Page 40 of Seaside Cowboy's Fairy Tale

After the pharmacy visit, he steered his unharmed car to the florist. Stalling? It wasn’t like he wanted to have that mysterious conversation Rachel had hinted at. He dreaded it.

His rib cage tightened as he carried red roses to the car, the flowers spreading their amazing aroma. He slammed the car door he’d closed more forcefully than he should have.

What was it going to be? That they couldn’t see each other any longer?

He started the engine and drove off, then glanced at the roses in the passenger seat. The bouquet might be a cliché, but he didn’t know her favorite flowers. Kennedy didn’t, either, when he’d asked her, though how much she knew about his Cinderella he wasn’t sure. The two of them knowing each other at all still seemed odd. At least, according to Kennedy, Rachel didn’t have allergies, unlike Kennedy herself. His family still teased his brother about one of his first meetings with his now wife when Austin had brought her hibiscuses and Kennedy nearly sneezed him away.

How could Tex possibly help Rachel and take care of her while she recovered without putting her in danger by his mere presence? He rubbed his forehead before returning his hand to the steering wheel, then pressed the brake pedal to stop at the red light. He tamped down his irritation.

Why was it when one was in a hurry—and he was in a hurry to see Rachel—lights always turned red?

He was a grown man who told other people what to do, but on some occasions, he still came to the same person for advice. So he called his mother on the hands-free phone and shared his dilemma. Then he groaned.

“I mean if I mean danger for her, wouldn’t letting her go be the right thing to do?”Lord, what should I do?“On the other hand, I can’t leave her to her own devices while she’s in recovery. And, Mom, since she’s been shot, I’ve gone through such an emotional roller coaster. It’s difficult to believe this incredible girl’s begun to mean so much to me in such a short time.” And yet she had.

“Here’s your solution.” Mom had never disappointed, and she didn’t now, either. “Bring Rachel to the ranch. I’ve got plenty of spare rooms because you all moved out. And I installed a security system after the break-in at Austin and Kennedy’s place.”

He bristled as he released the brake pedal and moved forward on the green light. “I’d never put you in danger.”

“Oh please.” She snorted. “I’ve got rifles and know how to use them. Besides, we’ve got dogs. Plus, I can ask Darius to stay these next few weeks in the room you two used to share, and the rest of your brothers live nearby. Except you.”

Tex swallowed hard at a jab he probably deserved. “I have my reasons.” Eager to get to Rachel as soon as possible, he passed a navy-blue truck with decals curtaining its back window.

“You sure do. I’m proud of all you've accomplished and appreciate your help paying the ranch expenses.” Her voice softened. “It’s going to be a safer place for her than an apartment in a bad neighborhood. And, if I might suggest it, I want you to stay here, as well, while the police are searching for the shooter or shooters. We don’t know for sure if the target is Rachel or you.”

He flinched as he made a sharp turn too fast, the tires squealing in protest. He didn’t even want tothinkRachel could be the target. He’d rather be targeted himself. “I’ll talk to Rachel. She’s very independent, though.”

“Yeah, reminds me ofsomeone. After you talk to her, call me and give me her phone number. I can be rather persuasive.”

He chuckled as he passed another car, an SUV with its back window also covered, but this one by dust. Except for the inscription “wash me” someone had done with their finger. “Persuasive? That’s what you call railroading someone?”

His mother chuckled. “Okay, just invite her for lunch, and we’ll work from there.”

“Okay. Love you, Mom.”

“Love you, too.” She disconnected.

Minutes later, he was in Rachel’s apartment. He might’ve run there from the car, but that was because she needed her bandages changed. His heartbeat picked up at the sight of her. Her black T-shirt displaying her favorite rock band hung untucked over slouchy sweatpants, and he’d never seen a more beautiful woman in the world.

Just like he’d expected, she waved off the flowers. “You shouldn’t have brought me roses.”

Mice squeaked when he entered the apartment. Maybe they already started recognizing him. He waved at the cage.

“You don’t like roses?” Good. She wasn’t sneezing. The flowers’ aroma overplayed the sweet scent of oranges. He visually scoured the apartment for a vase, though he hadn’t seen one while cleaning up the other day.

“I love them, but...” She spread her left arm. “I don’t even have a vase.”

“My bad. I should’ve bought you one.” He settled on a tall bottle, filled it with water from the kitchen sink, and arranged it on the dresser. “Is here okay?”

“Splendid. Bossy, huh?” She jammed her left hand on her hip while her right one remained in the sling, reminding him of a bird with a broken wing.

Oh how he wanted to take her into his arms and nurse her back to health! He forced himself to stay in one place and shrugged. “Just a habit. How do you feel?”

He searched for any signs the doctor had warned about, like a fever signaling the wound might be infected. “Not dizzy, not feverish?” He cupped a palm on her forehead, then jerked back. Even touching her for medical purposes affected him. “Your forehead feels normal, but maybe we should check your temperature.”

She rolled her eyes, but her lips lifted a bit. “I’m fine. Well, as fine as can be under the circumstances. A little weak, but that’s to be expected.”

“Please sit down. I hope you didn’t overdo anything with your right arm.”

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