Playing With Fire (Tangled in Texas #2) - Alison Bliss Page 0,34

inside my small rental home, surrounded by my own things, made me feel better. Safer, even. My quaint cottage held only sparse, simple furnishings, such as a small flat-screen TV and an eggshell-colored love seat, but it was my comfort zone. My sanctuary.

I loved everything about it. From the plain white lace curtains adorning the living room windows to the delicate pink rose wallpaper in the narrow hallway. Not to mention the hundreds of books on the two huge bookcases which commandeered an entire wall behind my beige reading chair.

Cowboy raised a brow. “You read all those?”

I nodded. “I enjoy reading.”

He lifted a romance book I’d left lying in my chair, scanned the title, and chuckled. “Sounds like some kind of guidebook for birth control, rather than a romance.”

Mentally cringing, I moved into the tiny kitchen to keep from awarding him with the blush I felt slowly creeping into my cheeks. His boots clomped on the floor behind me, signaling he’d followed. I glanced over my shoulder and caught sight of him eyeing the steaming white teapot on the glass-top stove.

“I was preparing a cup of tea when I heard the popping sounds coming from outside,” I explained, my voice shaking a little.

“Would you like a cup?” he asked.

I nodded and opened the cabinet nearest the sink, where I kept my good china and a small box of tea bags.

“Sit down,” he ordered, reaching over me and taking them from my hands. “I’ll get it for you.”

Wordlessly, I obeyed his command and sat at the small round dining room table. I reached over and flipped the switch on an electronic warming plate that held a vanilla-scented candle in a glass jar, needing the calming Zen the aromatherapy would provide. Then I took a couple of slow, deep breaths.

It was hard to believe Cowboy was inside my home, much less making me a cup of hot tea. Every vision I’d had in the last week of him being here with me had always had way more to do with my bedroom than a kitchen. And the thought of Cowboy and me anywhere near a bed together made my heart race and my breath quicken. Not that I’d ever tell him that, though.

My irritating mind used the pleasant fantasy against me to slowly drive me insane. I’d be leaving in a few months. Besides that, Cowboy had never been attracted to me. How could he be? Especially now when I resembled a worn, wrung-out mop.

Standing outside in the wind had dried my damp hair, but now it felt like an unruly ball of tangled twine on top of my head. Drab, stringy, and no doubt completely unflattering. Then again, I doubted he’d even notice. Cowboy’s only interest in me had to do with him bedding a woman who’d turned him down flat. That’s what he’d said, after all: I’m intrigued by you because you didn’t want anything to do with me.

Cowboy brought over two cups of the aromatic tea, placed one in front of me, and plopped down in the empty chair beside me with his cup still in his hand. He brought it to his lips and took a large swallow before cringing, making a god-awful face, and setting the cup down. He pushed it away from him. “That tastes like shit.”

I dunked my tea bag a couple of times and cautiously took a sip from my cup. As I swallowed, the warm, fragrant liquid traveled down my throat, soothing me from the inside out. Puzzled, I shook my head. “There’s nothing wrong with it.”

“Tastes like dirt and grass.”

I smiled lightly. “It’s herbal.”

He crooked his mouth and wrinkled his nose, as if he couldn’t understand why anyone would drink the earthy stuff. Then his green eyes flickered to the flameless candle warmer, which apparently reminded him why we were sitting there together. “Do you want to talk about it?” he asked softly.

I didn’t. Not really.

All the slow breathing I’d done earlier had helped lower my blood pressure and pulse rate, but I suddenly felt both rising once again. I’d carried the guilt over my mother’s death with me for so long. Maybe it was time I let someone in and get it off my chest. But then I wondered what he’d think of me once he knew the truth, and the fear clamped my vocal chords into silence. Bringing the cup back to my lips, I took another sip and shook my head.

Cowboy’s eyes narrowed in determination. He took my cup