Page 9 of Snow in Texas

“Flirt with me? Charm me? Fuck me? Save your breath, prospect. There’s plenty of groupies. And my guess is you won’t be around long enough to work your way through all of them.” She set off at a brisk walk, boot heels clicking.

For the first time in his life, Colin had struck out.

It fascinated him. Well…shedid.

Six

Colin

He settled into a routine. Chores, menial tasks, general go-foring. He tended bar most evenings alongside Pup. He dug through each hauled-in wreck for scrap parts. The club ran a towing and salvage business; at least, that was the business Colin was told about. And day by day, he was given more to do on that front; less housework, more chances to earn a paycheck.

Darla made dinner most nights, and breakfast a lot of the time. But lunch was always Gabe’s. And Jenny, who managed to slip in and out of the clubhouse without much more than a flicker of blonde hair or a quick glimpse of boot sole.

Colin’s curiosity was a wild, howling thing, but he was too prideful to ask anyone who she was. He wanted the answer straight from her lips. And until she was ready to give it, he would enjoy the game.

~*~

It was a Friday. He was up early. Colin supposed sleeping in was a luxury afforded patched members, which gave him all the more reason to survive his prospect year and make Dog. He left his dorm, shrugging into his cut, and heard Darla puttering around in the kitchen, the smell of coffee reaching out to welcome him.

He paused to lean into the kitchen. “What’s on the menu today?” he asked. He was a total brown-noser when he wanted to be, and so deeply Southern it wasn’t funny, so he knew the wisdom that lay in charming mother-types.

Darla stood at the stove, apron tied around her waist, hair pinned back. She shot him a look that was both exasperated and adoring. “Hash brown casserole and cinnamon buns. Does that work for you?”

He grinned. “Yes, ma’am. You got any coffee ready yet?”

She poured a cup with the speed and grace of a talented truck stop waitress and passed the mug over. “Remember to bring that back when you’re done. I don’t wanna go looking all over creation for my mugs.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

The clubhouse was empty, as per usual. Colin carried his mug out the front door, intending to load the truck so he could squeeze in three loads to the dump before the inevitable lunch run. He didn’t want to miss lunch. Even if Jenny was waiting tables and all he got was a passing frown, he wanted to be there for that.

He ground to a halt halfway across the dusty parking lot, rooted in place by the unexpected, but welcome sight of Jenny standing right in his path.

The sun was only a blush along the horizon, and her hair looked silver, her denim ensemble gray in the pale dawn light. She stood alongside the Jeep Liberty he’d learned was hers, holding her gorgeous hair back with both hands at the nape of her neck, lip caught between her teeth as she stared at the front left tire.

“Damn it,” he heard her whisper, viciously, painfully, her voice full of emotion that seemed overkill for a flat tire.

“Need a hand?” he asked.

She jumped. She leapt back from her Jeep, hands lifting in what was obviously a defensive move, eyes wide and wild, glowing blue through the gloom. She gasped, then released her breath in a long, aggravated rush.

“You,” she said.

“You need a hand?” Colin repeated. “Or are you gonna pretend you can change your own tire just to get rid of me?”

She glared at him, and he thought the harsh slant of her brows was cute. “I knowexactlyhow to change my own tire.”

“Can you, though?”

Her lips compressed. “I can’t ever get the lug nuts loose.”

He stepped close, into her personal space, and watched her try her best to draw back from him without taking a step in retreat. Whatever was wrong with his chick, it was bad wrong; it had nothing to do with him, and if he was honest, he was starting to worry that someone around here was hitting her or something.

Someplace he couldn’t see, though, because her face and arms were flawless.

He frowned.

“What?”

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