Everybody's Hero

Her gaze shot to his. “I’m not—”

He chuckled. She huffed.

“Damned if I know.”

The corners of his mouth curved up. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you are one strange woman.”

“So I’ve been told.”

The grin stretched out a little more. “You’re also very pretty.”

She barked out a laugh, which somewhat blotted out the uh-oh. What little makeup she’d put on this morning had long since melted off, her shirt was stained with everything imaginable (and a few things that weren’t), and her hair had that fresh-from-the-wind-tunnel look.

“Oh, man—we’d better get some food in you, quick. Hunger must be making you delusional.” She tromped over to the cupboard. “And even if it were true, that’s not going to stop me from being pissed.”

“I didn’t think it would. And I’m not delusional. Or a suck-up.”

She arched one brow at him, which tugged a sheepish grin from his mouth.

“Okay, the flowers and the candy were a suck-up.” Then his smile…changed, somehow. Seemed to be coming more from his eyes or something. “Stating a simple fact isn’t.”

Unlike Abby, her younger sister, Taylor had never been good at accepting compliments. And she wasn’t all that sure what to do with this one now. So she decided to set it aside, like a sweet, but totally impractical, present, and said instead, “Would you like crackers with your chili?”

She could feel his gaze, warm and intense on her back, making her shiver slightly. “Sounds good. And I didn’t really mean that about you being strange.”

“Yes, you did.” The can of chili duly retrieved, she yanked open the utensil drawer and found the can opener, then handed both to Joe. “I’m a firm believer in audience participation,” she said when his brows lifted. Shaking his head, he set about removing the lid; at the sound of the can opener, Oakley planted himself next to Joe, his entire face undulating as it swiveled from Joe to can to Joe.

“I don’t suppose chili’s part of the dog’s diet,” Joe said.

“Not unless you want to wear a gas mask for the rest of the night.”

“Got it. You know,” he said, frowning at the dog as he cranked the opener, “his face kinda reminds me of an unmade bed.”

“Hey. Don’t talk smack about my dog.”

“Oh, I don’t know. Unmade beds are kinda nice, if you think about it.” His mouth twitching, he handed the open can to her. “Cozy. Inviting.”

Taylor rolled her eyes—mostly to keep from staring at him bug-eyed—and he laughed. After she dumped the chili into a bowl and put it in the microwave, Joe asked, “How’d you come to have a bloodhound anyway?”

“A question I’ve asked myself many times,” she said with a sigh. “Only thing I can figure is that since I couldn’t have a pet when I was a kid—not even a hamster—when I finally got this place, I sorta went overboard.” Oakley angled his head backward to give her a reproving look. “Not that I don’t adore the big lug,” she added, “but a bloodhound isn’t exactly the most practical choice in the world. Oh, Lord…” She grabbed an old towel off a cabinet knob and beckoned to the dog. “Come here, Niagara mouth.”

“And let me guess,” Joe said as she sopped up a small lake’s worth of drool from the dog’s jowls. “You’re by nature a very practical person.”

“Let’s see,” she said, dumping the towel in the sink and washing her hands. “I teach kindergarten in a flyspeck of a town, I bought an eighty-year-old house that I swear was made by the first little pig, and last month I picked up a sequined evening dress at a garage sale just because it was pretty.”

“What’s wrong with that?”

“Hello? Where would I wear a sequined dress around here? To one of Didi’s potlucks?”

Joe angled his head. “Don’t tell me you never leave Haven. Not even for a night out now and again?”

She flushed. “Well…no. I mean, sure, I suppose I could. It’s just been a while since I have. God. That really sounds pathetic, doesn’t it?”

They stared at each other so long and so hard a blind person—in China—could have seen the sexual sparks leaping between them.

Joe sighed. Then chuckled, a low, warm, rough sound that did a real number on her nerve endings.

“Um…we’ve got a problem, don’t we?” she said.

“Only if we act on it.”

“Are we thinking about acting on it?”

“Don’t know about you, but I am. A helluva lot more than I’ve got any right to.” He leaned back in the chair, one wrist propped on the table. “I don’t suppose…”

“No,” she said, waving her hands in front of her. “I was just…curious. If I was imagining things.”

“You’re not. But I’m not looking for…entanglements.”

That was relief she felt, right? Sitting like a lump in the pit of her stomach? “No, of course you aren’t. Because you’re only here for the summer.”

“Right. And I’m not much for starting things I can’t finish.”

“Not to mention that you’ve got enough on your plate already. With Seth.”

A fraction of a second shuddered between them before he said, “Exactly.”

“Well,” she said. “That’s good then. That we got this out in the open.” Oh, yeah, let’s hear it for responsible adulthood.

“Just what I was thinking.” His gaze nestled up to hers and settled right in. “So nobody has to wonder. About what might happen.”

“Right.”

“Sure can’t help wondering what it would feel like to kiss you, though.”

A short laugh burst from her throat even as her eyes—the traitors—zinged right to his mouth. “Did you really mean to say that out loud?” she said, looking at his mouth.

“Just figured you for the type of woman who likes to know where things stand.”

Heaven knew how long she stood there, staring at his mouth and thinking wayward thoughts, before she finally said, “This is true.” Then she added, because it seemed like another one of those good ideas, “But it wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“No. It wouldn’t.” His brow creased. “Why wouldn’t it?”

“Because if the kiss was good, I’m not sure I’d want to stop.”

His eyebrows practically shot straight up off his face.

“Did I shock you?” Taylor said.