Gunslinger. Angi Morgan

soaked her shirt with the water hose.

      “Dammit, that was careless of me. Sorry.” Bryce wiped his eyes free of droplets still clinging to his skin.

      “Wow, that was a bit of a shock.” She fanned her shirt front, but didn’t run home.

      “I, uh...didn’t hear you come up.”

      “I hope so, because if you wanted to have a wet T-shirt contest... Well, you’d need a shirt.” She nodded toward him, wringing the edge of her shirt onto her multicolored toenails.

      Wait. What? Was she flirting with him?

      Without his glasses and with water dripping into his eyes, he could barely see her facial expression, just her bright smile. True wheat-blond hair was pulled into a ponytail and stuck through the back of a ball cap. She was the right height of about five feet eleven. She wasn’t rail-thin, but slender enough to be a teenage model who had left the business.

      “Come to think about it, we probably do have some guys on this street who wouldn’t mind serving as the judges. You’d win of course.”

      “Huh? Oh. Right.” He couldn’t think of anything to say.

      “You’re making a bigger puddle.” She pointed to his feet.

      Bryce jumped toward the faucet and turned off the water, cursing under his breath at his ineptness. He slowly stood, ready to see where this strange encounter would lead.

      “Bryce? I don’t mean to impose, but I need your help. That is, if you could spare a few minutes.”

      “I don’t have any plans.”

      She relaxed and let out a long sigh. “Oh good. It shouldn’t take long. I noticed that you have an extension ladder and wondered if you could get my pole saw out of the tree in my backyard.”

      “Sure.” Flirting? Wishful thinking was more like it.

      He retrieved the ladder from the garage and headed down the middle of the small town street.

      “Need help?”

      “Not at all, I got this.”

      She was already walking next to him as if she’d known how he would answer. The ladder was more awkward than heavy. Sort of like their conversation. He had an opportunity now and couldn’t think of anything he might ask that wouldn’t sound suspicious.

      Last thing he needed was for her to take off and disappear. He’d never hear the end of that at the office.

      “I’ve noticed that you don’t talk much.”

      “Not really. If I’m honest, I haven’t gotten much practice lately.” He rested the ladder on the inside of her fence as she worked the combination lock on the gate. If she wasn’t the former Sissy Tenoreno, something had happened to Kylie Scott to make her overcautious.

      “Are we being honest?” She smiled shyly, focusing on removing the lock.

      The temperature should have dropped when they walked under the oak shade tree. But he could swear it rose several degrees when she stole a look before she pushed up her sunglasses.

      In the past couple of weeks, he’d never seen her eyes up close. Even without his glasses, her long eyelashes, tinted a rich dark brown, hadn’t hidden the quick peek she’d taken of his chest.

      Instead of the bright blue eyes from her modeling days, they were a deep dark brown—almost black—when she didn’t hide behind mirrored shades. Definitely not the color of Sissy’s, but the shape...

      No doubt remained.

      Kylie Scott was the woman he’d been searching for.

      * * *

      KYLIE OPENED THE gate and Bryce grabbed the ladder on the other side. She dropped the lock back through the slots, then removed it before he noticed—hopefully. It was silly to be so paranoid.

      But paranoia had taught her to be hypervigilant with her safety. She wasn’t used to leaving the locks out of place.

      Even when no one appeared to be on the street. Even when she had a very capable-looking man standing next to her, it went against her habits to leave the gate unlocked. But she managed it by sticking the padlock inside her pocket.

      “I was trimming a dead limb and the saw got stuck.”

      “Lucky I was around.”

      “I have some iced tea. Can I get you some?”

      “That would be great.”

      “Okay.” She rubbed her palms together and stepped to the porch. She tried to turn her back on Bryce and walk like a normal person through her kitchen door.

      It didn’t happen. She hesitated, waiting for him to lean the ladder on the tree. He just watched her act like an unsteady idiot. Bryce was practically a stranger. She’d only met him a couple of times in town.

      “I hope you like it sweetened. That’s all I have.”

      “Sure. I’ll get this down.”

      “Thanks so much. It’s stuck up there pretty good.” Oh my gosh. She was babbling, trying to wait him out. If he’d just look away, she could dart into the kitchen.

      Kylie had never been a normal teenage girl, but she was certain this was how they acted. Flushed, embarrassed, unsure of themselves—everything that she was experiencing for the first time. She’d been a full-time employee by the time she’d reached puberty. The boys she’d known back then had never been mature enough for her tastes.

      Needless to say, the men who accepted her as an adult at that age hadn’t been good for her. Well, spilled milk and all that...whatever the saying was. She’d moved past it. She was in a good place and didn’t have to think about that any longer.

      Throwing her shoulders back, she turned, leaving herself vulnerable to a nonexistent attack. She slid the glass door open and marched to the refrigerator for the pitcher. Two glasses sat on a pretty little tray she’d picked up at the antique shop this week. She added a freshly sliced lemon to a matching bowl and poured the tea.

      Five years. She’d survived five years. Her life was changing and it was time to keep her promise to herself. If she could survive this long without being discovered, it was time to start living again.

      Taking a second, she watched Bryce tug on the pole trying to free the tiny saw. He arranged the ladder soundly in place, shook it a little to see if it was steady, then climbed.

      It had been a very long time since she’d allowed herself friends. Then again, being Bryce’s friend wasn’t too high on her agenda. She’d watched him out in the yard fixing up Mrs. Mackey’s rental. He’d stopped by the pie shop while she’d been at lunch.

      It might be a coincidence, but Hico was a very small town. If there was a visitor here for a couple of hours, a resident was likely to encounter them a couple of times. So running into a neighbor at the store and pie shop was almost predictable.

      She hadn’t been the only woman catching a second or third glimpse of his straight nose and dimpled chin. A constant five o’clock shadow had never done anything for her before getting a look at Bryce. She was full-blown giddily attracted to every muscle his tight T-shirts exploited.

      The view as he climbed the ladder wasn’t helping to cool her heat.

      Mrs. Mackey had praised Bryce’s ability as a handyman and suggested his skills not be wasted while he was living on their street. At face value her statement had been so innocent. Then the other ladies who had conveniently stopped by the museum had all giggled.

      “If they could see you right now, they’d probably faint or have heart attacks. They definitely would if they knew what my plans for him are.” She took the dish towel and fanned her flaming cheeks. Dipping her head, she closed her eyes, embarrassed by her desires. “What are you thinking, Kylie? Yes, it’s been a while. But you can’t