Everybody's Hero

Just then, the largest dog he’d ever encountered nosed open the screen door, got Joe in his sights, and bounded down the steps, barking his head off. Before Joe could brace himself, ham-sized paws collided with Joe’s shoulders, sending him sprawling in the dirt with a loud “Oof!” And if having the wind knocked out of him wasn’t enough of an indignity, a gallon or so of dog spit now washed over his face. Then he heard Taylor yell, “Oakley! Drop it!” and he could breathe again. Move, no, but definitely breathe.

“Ohmigod, I’m so sorry…” Taylor grabbed his hand and, grunting, hauled him to a sitting position. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m fine,” Joe said, cautiously testing assorted limbs to make sure he was. On her knees in the dirt beside him, Taylor was close enough for him to catch a whiff of her scent. Yes, even over the mimosa and the over achieving honeysuckle. He’d almost forgotten how good women smelled. And to make matters worse, her hair had come loose, swirling around her face and shoulders in a mass of glittery, untidy waves that looked hot to the touch.

“Gross,” Seth said, over what sure sounded like choked laughter. “You’ve got dog slime all over you!”

Joe’s gaze shot to his brother. Hearing him laugh was almost worth the sore butt and dog spit. Then his eyes swerved to Taylor’s, who sure as hell looked like she wanted to laugh, too, and for a split second, he felt the dumbest spurt of connection or something. Almost angrily, he yanked his shirttail out of his waistband and started mopping his face, only to then remember what Taylor’d said to get the dog off him. He dropped his now soggy shirttail and looked at her again. “‘Drop it’?”

“It’s one of the few commands he’ll obey,” she said, her forehead crinkled for a moment before she pulled a tissue out of her pocket, grabbed Joe’s chin and daubed at his still-wet face like he was one of her kindergartners, for Pete’s sake. The sensation of soft fingers against his skin sent awareness jolting through him, settling nicely in his groin. Terrific.

“He loves to play fetch,” Taylor went on, totally unaware of her torture. “But he has a problem with the part where he has to let…go…”

She went stock-still, her gaze fixed on his mouth. Then her hands yanked away and a little hiss of air escaped her lips, her cheeks turning practically the same color as the bright pink petunias spilling out of the whiskey barrel planter a few feet away.

Now it was Joe’s turn to barricade the laughter threatening to erupt from his gut, even as he had to tamp down the urge to plow his fingers through all that bright, glittery hair and plant a hard, fast kiss on that funny mouth of hers just because, well, he felt like it.

“Sorry,” she mumbled as Seth, bless him, got everybody back on track.

“You said six-thirty, Joe,” he said, indignant as hell. “It’s after seven.”

“I know, I know,” Joe said, collecting the slightly battered flowers and candy—which the dog had slobbered all over—and getting to his feet. “Traffic out of Tulsa was a bi…bear. Then the skies ripped open right outside Claremore and I had to pull off the road until it let up some.” He shifted everything to one hand and hugged the kid to him, his physical instincts fully operational even if the jury was still out on his emotions. “I’m really sorry. But I got you something, it’s in the car. And these—” Joe wiped the candy box on his jeans as the kid took off, and then shoved both candy and flowers at Taylor “—are for you.”

She stared at them like she wasn’t sure what to think.

Well, hell, Joe never had been much good at the keeping-women-happy stuff. He didn’t suppose it helped matters any that by now the flowers looked like something he’d filched from a neglected grave and the candy box was still slightly damp.

He blew out a breath. “It’s lame, I know, but I thought, hell, I should do something. But I didn’t have any idea what you might like. Since I don’t really know you, I mean. And the Homeland was the only thing open by the time I got here. But I figured I was probably safe with candy and flowers. I mean, don’t all women have a thing for chocolate?”

Why wouldn’t she say anything? She just stood there, staring at the flowers with a peculiar expression on her face. After what seemed like forever, she finally brought the daisies and carnations up to her nose and inhaled deeply. Daisy petals fluttered off in all directions; one carnation head plummeted to the dirt. She bent to pick it up, then lifted her eyes to his. “They’re lovely, thank you. But unfortunately chocolate gives me a headache.”

Behind him, the Blazer door slammed shut; small feet pummeled the earth as Seth returned, holding aloft his prize, a toy police car Joe’d gotten when he’d picked up the flowers and—he now realized, pointless—candy.

“This is so cool! Thanks, Joe!”

Joe’s heart turned over in his chest. It was a stupid two-buck toy, for crying out loud. But like the dumb TV commercial, the look on his brother’s face was priceless. Seth looked like a normal little boy. A happy little boy. Joe knew better than to think the worst was behind them, that this was anything more than the sun’s piercing the clouds for a moment. But it was a start.

