Page 23 of Snow in Texas

She felt good behind him, her legs jacked up so her feet could rest on the pegs, breasts cushioned against his back, arms tight around his waist. Her feelings about him notwithstanding, she knew she had to hold on, and she did tightly, letting her weight shift naturally with his as he turned out of the clubhouse parking lot and headed up the street.

A gorgeous, cloudless day, the sun hot and the air dry, smelling of desert things. The wind scraped at his face. He felt little wisps of her long blonde hair that were swept forward and tickled at the backs of his ears.

How different it was, riding with a passenger. Alone, there was a sense of weightless freedom. With a woman behind him, he felt this heavy responsibility…but a certain security too. A warm presence against his spine, keeping him company in the lonely bubble that existed on the road, where a man and his bike became something entirely apart from the world around them.

They’d gone about five miles when Jenny tapped his shoulder and then pointed off to a side street that was rearing up on the right.

Colin turned down it, slowing and then gunning the throttle again, the Night Train leaping with a growl. It was a narrow, twisty street, which he hadn’t been expecting. They plunged down a sudden hill that made his stomach drop and thick pale rocks crowded up toward the edge of the pavement, jagged, striated formations that cast shadows on the asphalt.

Jenny tapped him on the shoulder again. “Pull over here!” she shouted above the wind.

He did, finding a flat place in the lee of a truck-sized boulder.

Jenny hopped off the bike in one elegant spring, like she’d been doing it all her life.

“Something the matter?” he asked.

“No.” She took off her helmet and shook out her hair, heavy tresses glimmering like water. “Just wanted to check something.” She turned and stepped over a clump of scrubby bushes, heading around behind the rock.

Colin followed, not half as graceful.

Jenny stood on the far side of the rock, hands on her hips, squinting at the uneven expanse of stone just in front of her nose.

“What?” he asked, drawing up beside her.

“I don’t – ah, there it is.” She lifted a finger and pointed at a spot on the boulder. “Right here.”

Nearly weathered away by time and the elements were a series of symbols chiseled into the rock by something crude and makeshift. They were letters:

Derek was here

Lean Dogs Rule

Jenny turned a smile toward him. “My brother was eight when he did that. He used a screwdriver and a big rock as a hammer.”

“Derek. You mean Candyman’s not the name his mama gave him?” He laughed and delighted in the way she rolled her eyes and elbowed him in the ribs. It was like she’d forgotten that they were on wary footing. The bike ride seemed to have loosened her up.

“Did anybody tell you why he’s called Candy?” she asked.

“No. Care to shed some light?”

“Hmm. I don’t think that’s my story to tell.”

Colin huffed a breath and feigned dramatic frustration. “You and your secret stories, woman. You act like I’m five. I can handle a whole helluva lot, you know.”

“I know,” she said in a light, teasing voice. She turned and put her back to the rock, braced a boot back against it. “Mr. Gator Hunter.” She grinned. “Do you guys really haul them up by hand and shoot them in the head?”

“Absolutely, baby. Come to the swamp sometime and I’ll show you how.” He gave her the grin again, this time rewarded by a widening of her own smile.

“How barbaric.”

“You know men. We’re all cavemen, basically. Good beer, good sandwich, good fuck – and we’re good to go.”

“Charming. It’s a miracle we can ever resist any of you.”

“Isn’t it?”

He couldn’t believe this was the same woman from a half hour ago. If someone had told him she’d be teasing and flirting with him, he wouldn’t have believed it. But now he was getting all kinds of signals, from the way her chest was sticking out to the way her blue gaze was fixed on his mouth.

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