blood thrown into the mix.

“You’re fucking with me,” he said.

“Yep. Turnabout’s fair play,darlin’.”

A true smile broke across his face. “Fair enough.” He turned back to the tire, tension leaving his wide shoulders. “Okay, so since we’ve established that you’re just giving me shit, and I really am charming, what’s your deal? You some kinda man hater?”

Hate. That would have been a helpful emotion to have. Maybe if she’d dug deep and found a little hatred she could have altered the course of collapse, prevented all those hurts. It was her softness that had led to all the awful. That inner flaw, the deep melted center of her that had allowed Riley to… Maybe even encouraged his…

Weak. She was weak. She should have prayed for hatred, and she might have had it when she’d needed it most.

“It’s complicated,” she said.

“You live in a clubhouse, so I sorta guessed it had to be.”

She felt another grin threaten. “It’s not so bad around here. Good food, decent mattress. And it’s not possible to be lonely.”

Finished, he stood, dusting his hands off, glancing at her from under black slanted brows. “Yeah? You really believe that? The lonely part, I mean.”

Her smile trembled, faltered. “Sure.”

He studied her a moment. The sun was climbing higher, just tickling the tops of the trees, and the light kissed his skin, turned it gold. His eyes flashed, lightened, less coffee and more amber. She couldn’t remember how tall Mercy Lécuyer was exactly, but she remembered that sense of being towered over. It was the same with Colin, feeling small and vulnerable…only different, because with Colin she was acutely aware of her pulse in her throat, the faint rushing in her ears. A big man. A strong man. Thewrongman. If ever she felt an elemental attraction, it had to be a sign of impending disaster.

“Who do you belong to?” he asked, head tilting toward the clubhouse. “Who’s yours?”

A chill overtook her. Her mouth felt dry, suddenly. “Candyman,” she said, and shoved the coffee toward him. The moment he took the mug, she stepped away, fumbling with her purse and keys. “Thanks for fixing my tire.”

“Hey…”

She didn’t slow down or look back, just hopped in her Jeep and was gone. It was that or give him the chance to see the anxiety steal over her, andthatshe wasn’t doing.

Seven

Jenny

It was a cloudless sky tonight, as the sun prepared for its dramatic descent. Jenny leaned back in her wicker chair and propped her feet up on the matching footstool. Her one feminine place in this clubhouse, the back porch off the sanctuary, with her unobstructed view of the sunset. She sipped her glass of cheap merlot and felt it start to work in moments, the warm release of tension in her veins.

The door behind her creaked open and heavy boots clomped across the porch. She didn’t need to turn her head to see that it was her brother sitting down in the chair beside her; no one else would dare.

“It’s gonna be a good one,” Candy said, gesturing to the sky.

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