A Cowboy Firefighter For Christmas (Smokin' Hot Cowboys 1) Read Free Page B

Ozarka on ice in a cooler.”
    “Be still my heart.” He joined her tinkling laughter as he placed a hand over his heart. And realized he wasn’t wearing a shirt. Where the hell was it? He glanced around as he thought back. Oh yeah, he’d thrown it down on the road. He wasn’t just shirtless. He was dirty and sweaty, too, meaning he was about as far off a gal’s radar as he could get. Guess bad luck had to balance out good luck. But it hardly seemed fair.
    No walking this one back. He might as well play the hand he’d been dealt. All he could do was try a distraction. “We’ve done all we can here. You ready for that drink?”
    “Absolutely!” She smiled in delight.
    He turned away from the depths of her pale green eyes, too much like the lure of a cool, clear pool on a hot summer day. Talk about distraction.
    He stomped over to the fence. He held the barbwire down with his boot so she could cross with less trouble. The last thing he wanted was for her to get an injury. He watched as she stepped over the fence with long legs. Leggy trouble. He followed the sway of her narrow hips as she walked away. Bigger trouble. The situation was shaping up to leave him tossing and turning at night on his too-empty king-size bed. But there was always a price to pay for the good things in life.
    He held the three towels with one hand while he stepped over the barbwire. He kicked the fence post back in line with his boot so the wire didn’t sag as much. Not perfect, but good enough to hold till he had a chance to fix it right. He had other fence to repair today, too, but nothing critical. It’d all still be there tomorrow. For now, he wanted to know a little more about the stranger with the perfect timing. And he never minded time spent in the company of an interesting woman.
    While Misty walked back to her SUV, he checked the highway for his shirt. Sure enough, it was still where he’d dropped it. He grabbed the mess of torn, burned, smelly fabric. Shame, too. He’d had the shirt long enough that it was broken in just right. That meant soft with no holes, faded color, or style that made gals cringe. Not easy to meet the challenge, but the shirt had done it. Maybe he ought to bury it back home and put up an “RIP Good Shirt” sign.
    “What are you going to do about your shirt?” Misty walked over with a black garbage bag in her hand.
    “It’s a favorite.”
    “I understand. But—” She snapped open the bag.
    He took her meaning. “Guess I’d better say good-bye.” With a dramatic sigh, he dropped the shirt and towels into the trash bag. Misty rolled her eyes, but Trey noticed she was also fighting an amused smile. The smile tickled him in a way he couldn’t put his finger on, and that made him a little uneasy.
    As he walked with her back to the SUV, he scanned the area. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. No smoke on the horizon. No loose cattle out of pastures. No sounds indicating trouble. A hawk’s dark shadow passed over the highway. Trey glanced up. The raptor lazily circled in the big blue sky overhead, trolling for supper while rodents no doubt scurried for cover on the wide expanse of the golden prairie below.
    He relaxed a bit, feeling hunger, thirst, and tiredness creep up on him. No surprise after all the activity. For now, all was as it should be in his world, so life was good.
    Back at the SUV, Misty opened a door, leaned in, and tossed the garbage onto a floorboard.
    He watched, not even attempting to be a gentleman. She wasn’t nearly as pristine as he’d thought, because she was running him a close second in the sweaty, dirty department. He wondered if, underneath her pretty blue capris, she wore nothing but a bit of lace and silk. Snow white, if he didn’t miss his guess, although he’d like to find out for sure. White suited his Christmas angel.
    He heard the sound of ice clinking in the cooler before she stood up and turned around. She held three bottles with water dripping down