Designed for Love (Texas Nights) Read Free Page B

swinging like a pendulum. His growl at Mac was low, but halfhearted.
    “Drop it,” Mac told him.
    God, wasn’t this how this had all started?
    “I said.” Mac’s voice was surprisingly even, but still it made Ashton’s midsection tighten. “Drop. It.”
    Apparently, she wasn’t the only one who felt a little loose in the tummy because a rivulet of liquid sluiced down Mac’s forearm, dripped off his elbow.
    “Shit,” Ashton whispered. Napoleon’s head whipped around and he whined, reminding her of a time she’d used that word as an expletive and he’d taken it as a command and proceeded to produce. “No, sweetie, that’s not what I meant. It’s fine. You’re fine.”
    More whining from Napoleon and a disgusted snort from Mac.
    Ashton approached them, one careful step at a time. Small tail wag. Good, good sign. When she got close enough, she held out her hands, and Mac passed her Napoleon. And oh, he was wet and stunk of pork and garlic. His fur sported little coffee bean snarls and maxi-pad feathers.
    “Napoleon...” she started, but as much as she wanted to chastise him, it might lead to more bad behavior. As if she could afford any more of that. As if she could afford the damage he’d already done.
    From behind her came a throat clearing. “Ms. Davenport, you can pay up front.”
    The manager’s unspoken message was
and then get the hell out of my store.
    * * *
    Holy shit.
Hurricane Ashton hits again.
Mac watched her cuddle her dog as though he’d just won a blue ribbon prize at some fancy-ass dog show. Meanwhile, Mac had dog piss dripping down his arm. He swiped a feminine hygiene product off the floor to dry his skin.
    Huh. Who knew? Those commercials touting extra absorbency weren’t full of shit. He glanced around for a trashcan. Nothing.
    He just sighed and stuffed the pad into his back pocket. Not as if this little scenario could get much worse anyway. And to think he’d simply stopped to buy chili for dinner. He should get one of the weather predictor things. Maybe it would tell him when the hurricane and her dog were within striking distance.
    And wasn’t it completely screwed up that he’d wanted Ashton Davenport since the first day he’d spotted her? With her yes-you-can-mess-me-up-good blond hair, curvy-enough-to-grip hips, and just-right rack, every time he ran into her around town, his first impulse was to shove her up against the nearest vertical surface and see if he could shut that sassy mouth up with his.
    Even now, with the wreck her dog had made around them, he had to beat back the need to two-step her toward a rack of processed cheese and check her tonsils.
    But he didn’t need that kind of trouble. For some reason, this former Houston debutante had made Shelbyville her new home, but he was here for one purpose only. Bank enough change to get his ass back to Dallas. Which he couldn’t do until he paid off the subcontractors he’d left hanging when his construction company tanked.
    Sure, he’d dated a few high-maintenance types in the past. Ashton Davenport? Her maintenance needs were so stratospheric he couldn’t see them clearly even if he squinted.
    Didn’t keep him from watching her ass anytime she was walking away from him. Didn’t keep him from wondering how those long legs would feel wrapped around him. Didn’t keep him from wanting what he should never want in the first place.
    Hell, the woman couldn’t control her dog. He’d heard her interior design business was all but a ghost town. And if there was anything he needed like he needed another hole in the head, it was a woman with a life as screwed up as his. Yeah, she might have money to throw at her troubles, but that didn’t seem to be solving her problems right now.
    Since the Piggly Wiggly was the only major grocery store in Shelbyville, in the future she’d either be paying convenience store prices or driving to the next town for groceries.
    “I’m...” Ashton paused, closed those gorgeous blue