Million Dollar Cowboy (Cupid, Texas #5)(19)

The door knocker-a lion's head with an open mouth-banged loudly against the wood as he yanked the door open. Yep, he'd built the house without a doorbell. He'd avoided doorbells since he was three, and he hadn't been about to install one in his house.

His house.

Although he felt no pride in it, no real sense of ownership since Duke had tainted it.

He bowed low and swept his arm out, indicating she should go in ahead of him. "After you."

But in the bow, his head spun. Oops. Bad idea. He wouldn't tell her he was dizzy. She'd make a fuss and insist on the hospital. He'd be all right. He'd had worse. Shaken off worse.

Kaia snorted, stiffened her spine, and marched past him into the kitchen, medical bag in hand. He cocked his head, watching her hips sway, wishing both eyes were in good shape so he could fully appreciate the view.

Nice. Very nice. He could spend hours watching that swing.

She stalked over to the fridge, jerked open the freezer door, dug around, and found a package of frozen corn. She got a cup towel from a drawer, wrapped the corn in it, and tossed the package at him.

He caught it one-handed, cocked his head, grinned.

She dropped her gaze, hooked the tip of her boot around the rung of a kitchen chair, and scooted it out from the table. "Sit."

"I'm not a dog."

"Matter of opinion. Sit." She pointed.

"I'm guessing you don't have a boyfriend," he teased, putting the bag of towel-wrapped corn to his temple and easing into the chair. The cold ice instantly soothed his swollen flesh.

She folded her arms over her chest. "What makes you say that? I could have a boyfriend."

"Doubtful."

"Why's that."

"Most guys don't like being ordered around."

"News flash, neither do most women. Normally, I'm not this bossy," she amended. "But vet school and working at the shelter have taught me that when you've got a stubborn case, sometimes you have to get firm."

God, he was enjoying her. "You think I'm stubborn?"

"Lockhart, a pack mule in the Grand Canyon threatened with a three-hundred-pound tourist wanting a ride to the top in August heat isn't as stubborn as you."

"Colorful."

She leaned her butt against the kitchen counter, sized him up. "Your stubborn pride has kept you away for ten years. If Archer hadn't decided to get married, I wager you could have stayed away another decade without a second thought."

"And you're mad about that?"

"Hell yes."

"Why?"

"You were missed, dammit. Desperately."

"By whom?" He lowered his voice and his eyes. She'd missed him?

"By the entire community."

"Bull," he said, but felt a strange tug in the center of his chest. "I was the hellion of Cupid. I'm sure mothers and fathers, teachers and preachers fell to their knees and gave thanks when I drove away."

"God." She shook her head. "That chip on your shoulder is huge. I hoped ten years away would knock it off."

"Watch it, Braterminator." His lip twitched. "You're treading on thin ice."

"See? Still too stubborn to even have a conversation about it." She turned away from him, got two white pills from her medical kit, filled a glass with water, and carried it over to him.



       
         
       
        

"What's this?"

"Aspirin."

She was standing close enough that he caught a whiff of her shampoo. It was the refreshing scent of chilled watermelon and summer daisies. His mouth watered. If he'd been of a mind, he could hook one leg around her waist and pull her into his lap.

He considered it. Was tempted.

Quickly, she hopped back. "Don't you dare, Ridge Josiah Lockhart."

She remembered his middle name. Why that should thrill him, he had no idea, but it did. "Dare what?"

"You know." She waved a hand.

"So you do have a boyfriend?"

"If I was in a relationship it would be with a man, not a boy. But no, I do not have a boyfriend. I'm far too busy with school and work. Not that it's any of your business."

Something in the way she said it, the way she tensed her body told him there was more to the story. Had some man hurt her? Just the idea of someone hurting her had him clenching his fists and his blood boiling.

"I heard that," he murmured. "Not enough hours in a day."

"Does this mean you don't have a woman friend?"

"I do not." By design, he'd not ever had a romantic relationship that lasted longer than four months. Four months tended to be the time when women wanted to know where the relationship was going and that's when he bailed.