Page 69 of The Cowboy Comes Home

She made the turn and headed down the relatively short road. It was a small, newer development, and she’d jumped on the opportunity to buy the end unit that looked out over a grassy park. She loved that it was built from the same light-colored limestone that so many Last Stand buildings—including the famous saloon—were.

“Nice,” Tucker said as she pulled into her driveway, hitting the opener as she did and watching the garage door rise. “Double garage.”

“I didn’t need that much when I bought it, but it’s great now that I’m driving both my own car and the K9 unit.”

It was odd, but now that they were here, she was nervous. She first realized it when she found herself chattering.

“It’s only got two bedrooms, but the rooms are all big, with high ceilings and lots of windows. And a killer air-conditioning system I give thanks for every summer.”

A glance told her he was smiling, but she supposed that could be at her inane babbling as much as what she’d said. She hit the button to close the big door, then went to let Lobo out.

“Lead the way, dog,” she said, and he trotted off toward the door to the inside. It had a lever door handle which the clever animal had learned to maneuver almost instantly. Before Lobo she used to lock it out of force of habit, but between the garage door, the alarm system, and the dog, she figured she’d have plenty of warning if necessary. And the dog just had too much fun letting himself in.

“So he really is that smart,” Tucker said as they stepped inside.

“He is. He’ll do a room-by-room check, then he’ll be back,” she said as the first bit of cool air hit. She’d programmed it for today only guessing at when she and Lobo would be back, so now the place was thoroughly cooled down because they were a bit later.

But look who we brought home…

“Wow.”

He stood in the entry, looking toward the spacious main room. She wondered how it looked to him, with her white walls and furniture, the light gray drapes and area rugs, all enlivened here and there with splashes of a vivid blue.

When he turned slightly to his right, she knew what had caught his eye. He walked toward the large, framed artwork on the wall above the couch.

“That’s the same drawing that’s in the saloon, isn’t it?”

“Yes. The one that’s also in the library, the police station, and several other places in town, including the banner ofThe Defender.”

She saw the corner of his mouth lift. “I kind of like that the symbol of the town is the saloon.”

“Seems fitting, given that’s where the last stand took place.”

He turned back to her. “Nic told me that story. Pretty amazing. She said the Highwaters and the Raffertys—” he glanced down at Lobo who, his inspection complete, was back at their feet, looking up at her expectantly “—were there for the fight and have been here ever since.”

She nodded. “They were. And a Highwater has been in law enforcement and another has owned the saloon ever since. The chief says it makes for some interesting family Sunday dinners.”

Something flickered in his gaze then, and she wondered if he’d ever known the kind of gatherings she was talking about, where a family gathered to maintain the bond between them. She guessed probably not, at least not since his father had been killed. Of course many hadn’t grown up in a family where it was the rule rather than the exception to get together and actually connect.

“Speaking of dinner,” she said quickly, shifting her attention to Lobo because she didn’t know what to say to Tucker, “ready for yours?”

The dog gave a little yip, as if he were any pampered pet wondering what was taking his human so long to get the message. When she got the container of the customized food she fed him at night out of the fridge, Tucker let out a laugh.

“No wonder he wanted to wait. That stuff looks darn good. On human terms.”

“I think it is,” she admitted as she warmed it up to room temperature in the microwave. “But I think he deserves it, after a long day of work.”

“And do you fix yourself something as nice?”

“Sometimes. But sometimes,” she admitted as she set the bowl down and Lobo went for it hungrily, “I just go for what’s easy and on hand. Makes for some…interesting combinations.”

“Bet you couldn’t beat my pork and beans with scrambled eggs,” he drawled. “And that was for dinner.”

She laughed. “That actually sounds delicious to me. For any meal.”

He smiled back at her, but it was different this time, not just an amused smile, or in thanks for her laughing. And when he spoke his voice had dropped into a low, husky timbre that sent a shiver rippling through her as he said, “Then we’ll get along fine.”

And then he was kissing her, and it was everything, no it was more than she ever could have imagined. His lips were warm, firm, and tempting. There was no decision to make for her, not now. She’d made it long ago. Maybe that very first time he’d grinned at her, over Lobo giving him permission to pet him. She remembered the jolt that grin had given her, and if she was as honest as she usually tried to be, she hadn’t been the same since.

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