And he’d made it happen. Okay, the toy had made it happen, but Joe had made the toy happen, right?

“You’re welcome, bro,” he said, and the boy beamed even more brightly, and Joe noticed Taylor watching him like maybe she expected him to sprout wings or something.

“I guess we’ll be getting out of your hair now,” he said, just as she said, “Have you had dinner?”

“No, ma’am,” he said after a long moment. “But I don’t want to put you out.”

She smiled. That full-out, first-place smile. “Don’t worry,” she said. “You won’t.”

Chapter 4

Flowers, for God’s sake.

The goofball had brought her flowers.

And candy she couldn’t eat.

Taylor eyed the Russell Stover box, sitting there so innocently on the kitchen counter.

Shouldn’t eat, anyway.

With a sigh, she climbed up on a kitchen chair to get down a cut-glass vase she’d gotten as a wedding present and couldn’t remember ever using before this. Partly because nobody—including her ex—had given her flowers since her marriage, and partly because, even though she was perfectly capable of giving herself flowers, glass anythings and bloodhounds were not a good mix. But then, she mused as she located the vase in amongst the million and one other wedding presents she had no use for but couldn’t bring herself to pitch, one could always stick flowers in a milk jug if one really wanted flowers in the house.

She thought there might be something profound in there, somewhere, but she was too tired to figure it out. Just as she was too tired to figure out what the heck had been going on outside when she’d for some reason thought wiping the dog spit off the man’s face would be a good idea and he’d gotten this look in his eyes that had clearly told her it had been anything but.

“Need any help?” she heard behind her, and the vase nearly fell out of her hands. Joe reached up and relieved her of it, setting it carefully on the counter and sending yet another life-is-so-unfair rush through Taylor.

Things were much easier when she was mad at him. Only then he had to go and do stuff like bring her battered flowers and chocolates and get that confused, helpless, I’m-really-trying-here expression on his face when he looked at Seth. Dammit, not only could she not stay mad, she invites the man to dinner.

But then, she wasn’t having visions of abandoned, uneaten chocolates in the trash, either.

However, she noticed Joe glowering at her as she got off the chair, and a small, hopeful flame of annoyance tried to rekindle itself.

“Standing on chairs isn’t safe,” he said.

The flame grew a tiny bit brighter, even though his voice was all growly soft and he was standing there with his arms crossed over his chest. By seven o’clock, his five o’clock shadow had reached the should-be-outlawed stage. So she puffed on the flame a little to make sure it didn’t go out.

“Yeah, well, I’ve been standing on chairs since I was two, haven’t broken my neck yet, so I’ll continue to live dangerously, thank you. Where’s Seth?”

“Out front, playing with the car.”

She actually considered keeping her big mouth shut, she really did. But since that was like trying to keep rain from hitting the ground, she said, “You know, distracting him with gifts will only work for so long.”

Joe’s eyes darkened, but he leaned one hand against the counter and slipped his other into his jeans pocket, as if nothing or nobody was going to ruffle his feathers, by golly. “And it might not hurt for you to cut me some slack here, Miss McIntyre. I’m doing the best I can.”

His reproof was gentle, but dead-on. Her cheeks burning, Taylor turned her back on Joe to run water into the vase, after which she grabbed the flowers from beside the sink and plopped them into the vessel. Oakley trotted into the kitchen, his nails clattering against the tiles. From outside, she heard Seth making assorted, if subdued, high-speed chase noises with the little car. She glanced up to make sure he was okay, just in time to see a robin the size of Texas scamper across the yard, tweetering his little robin heart out.

And Joe’s pheromones flooded her kitchen, flooded her, settling into every nook and cranny of her person and making her puff so hard on that damn flame she was about to hyperventilate.

“So,” she said. “Dinner. Frozen or canned?”

After a slight pause, she heard, “You don’t cook?”

“I cook. When the mood strikes. It didn’t tonight.” Or most nights, actually. Which was a shame, in a way, because she wasn’t a half-bad cook. But it was like the giving herself flowers thing—basically, she couldn’t be bothered. “Anyway,” she went on, twisting to set the flowers in the center of the table, where they actually looked very pretty, if still a bit shell-shocked, “I’ve got canned chili, some of that Chunky soup stuff, and a freezer full of frozen dinners.”

“I think I’ll take my chances with the chili.”

“Good choice.”

That got a half laugh. Then he plunked himself down at her table, looking as though he belonged there. How bizarre. “So how come you invited me to dinner if you’re still pissed at me?”