Page 96 of Surly Sheriff
Yet here he was, taking the stairs two at a time,worryingabout her.
And Jack, of course.
After Bella’s irresponsible words, had Rae told the boy he was his daddy?
The ferocious barking of a dog started up, and the living room curtain twitched. The canine pushed aside the flimsy material and peered out. She barked again, but not quite as menacing as before. Another head peeked through the gap.
Jack.
His son.
“It’s Mister Beau, Momma,” Jack yelled, his voice muffled by the window.
Beau lifted his hand and waved.
Jack grinned and waved back.
Warmth washed through Beau.
Dog and child disappeared behind the curtains.
He heard the jingle of the security chain and the lock turning. Jack pulled the door open. “Hey, Mister Beau.”
Xena pushed her way between him and her charge, baring her teeth with a deep-throated growl.
“Hey, kid.” He resisted reaching out and tousling Jack’s hair. Instead, he met the dog’s stare. “Hello, Xena.”
Xena tilted her head, and her lips settled into a less menacing look. Beau had the funny feeling the hound was looking right into his soul, searching out his true intentions. “Woof!” she barked, wagging her tail. She moved aside.
Beau took it as an invitation to enter.
“Momma’s in the kitchen,” Jack said, closing the door. He turned the lock and stretched his arm up to push the chain back in place.
The security consciousness of the kid both pleased and bothered Beau.
WhatwasRae mixed up in?he thought, trailing Jack and Xena through the living room to the kitchen.
The enticing aroma was almost as wonderful as the sight greeting him. Rae stood behind the stove, her hair secured in a dark plait down the middle of her back. The frayed edges on her cutoff jeans stuck out beneath the hem of the overlong sleeveless tee. He wanted to step in behind her, drop a kiss on that sensitive spot behind her ear, and whisper his love while running his hand under the shirt and over her skin and—
Fuck.He dropped his head and rubbed the back of his neck.
For a moment he had forgotten the intervening years and everything that had happened between then and now.
He forgotten that she was a lying, deceiving, cold-hearted woman.
And that she had walked out on him.
Withheld his son from him.
She cleared her throat.
His gaze shot to her.
“Beau,” she greeted, her look cool and detached.
“Rae,” he returned, all heated and frustrated and impatient.
“Mister Beau, do you like puzzles?”
