A Texas Hero. Linda Warren

      “It will be completely dark soon, so we have to find a place to bed down.” He stood, placed his T-shirt over one shoulder and fitted the lid over the well. He placed the pitcher on top.

      She followed him into the almost completely dark cabin. “My stomach is complaining and I’m starving.”

      “It’s the cool water on an empty stomach. It’s reminding you of how empty it is. Try not to think about it.” Handing her his shirt, he tested one of the mattresses. “They seem okay. It’s better than sleeping on the ground.” He dragged one outside and placed it on the porch and then went back for another. He situated them about twelve feet apart, making it more than clear that kissing wasn’t happening again.

      He plopped onto a mattress, removed his shoes, and stretched out. “Ah, this feels good. I can get a good night’s rest.”

      “You’re kidding, right? Snakes could be inside the mattresses.”

      “I’m exhausted and going to sleep. You can stand guard and watch out for snakes.”

      “Ethan.”

      “Mmm.”

      “What do you want me to do with your shirt?”

      “Lay it out on the floor to dry.”

      “I’m not your maid.”

      “Fine. Throw it to me.”

      She aimed for his face and he caught it effortlessly. Darkness crept around them, hiding the dry, parched earth. The only illumination was the moon, which hung high in the sky like a huge night-light. She slid down to the mattress and tested it. Bouncy and soft. That was good.

      Slipping off her shoes, she tried to relax. She was being testy for no reason. That was Ethan’s department, but his cavalier attitude about their out-of-this-world kiss annoyed her. He acted as if it was just another kiss. It wasn’t. Or was it? She drew a deep breath. Due to the circumstances, she was blowing this way out of proportion. And being a complete bitch, she couldn’t let it go.

      “Are you seeing someone?”

      After a long moment, he replied, “No.”

      “I’m not either, if that matters.”

      “It doesn’t.”

      “I thought you might be feeling guilty.”

      “I’m not. Now, go to sleep.”

      “I’m not sleepy.”

      “Lie down and close your eyes. That’s what most people do.”

      She thought of doing that, but her mind was filled with thoughts about the day, the heat, Ethan and the night. Not to mention her dad and Chloe. She hoped her dad wasn’t worried too much. How could he not be? His only child had been taken hostage in a bank robbery.

      The warm wind brushed across her face, reminding her that she was alive. And soon her dad would know that, too. With water, there was no doubt they could make it to safety. She’d say goodbye to Ethan and they’d go their separate ways.

      She touched her lips and remembered the kiss. Maybe she could say goodbye in another way. Did she have that much nerve?

      “Ethan.”

      CHAPTER SIX

      ETHAN IGNORED THE soft voice that triggered emotions he’d rather not have. Shouldn’t have. But he had to admit for the first time in years his resistance to the opposite sex had reached an all-time low. Against his better judgment, he’d kissed her. And didn’t want to stop. She was as tempting as a drink of water from the pitcher and he couldn’t get enough.

      After the comment about sucking the sweat from his chest, he couldn’t get that image out of his head. And he was a man who didn’t fantasize. Ever. Except in his teens and early twenties. And occasionally since then. Okay, he was lying to himself now. He didn’t want to be attracted to Abby. As a police officer, he considered her under his care and protection. It was hell having to remind himself of that.

      “Ethan.”

      “Go to sleep.”

      “I’m worried about my little girl.”

      “I’m sure she’s fine. Doesn’t your dad have her?”

      “Doug probably has her by now. I don’t want him to tell her what happened. She’ll be scared.”

      “He’s a father. He won’t do that.”

      “I guess.” She jumped up at a chirping sound. “What’s that?”

      “Crickets. They’re harmless.”

      “I know, but they’re very loud.” She pulled the mattress closer to his. “It might be something else.”

      “It isn’t. Lie down and go to sleep.”

      She sat on the mattress, but didn’t lie on it. “Aren’t you worried about your daughter?”

      He sighed. “What do you hear when I say go to sleep?”

      “I’m sorry. I feel as if I’ve had a double espresso. I’m wired and restless. Could we talk for just a minute? It might help me to relax.”

      “Why do women always want to talk?”

      “Oh, I don’t know, why do men want to drink beer and watch sports?”

      “So we don’t have to talk.”

      “Too bad. We’re talking.”

      He groaned, wondering if he was ever going to win with this woman. She should have been a lawyer.

      “Is your daughter okay with your dad?”

      He wasn’t going to answer. Putting his hands behind his head, he stared out at the dark sky. A wide swatch of black velvet with millions of twinkling rhinestones covered it, or so it seemed. The moon hung like a big spotlight enhancing the glow of the rhinestones. It was beautiful. Relaxing.

      Before he knew it, he began to speak. “Kelsey’s...”

      “What a pretty name.”

      “I didn’t pick it.”

      “Mmm. So she’s okay with your dad?”

      “Maybe. Maybe not.”

      “What does that mean?”

      “It means it’s complicated. Now...”

      “No, I’m not going to sleep,” she snapped. “Tell me about your dad and your daughter.”

      He turned to gaze at her through the darkness. “You can be annoying.”

      “Do you want me to tell you what you’re like?”

      “No. I know what I’m like.”

      “Good. So continue.”

      He stared at the starry rhinestones, wondering if he could bore her to sleep if he kept talking. He understood her anxieties. There were a lot of dangers out here, but he couldn’t dwell on that. They had to rest for the walk tomorrow.

      “My dad is a country cowboy, born and raised in Willow Creek, Texas. He has a ranch and works the land like his father before him. He’s a simple man and not too knowledgeable about today’s teenagers. When my daughter arrived with her long dyed-black hair with a purple streak, black jeans and T-shirt, painted black nails and toenails with three earrings in each ear, it was a bit of a shock.”

      “Oh, my.”

      “The first thing he said was, ‘Son of a bitch, the aliens have landed.’”

      “Oh, no.”

      “I had to have a talk with him. His vocabulary is a bit colorful and I asked him to curb his