Playing With Fire (Tangled in Texas #2) - Alison Bliss Page 0,12

a lot of time with that man. I know he didn’t do it.” He sighed heavily. “Besides, none of it makes any sense. Why would Chief Swanson tie up his wife and leave her upstairs while he doused himself with an accelerant and…”

I wasn’t sure if Cowboy didn’t finish the sentence because he couldn’t say the words or just didn’t want to. Either way, I was relieved. “I’m so sorry. I’m sure it was tough. For you, I mean.”

He nodded and turned onto my road. “The other firefighters are all part of my extended family. It’s like someone telling me that my brother killed himself and his own wife when I know he didn’t.” He released a hard breath. “I just can’t prove it.”

I gaped at him, recalling the book I’d helped him locate. “That’s what Bobbie Jo was talking about earlier?”

“There are no other leads. I have to know what happened that night.”

Up ahead, the small white house I’d rented came into view. I nodded at it. “That’s where I live, the one with the blue shutters.”

He slowed, veered off the road, and rolled to a stop in front of my driveway to let me out. “Chief Swanson and his wife lived up the road, only about half a mile.”

I remembered passing by the charred rubble of a home nearby and even stopped to take a closer look. But, at the time, I didn’t know it had belonged to the chief. Dread flooded over me as torturous images flickered through my mind. I didn’t need or want any more sleepless nights than I already had.

Instead, I wanted to get out of the truck and walk away from the horrible pictures flashing through my head. Get as far away from them as I could. But I sat there for a second longer, feeling like I owed Cowboy some sort of comforting thought in return for the roadside assistance he had given me.

“No matter what happened to your chief, I’m sorry for your loss. It had to be devastating for you to lose someone so close.”

Cowboy gave me a quick nod. “You lost someone, too, right? In a fire?”

For some strange reason, I wanted to answer his question. But the moment I opened my mouth to do so, nothing came out. Damn it. Frustrated, I looked down and twisted my fingers together.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know I understand and you’re not alone.”

I glanced back up, meeting his unwavering gaze. Then I realized what he’d been trying to do. He’d hoped that by talking about his traumatic experience, I would open up to him about mine. “I…can’t.”

“If you ever want to talk about it, I might be able to help. Who better than a fireman, right?”

“Thank you,” I said softly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

As I reached for the door handle, he cocked his head and said, “You don’t like me, do you?”

Oh, hell. What could I say to that? I couldn’t forget how Cowboy had snapped me out of my panicky state and suppressed my inner demons. Like some kind of fairy tale with a brave knight who had courageously slain the maiden’s dragon and won her hand, as well as her heart. But I didn’t believe in fairy tales. Or knights in shining armor.

Because the one man I trusted—a man who swore he was saving me—ended up taking the one thing I loved most in this world. That knowledge left me with a dilemma. And it had Cowboy’s name written all over it. “It’s not that I don’t like you. It’s just…well, I’m a little quiet, that’s all.” And I had no intention of starting something I couldn’t finish.

“A little?” Cowboy chuckled at that. “Sweetheart, if you got any quieter, I’d check your pulse.” He smiled at me. “You know, I joke that Austin looks like a turtle, but he’s got nothing on you.”

I blinked with confusion. “Did you just refer to me as a turtle?”

“Yep. That’s what you remind me of. Judging by the way you acted tonight, I’d say you have a tendency to protect yourself by pulling in your limbs and head.” Then he grinned sinfully. “Bet I’d have one hell of a time breaking you out of your shell.”

I could only imagine why he’d think that would be fun. But I didn’t want him—or anyone, really—scraping at my innermost layers. That wasn’t what I moved here for. In less than six months, I’d be long gone. So the last