A Texas Hero. Linda Warren

goddamn he says shazam. For shit he says shih tzu.”

      “That’s a dog.”

      “Yes, and bull shih tzu sounds even worse. As does baboon or buffoon for bastard.”

      “What does he use for the f word?”

      “He’s an old cowboy and doesn’t use that word.”

      “That’s a relief.” He could almost see her smiling. “She’ll stay at his house until you return?”

      “I live with my dad. I guess I didn’t make that clear.”

      She laughed. A soft melodious sound that under other circumstances would have excited him. Now it irritated him.

      “You find that funny?”

      “Oh, yeah. Mr. Macho Cop living with his dad just doesn’t fit.”

      “I’m macho enough to make it work.”

      “I bet you are.” She laughed that sound again. “Have you always lived at home?”

      “I had an apartment in Austin, but my mom died about five years ago and I started going out to the ranch more and more because I knew my dad was lonely. He’s getting older and I noticed how much he’s slowed down. On my days off, I started helping him on the ranch. When it was late, I’d stay the night. I was using my apartment very little so I decided to move home. When I found out about Kelsey, I was glad I had a real home for her.”

      She jumped up again at a soft hoot. “Oh, oh, what’s that noise?”

      “It’s an owl. Haven’t you been in the country before?”

      “Once. When I was a Girl Scout. I think I was eight.” She pulled the mattress closer to his. He could reach out and touch her, which he wouldn’t.

      “I’m sorry about your situation, but I’m sure your dad and Kelsey will adjust, especially since they’re both worried about you.”

      “Not likely. Kelsey tends to ignore us. She stays in her room watching vampire movies and only comes out to eat.”

      “How sad.”

      “She’d agreed to go horseback riding this morning. That’s why I was in a hurry to get home.”

      “I’m so sorry for stopping on the highway like that. Everything was my fault.”

      He sat up, feeling restless and edgy. “In life things happen, so don’t beat yourself up too much.” He didn’t know why he was letting her off so easily. Maybe because there was no way to change what happened. And Abby would, if she could.

      “That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me.”

      “Mmm. I’m not known for niceness.”

      “How about with Kelsey?”

      He wrapped his arms around his knees. “I’m trying, but at this late date I’m not sure if we can form a father-daughter connection. I’ve enrolled her in school, but I worry how she’ll fit in. Willow Creek is a country school with country kids who wear Wranglers and boots. Some wear the low-rider jeans and T-shirts, but none have a purple streak in their hair.”

      “They wouldn’t dare make fun of Macho Cop’s kid.”

      “Bullying has even made it into country schools, so I’m not taking anything for granted. We’re supposed to meet with the principal soon. Kelsey’s grades are awful, barely passing. It’s not that she’s slow or has a learning problem. She reads all the time. She’s been in fifteen different schools as she was shuffled back and forth from her grandmother to Sheryl. She hasn’t spent a whole year in any school. If I can’t give her anything else, I want to give her a stable home where she can have family and friends.”

      The owl hooted through the trees, making them aware of where they were.

      “Are you sure that’s an owl?” She pulled the mattress until it touched his.

      “Positive. And does that make you feel safer?”

      “Yes.”

      He tightened his arms around his knees, marveling at how much he’d told her. He’d never opened up this much to any woman, including his mom. It had to be the night and the circumstances. Or it could be her. She was easy to talk to. Sometimes. Other times she drove him crazy. And he’d known her less than twenty-four hours.

      “Since you have me wide-awake, tell me about your storybook life.” Did he just ask her to talk? They were never going to get any sleep. His macho demeanor didn’t work on her.

      “Why do you think I’ve had a storybook life?”

      “You have that Princess-Barbie-sorority-girl look that comes with wealth and privilege.”

      “I resent that.” She came right back at him just as he knew she would.

      “What was your life like, then?”

      “Okay, maybe at first it was. My dad was president of a bank and we lived a good life. And, yes, they probably spoiled me.”

      “Probably?”

      “Shut up. I didn’t interrupt you.”

      He held up his hands. “Okay. Okay.”

      “My mom died in childbirth when I was ten. My baby brother died, too. She started hemorrhaging in her seventh month and the doctors couldn’t stop it. Dad and I were devastated. Mom was the foundation of our lives, and we didn’t know how to live without her. But eventually we had to start living again.”

      “That couldn’t have been easy for a ten-year-old.”

      “No, but time slowly coated the pain with lovely memories. It drew my dad and me closer. When I was fifteen, he started dating. That was a shock.” He could feel her moving restlessly. “The first time I met the woman I hated her. I thought she was after my dad’s money, but then I found out she had money from her wealthy first husband. So I told her she could never take my mother’s place and she would never be my mother.”

      “Wow. You must have been a real bitch at fifteen.”

      “I was hurt and I guess I thought if I hated her enough, he’d stop seeing her.”

      “And he didn’t?”

      “No. I apologized to both of them, but things never got better. When I moved into a dorm at the University of Texas, they got married and Gayle moved into our home. She slept in my mother’s bed. That drove me crazy.”

      “Why?”

      “I don’t know. It was my mom’s dream house. She designed it, decorated it. It was hers.”

      “Did you get over that feeling?”

      “Well, Dad finally sold the house and built Gayle her own home.”

      “Because of your feelings.”

      “Yes. I’m an awful person. Aren’t you glad you dragged that out of me?”

      “Nope, but I’m seeing you in a whole new light.”

      “As a bitch?”

      “Sort of.”

      She leaped onto his mattresses and punched him in the shoulder. “Oh, crap, that’s like hitting a wall.” She rubbed her hand.

      “Then don’t do it.”

      “Then don’t call me a bitch.” She sank down by him, her hip touching his thigh, which was too close for his comfort. Way too close.

      “I didn’t. You did,” he pointed out and knew he should move away. But he didn’t. “I hope things got better.”

      “I grew up and realized Dad deserved a life of his own. I got caught up in college life, dated, met Doug, the man of my dreams, or so I thought. Gayle and I maintain