Beneath the Texas Moon. Elle James

do when he runs out of houses to fix up around here?”

      “Don’t know. I guess he’ll figure it out,” Mac said. “Can I get some shotgun shells?”

      Addie turned to a shelf behind the counter, calling over her shoulder, “What size?”

      “30.06” he said.

      “Ain’t huntin’ season.” Addie placed the box of shells on the counter. “Got varmints? Huckabee and Leider said they’ve been losing some of their young livestock lately. Think there might be a coyote or something pickin’ ’em off. Funny thing is they ain’t finding the carcasses.”

      “Yeah. I heard.”

      Eve’s brows furrowed. “Should I be worried about…” She nodded toward Joey.

      “Since we don’t know what’s doing it, I’d say it doesn’t hurt to keep an eye on him.” Mac stared down at the little boy who stared back at him, his look guarded.

      “I will.” Eve scooped Joey’s hand into hers. “Well, I have a lot to do before bed tonight. I better get to it. Addie, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Eve waved and tugged Joey toward the door.

      As the woman and the little boy walked away, Mac noted the view and couldn’t help his instinctive tightening in reaction to a beautiful woman.

      Before the door closed behind them, Addie cleared her throat. “Do you want these shells or not?”

      “Huh?” Mac shook his head and dragged his gaze back to Addie. “Oh, yeah.”

      “She’s a pretty little thing, isn’t she?” Addie said, ringing up the purchase. “She and that little boy have been through some hard times.”

      When he handed her a twenty, he couldn’t help asking, “What happened?”

      Addie shook her head and sighed. “Little Joey and Eve’s ex-husband were mauled by a dog. That little boy watched the dog kill his dad.”

      Mac turned back toward the door as if he could still see the little boy. He knew the pain of watching the people you cared about die. Worse, the guilt of being the only one who survived.

      Mac shook his head and tried to imagine what Joey had gone through watching his father be killed by a dog.

      Dog.

      Mac dropped the shells on the counter and raced for the door.

      “What’s wrong, Mac?” Addie asked.

      Just as he grabbed the handle of the door, an earsplitting scream rent the air.

      Too late.

      Without slowing his pace, Mac flew through the door and toward the cries. After rounding the side of his pickup, he ground to a halt. His forty-pound Australian shepherd, Molly, lay on the ground with her chin touching the pavement, a worried expression on her wolfish face.

      Standing between the dog and her SUV, Eve clutched Joey to her chest. The boy’s body shook with the force of his screams.

      Mac rounded the vehicles, scooped Molly into his arms, jerked open the door of his truck and deposited her onto the floorboard. He pointed a finger at her and ordered, “Stay!”

      After shutting the door, he turned back to Eve and Joey, his heart hammering in his chest.

      “It’s okay, sweetie. The dog’s gone. Mamma’s got you. It’s okay,” Eve crooned, her voice wobbling. With her arms hugging Joey close, she backed away from the truck and hurried into the store, whispering words of assurance as she went.

      Mac took a deep, steadying breath and ran a hand through his hair, then followed Eve. At the rear counter, he found Joey surrounded by the two women as if they shielded him from further attack.

      Although Joey had stopped screaming, his eyes were red and puffy, and his body shook with silent hiccups and an occasional sob.

      With a compelling need to make things right again, Mac removed his hat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

      Eve looked over the top of Joey’s head and smiled bleakly. “It’s not your fault. There’s nothing you could have done. He’d have seen a dog sooner or later. I had hoped it would be after we settled in.”

      “I’ll keep Molly away from Joey in the future,” he said.

      “No, don’t do that,” Eve said. With her hand rubbing in steady strokes down her son’s back, she stared into Mac’s eyes. “He needs to get used to dogs. He can’t avoid them forever.” She rested her cheek against Joey’s hair, a tear easing out of the corner of her eye.

      The single tear slipping down to Eve’s chin caused a meltdown in Mac’s insides. For so long, he’d been plagued by self-recriminations, regret and sorrow.

      Enough.

      He straightened his shoulders, nodded and turned to leave. Maybe he could help Joey. And perhaps by helping the boy overcome his demons, Mac could shake a few of his own.

      THE HOUSE WAS LARGE, the lighting dim, and it needed a heck of a lot of work, but it was hers. Eve pulled the sheet up to Joey’s chin in the queen-size bed she’d share with him until his room was painted and ready. The air conditioner was on the fritz, and the night temperature was only a few degrees lower than the sweltering heat of the daytime.

      Eve slid the window a little higher hoping to catch the breeze she’d enjoyed earlier that day. But the overcast night air was still in the Texas hill country, shrouding the terrain in deep shadows. Shadows that could hide a coyote bent on preying on small animals.

      Eve stared out the window. Her room faced out onto open scrubland and a nearby ridge, but the darkness was so dense, she couldn’t make out anything past the light cast by the lamp in her bedroom.

      When she pushed aside the sheet to lie down next to Joey, an eerie cry drifted in through the open window. Was it a coyote, a wolf or just a lonely dog?

      Thank God, Joey didn’t wake from his sleep. Even a dog’s bark sent him into hysterics. Eve could imagine his reaction to howling in the night.

      Inside her house, tucked safely behind sturdy walls, Eve couldn’t stop the tremor that ran from the base of her skull down the length of her spine. The conversation she’d overheard between Addie and Mac McGuire about the missing animals resurfaced, settling like a knot in her belly. With a full day of work ahead, she lay still, willing her eyes to close and dreamless sleep to come.

      Chapter Two

      The rumble of an engine and the crunching sound of tires on gravel sent Eve to the front door. She shielded her eyes against the morning sun, staring up the driveway at the approaching charcoal gray pickup truck. Her heart sped up when she recognized it as the one Mac had driven the day before.

      She touched her fingers to her hair then brushed away imaginary flecks of dust from her faded jeans and baggy T-shirt. Why was she getting all fidgety over the men scheduled to work on her house? Yet she couldn’t stop the errant flutter of her heart as she stepped through the doorway to stand on the front porch.

      Joey remained behind the screen door, peering out from the safety of the house.

      “Aren’t you coming out?” she asked. “It’s Mac. The man from the store yesterday.”

      He shook his head, a frown denting his brow.

      Eve sighed, but she didn’t push him. The doctors had told her he’d come out of that shell on his own, given time and patience.

      The truck stopped in front of the house, and Mac and another man climbed down. The two men were as different as storm clouds and sunshine—one dark and brooding, the other quite a few years older, but sunny and grinning.

      With a deep, calming breath, Eve stepped from the porch and approached the men.

      “Ms. Baxter…my foreman Daniel Goodman.”