Beauty's Kiss(10)

Kara shrugged. “Apparently he was worried about some of the messages. He thought they might be... urgent.”

“From Doug?” Taylor asked, immediately on her feet and reaching for her thick flannel robe from the foot of the bed.

“Sounds like it.”

Rattled, Taylor stuffed her arms into the sleeves and tied the belt around her waist. What had happened? Was Doug in trouble? Had he gotten into it with someone... gotten into a fight or thrown out of the bunkhouse?

She hated the cold queasy uneasiness filling her, hating that just hearing her brother’s name made her worry. Worry was a terrible feeling, and it seemed like she lived in a perpetual state of anxiety over her brother these days. She needed him to get better. Needed him to own his life, his health, his mind, his future. Four years ago when she’d made the commitment to help him she hadn’t known how hard this would all become... harder as time passed and mistakes kept getting made.

But she wouldn’t give up on Doug. There was no reason to give up yet. He was young and learning and he was going to get better. And he was already better. He’d held down his current job for six months. That was huge—huge.

“Where is Troy?” she asked, combing her fingers through her long hair, trying to smooth and untangle it in one quick motion.

“In the living room. It was the warmest room.” Kara gave Taylor a pointed look, her eyebrows arching. “Although maybe that didn’t matter, because he’s so hot.”

“Is he?” Taylor asked, feigning indifference, refusing to acknowledge that her racing pulse had anything to do with Troy Sheenan.

“Seriously hot,” Kara drawled.

Taylor rolled her eyes. “Is every woman in this town crazy about him?”

“Every woman with a pulse.” Kara winked, and headed back to her bedroom.Taylor found Troy standing in front of the living room fireplace studying the framed photos on the mantle. She hesitated in the doorway, watching him examine the photos of Kara and her brother growing up.

His dark hair was cropped clean at his nape, showing off his high hard cheekbones and strong jaw, his jaw shadowed with a day old beard. He was wearing a long black wool coat, something you’d probably see in San Francisco’s financial district and the tailored wool coat made his shoulders look big, broad, and tall. But then he was tall. And big, and broad. He’d made the huge Escalade feel small and it was probably a very roomy SUV.

“I’m sorry you had to drive all the way back at this time,” she said, needing to let him know she was there, and yet feeling slightly breathless at the same time.

She wasn’t accustomed to greeting men in the Jones’ living room. She’d had some double dates with Jane, but none of the men had ever picked her up here.

Nervously she jammed her hands deeper into the robe pockets, thinking she must look as pretty as a roll of toilet paper in her fuzzy gray robe dotted with fat pink pigs, the robe a Christmas gift a from Doug several years ago.

Troy turned from the mantle, his long black wool coat falling open over his black cashmere sweater, revealing the hard muscular planes of his broad chest. She’d tried not to stare at his chest in the car. She had to remind herself not to stare now.

“I didn’t want you to panic,” he said.

“That was nice of you, because I was, a little bit,” she admitted. “I haven’t backed up my contacts. Need to.” She was babbling. She hated that. But she felt so jumpy. Troy made her self-conscious. Or, perhaps it was the robe. Why didn’t she just put on clothes before coming out to see him? Why had she felt it necessary to greet him in a pig robe?

Of course he’d look urban, and sophisticated.

Dashing.

A prince coming to the villager’s house with the glass slipper.

Or in this case, a phone.

She really should have put on real clothes.

“I would have waited until morning,” Troy said, walking towards her, “but the messages seemed urgent.” He handed her the phone. “Hope everything’s okay.”

His fingertips brushed her palm as he placed the phone in her hand. Taylor blushed, feeling a sharp tingle where his fingers had touched her palm.

This was so absurd. She had to get a grip. Annoyed, she rubbed at the sensitive, tingling spot on her hand, even as she glanced at the screen of her phone.

Tons of missed calls. Tons of text messages. All from Doug.

“My brother,” she said, heart sinking all over again.

“The one in Paradise Valley?”

She nodded. “Do you mind if I send him a message and make sure things are alright?”

“I think that’s a good idea. I can always drive you to him if you need a ride.”