Lone Star Blues. Delores Fossen

should have figured out a different way to ask if she’d gone bat-crap crazy because of being held captive when she was on deployment.

      Jordan’s eyes narrowed a little. Her mouth tightened, too, a reminder that yes, that mouth still had a way of getting his attention. That’s why Dylan looked away again.

      “I’m fine.” Her tone was snappish, but it was like a person gushing blood saying that it was just a flesh wound. No way could she be fine after something like that, especially since it’d only happened weeks ago. Some folks didn’t get over trauma like that—ever.

      “I can get out of the Air Force if I want,” she added a moment later, and her voice was a lot more even-keeled now. “While I’m on leave, I’m considering my options.”

      Well, Dylan wanted her to consider those options elsewhere. But he immediately frowned at that thought. Feeling that way wasn’t right. Jordan was Corbin’s family, too, and the kid would need all the support that he could get.

      “If you’re at Lackland Air Force Base, does that mean you won’t be deployed or have to go do temporary duty somewhere?” he pressed.

      Jordan shook her head. Hesitantly shook it, though. “There’s still a chance something like that would happen.” Her tone was hesitant, too.

      That was his winning argument, all wrapped in her own words. Well, it was a winner if she stayed on active duty and took that assignment.

      “So, you’re saying you’ll get out of the military, move back here and sue Dylan for custody,” Lucian clarified. His brother didn’t say it as mean-spirited and grouchy as he could have. He did it more the way he would while negotiating a business deal that he wasn’t especially sold on. However, Dylan knew how Lucian wanted this particular deal to go down.

      With Jordan getting custody.

      And preferably, having the DNA results to prove that Corbin wasn’t even a Granger. That would tie everything up in a neat little package for Lucian.

      Dylan didn’t want either of those things, and the only reason Lucian did was he thought this would interfere with business as usual. And all because he thought Dylan was too much of a screwup to handle raising a kid. Of course, Jordan felt the same way. He could see that in her eyes.

      “Don’t look at me like that,” Dylan grumbled at the exact moment that Jordan said, “Don’t look at me like that.”

      Obviously, they quit giving each other the looks that’d caused their comments, but that’s because they were both surprised now. And frowning. Even after all these years, they were on the same wavelength.

      “I’m not broken,” Jordan snapped. “I was doing my job when I was taken—a job I was trained well to do—and then I was rescued. End of story.”

      Since she’d gotten a little louder and a little crisper with each word of that explanation, Dylan doubted it was anywhere near the end. Nope. His sex bingo past didn’t hold a candle to possible PTSD, though Dylan wasn’t especially pleased that he’d won this particular contest.

      Dylan was about to tell her how terrible he felt about this god-awful thing that’d happened to her, once he figured out how to say it, that is, but her phone buzzed before he had a chance to work that out.

      Jordan yanked the cell from her jeans pocket, and when she saw the name on the screen, she glanced up at the ceiling as if asking for some divine intervention. Obviously, this wasn’t a call she especially wanted to take. Probably because she was more interested in continuing her debate with Dylan, but she hit the answer button anyway.

      “Theo,” she greeted the caller.

      Theo. She hadn’t exactly said that with love and affection, but judging from the way the name just rolled off her tongue, it was a name she said often.

      “I’m sorry, but I can’t talk now,” she added, dodging Dylan’s gaze.

      Yeah, definitely a rolling off the tongue kind of name. Which meant this guy was probably her boyfriend. Or maybe even her fiancé. She wasn’t wearing an engagement ring, though. But then, the only jewelry she had on was a thin gold chain around her neck.

      “No, we’re working that out now. I’ll call you later,” Jordan told him. She hit the end call button, put her phone away and faced Dylan again. She looked a lot more steeled up than she had earlier so Theo must have worked some good mojo with whatever he’d said to her.

      However, the “working out” didn’t get to happen because the doorbell rang. Dylan really didn’t want to deal with anything else today, but apparently someone answered it because it wasn’t long before Dylan heard the footsteps. And the voice that went with them.

      “I need to see Dylan right now.”

      Great. More complications.

      Maybe he should look to the ceiling for some divine assistance, too. Because that voice belonged to none other than Judge Walter Ray Turley.

      Several moments later, the hulking man appeared in the doorway of the sunroom. It would have been impossible to miss him since the judge was built like a sumo wrestler, and his facial expressions were just as intimidating. Thankfully, he wore more clothes, though. Walter Ray didn’t seem to make good use of his champagne budget. He was wearing jeans and a yellow plaid jacket that clashed with his dark red cowboy hat.

      There was also that nose.

      Walter Ray probably didn’t know that most folks called him dick-nose, and it was a well-earned moniker. It was one of those noses that made you stare and wonder why the heck he hadn’t run to a plastic surgeon.

      Dylan’s first reaction was to tell the judge to get lost. Lucian must have known that, too, because he shook his head. Definitely a silent warning. Without saying a word, Lucian lectured him about the fact that Walter Ray was a powerful man in these parts. A powerful man with multiple daughters, two of whom Dylan had seen naked. And one of the daughters had won the sex bingo game. For the sake of business, Dylan decided to hold his tongue.

      For as long as he could.

      But his fun meter was at zero right now, and the judge had better not do anything to send that meter into the minus setting.

      Karlee was right behind the judge, and she was communicating without words, as well. Dylan recognized the silent apology she was giving him. “Corbin and I were waiting for the pizza I ordered,” Karlee said.

      In other words, she’d opened the door without realizing it was the judge. That was okay. If Karlee hadn’t answered the door, it was very possible that one of the housekeepers would have. Plus, as riled looking as the judge was, he probably wouldn’t have just left without seeing Dylan.

      Karlee had Corbin by the hand, and the boy was munching on an apple slice. Despite the frustration over this visit and Jordan’s demand, Dylan found himself smiling at Corbin.

      And Walter Ray noticed, too.

      “So, this is your son,” Walter Ray grumbled as he slid glances between Dylan and the boy. Jordan got in on that glance sliding, too.

      Karlee must have decided that all the glancing might lead to some things being said that she didn’t want Corbin to overhear so she led the boy out of the sunroom and back toward the kitchen.

      “Yes, he’s mine,” Dylan verified.

      Dylan didn’t have to guess how the judge had found out about Corbin. Misty had likely told him. He hoped Misty hadn’t told him about stripping naked and sneaking into Dylan’s room. If so, this conversation might go in an R-rated direction.

      Walter Ray stared at him a long time as if waiting for Dylan to launch into some kind of lengthy explanation. Maybe about Corbin. Maybe about what’d gone on at the party the night before. Maybe about Misty and her missing panties. Since Dylan knew a couple of those discussions could get him in hot water, he just stared back at the man and stalled to see where this would go.

      The