Page 58 of Snow in Texas

Maybe –

“Christ, you’re terrible,” Fox said beside him, voice flat. “Are you really that lovesick?”

“No.” He shoved his phone away and shot the man a hard look.

A look Fox ignored. “Does it run in the family? Getting attached like that.”

Yet another reference to Mercy. When would people quit dragging his brother into every damn conversation?

Fox took a thoughtful drag on his cig and glanced away. “God love Jen. Wonderful girl. But you know she isn’t the settling down type, yeah? She’s not looking to be anyone else’s old lady.”

Anger spiked in his chest, a hot burst that traveled up his throat and tightened his jaw. “How would you know?”

Fox shrugged. “She’s lonely, is all. Every once in a while, she gets lonely enough to climb into someone’s bed. But she never stays there long.”

It didn’t make a whole lot of sense to Colin, the way it became suddenly hard to breathe, the way his hands curled into fists, the way his vision seemed to narrow and darken around the edges, until all he saw was the laid-back Englishman beside him. He couldn’t explain the way his voice sounded choked when he said, “And I guess you’d know that from experience?”

Another shrug. Totally casual. “We shagged a few times. While back. Reckon she needed to let off some steam.” He turned toward Colin…and for the first time since their meeting, Colin saw something like apprehension flash in his blue eyes. “Hey, wait, I didn’t mean–”

~*~

Jenny

Darla had been busy baking. Three plates of a variety of cookies and a bunt cake sat on the bar when Jenny walked into the clubhouse after work. The scents of sugar, cinnamon, vanilla, and orange zest blended in a thick, sweet cloud that she passed through on her way to the kitchen. She propped a shoulder in the doorjamb and surveyed the carnage: bowls stacked in the sink, dusting of flour and powdered sugar on the countertops, dribbled clumps of dough, empty bags of chocolate chips sticking out of the trash can.

“Stress-baking?” Jenny guessed with a smile.

Darla dashed at her forehead with the back of her hand, leaving a smudge of flour behind. Her black apron was coated in the stuff, and her hair was pale with it. “Nothing to be stressed about,” she said with a tired huff. “Just realized all the eggs were on the verge of going bad.”

“Gotcha.” Jenny made a mental note not to eat any of the cookies. “Are you–”

The front door of the clubhouse flew open with a crash, and she jumped.

Darla exclaimed in alarm.

It took Jenny a second to rectify the truly murderous, towering man walking toward her with the goofus she’d learned Colin to be.

“Hey,” she said carefully, stepping toward him. “What are you–”

“Come with me.” His hand darted out and latched onto her wrist, his grip crushing, and he tugged her off balance and dragged her after him as he charged down the hall toward the sanctuary.

“Hey!” she protested. But there was no pulling away from him. She stumbled to keep up with his long strides, anger kindling. “What the hell are you doing? Let go of me. Why do you smell like shit?”

And he did. He reeked.

“I stepped in some,” he muttered, yanking her along.

Jenny tried to plant her feet and her boot heels skidded on the hardwood. She’d known he was strong, but this was ridiculous! “Ah!” she yelped, stumbling and landing against his back. “Colin!” she demanded. “Colin whatever-your-middle-name-is Lécuyer, stopright now!”

That got his attention. He halted just outside the sanctuary door and shot a glare over his shoulder at her. “What did you just call me?”

“I…” She realized, belatedly, that she’d used Mercy’s last name. Shit. But she wasn’t in the mood to be gentle with his feelings, after he’d just manhandled her. “That’s your real name,” she snapped. “Not that you’d admit it. Now let go of me, you asshole!”

He didn’t. Instead, he dragged her into the sanctuary and slammed the door. Only then did he release her.

And then she realized how badly it had frightened her, being dragged like that. The shakes hit her all at once, full-body and debilitating. Her teeth chattered and her skin prickled. She hugged herself to stop the onslaught, but it was no use.

“You asshole,” she hissed, sinking down into Candy’s chair. “What the hell?”

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