Page 14 of My Cowboy Salvation
“Thanks,” I say as I stir the sauce that I put together with some chopped onions, garlic, tomatoes, and oregano. “I hope you like chicken cacciatore.”
“It’s one of my favorites.”
A fact I already knew, remembering how he raved about it when he took me and Parker out for dinner for Parker’s seventeenth birthday. “I didn’t know when you would be finished so I have everything prepped and ready to go. It will only take about twenty minutes to put it together if you’re hungry now.”
“I’m famished. Let me go take a quick shower, and then I’ll be ready to join you.” He races up the stairs and a minute later, I hear the sound of the water running.
I imagine what he must look like naked as I start the water for the pasta when the doorbell rings. I freeze as a fresh, familiar sense of dread and terror rushes through me.
It can’t be. Simon couldn’t have found me already. I take some deep breaths as I continue to reason with myself. If it was Simon, he would hardly be ringing the doorbell of the home of the police chief, right?
Quietly, I creep to the front door, aware of the sound of the water turning off upstairs. There’s a pane of glass next to the door, and I peek out to see if I can make out who is visiting on a Sunday evening.
Tufts of blonde hair teased high come into view. Not him. My shoulders sag in relief, and I open the door. “Hi, can I help you?”
The woman standing there blinks twice in surprise, her perfectly plucked and tinted eyebrows pushing together in confusion. Her face is contoured in shades of taupe and beige, and her lips are as carefully drawn and painted a deep wine, all of which had to have taken easily an hour to do. Her long blonde hair cascades around her shoulders, reminding me of the long wavy hair I used to claim. I tug on the end of a short strand.
“S-sorry. I’m looking for Chief McCall.”
I realize she’s holding a dish in her arms. Or I do once I get past the blatant display of cleavage as her breasts appear ready to pop out of that blue dress. “He’s unavailable right now. Can I help you with something?”
She looks past me as if trying to catch a glimpse of him. “Well, I would be happy to wait if you wanted to let him know I’m here.”
“Hello?” I hear Logan say as he comes down the stairs, pulling a tee-shirt down over a solid, muscled torso, a simple motion that has both this woman and myself staring in appreciation.
“Chief McCall. There you are,” the woman says, recovering quickly. “I was just about to tell your, um, friend I was throwing together a casserole this afternoon and had some extra ingredients on hand. I thought I might make an extra one for you. And of course, no meal would be complete without my fresh corn muffins.”
“That’s very generous of you, Mariah.” He grins. “So you’ve met Dylan?”
“Well, briefly,” she says, barely sparing me a glance as she rakes her gaze over Logan. His hair is still wet and dripping on his tee-shirt, a shirt thin enough to give us a peek of chiseled pecs. “She was telling me you weren’t available.”
“I’ve spent the day doing some work out back and just finished up with a shower.” He runs his hand through the wet hair, inadvertently flexing his bicep as he does. He smells and looks mouthwatering, and I’m sure Mariah is thinking the same thing. The bitch. “It was nice of you to think of me, but it wasn’t necessary.”
“Oh, pfft, it’s the least I can do when you’re working so hard to keep our little town safe from drug dealers and murderers and the like.” She bats those thick, mascara-laden eyelashes. “Would you like me to bring this in for you?”
What I’d like is to push that dish up and back over the front of that woman’s generous cleavage, but I restrain myself. She is obviously here to stake some kind of claim on Logan. And since I’ve only been in town for a week, I don’t know exactly what that claim might be.
“Actually, that’s not necessary, Mariah. Here,” he says, stepping forward to take the casserole dish from her, careful to keep the bag of muffins from falling from the top. “Dylan was kind enough to make dinner already, and we were just about to sit down to enjoy it. But this will be appreciated tomorrow night for sure.”
Mariah pauses, as if waiting for an invitation to join us, and I hold my breath, afraid that Logan might do that very thing since he’s always so polite. When he doesn’t follow up with anything more, Mariah smiles and places her hand over his. “I’m glad to be of help. Your guest,” she says, not ready to say my name, “will she be staying with you long?”
“Can’t rightly say. But thanks again for stopping by. You’re a gem.”
With that, there were no excuses left, and Mariah turns away. I follow Logan to the kitchen where he puts the casserole in the freezer, alongside four other full casserole dishes of various other patterns. Hmm. I get the feeling this wasn’t a one-off type of event.
Not that I’m surprised. Logan’s rugged good looks aren’t open for debate. He’s a tall, muscled man with a face as stunning as that physique. I would bet he attracts a lot of single women who would like to get to know the chief better, and I wonder how much better he’s gotten to know them, too.
“She seems… nice,” I say, not really sounding convincing as I return my attention to the water that’s reached a rapid boil. Carefully, I pour in the pasta and set the timer.
“Mariah? Yeah. She’s nice enough. Runs the local insurance agency in town.”
“I think she was angling for an invitation to join us for dinner. Well, join you, anyway.”
“Probably.” He opens the fridge and grabs a beer. He holds it out to me first, and I shake my head, before he turns the cap off and takes a slug.
“Do women normally stop by your house with offerings of food?”
His blue eyes gleam as he returns my stare, almost like he’s enjoying my jealousy. “Now and then.”
