Million Dollar Cowboy (Cupid, Texas #5)(68)

No way. Her favorite food and her favorite flowers? Where had he gotten fried chicken in Cupid this early in the day? And who'd sold him flowers that loved water in a desert town on a Sunday morning? 

But he had a plane and plenty of money. He could get most anything he wanted with a snap of his fingers. She found that both sexy and oddly worrisome.

"Hey," he said, leaning one shoulder against the doorjamb, still looking like a total rascal with that blackened eye.

"Hey."

She gulped. "How did you get here?"

"Borrowed Archer's SUV. They took Casey's car to the airport in El Paso. He left me the keys."

"I see." Kaia didn't miss the appreciative look in his eye as his gaze roamed over her.

She wasn't the only one who'd just taken a shower. His hair was slightly damp, and she caught the scent of soap and the spicy tang of his bay rum cologne.

Her nose twitched. He smelled better than the fried chicken, and it took every last bit of fortitude she possessed not to move closer to him.

"Thank you for the flowers," she said a bit formally. "Forget-me-nots are my favorite."

"I remember," he murmured. "They reminded me of you. Bright. Fun. True blue."

She took a moment to bask in the warmth of his words. He'd remembered. If he was buttering her up in hopes of getting her into bed again, it was working. Big-time.

"Let me just put these in water." She took the flowers from him, tried not to react when their hands brushed and goose bumps spread up her arm.

He followed her into the kitchen. "You look good."

Something about the way he said it, so nonchalant and friendly, caused her to turn her head and peer at him over her shoulder.

"What is it?" he asked. His tone was innocent, but the expression in his eyes was deliciously wicked. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Right then you sounded like your old self. No hint of that Canadian accent you've picked up."

"Eh?" he said in a nasally tease, purposely trying to sound Canadian.

"You can take the boy out of Texas"-she grinned-"but you can't take Texas out of the boy."

"I suppose not," he said, and grinned wide enough to show off the dimple dug into his right cheek. That dimple loosened her knees and sent a rush of heat flooding straight into her pelvis. "But you do look gorgeous."

What was going on? He kept saying the most incredible things to her. As if he wanted a relationship. As if they had a future.

"Sweet talker," she scoffed.

He lowered his head, lowered his eyelids, and sent her a scintillating look. "I'm dead serious."

"I don't believe you for a second." She said it in a teasing voice, but her pulse was bouncing crazily through her veins. She put the flowers into a water-filled vase and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.

"Ready," she said, her voice coming out a little frayed.

"I like your hair like that," he said. "Loose and wild. Suits your inner goddess."

There he was with the sweet-talking again. She ducked her head to cover her pleasure, mumbled "thanks," and flipped her hair over her shoulder, showing off.

"I'm just itching to get my fingers tangled up in it again." And with that rabble-rousing comment, he took her arm and guided her toward the door.

On the way out, she snagged her straw cowgirl hat from the coatrack, settled it on her head for protection from the sun and Ridge's hot-edged gaze.



They arrived in Balmorhea around noon, a perfect time for a picnic. They ate fried chicken underneath a canvas awning and drank sweet tea from thermoses, eating in companionable silence. When they finished, they kicked back on the blanket they'd found in Archer's SUV, waiting for their food to settle before going swimming in the clear, deep, artesian springs.



       
         
       
        

There were pictures in the family album of her first time at the springs. She was young, no older than two, wearing a pink bathing suit with big orange flowers and adorable little kid sunglasses. She splashed in the springs, a huge smile on her face like she'd found a stash of the most delicious candy on earth.

And later, other pictures, pictures that included her siblings' friends. Ridge was there.

In one photograph, her favorite, they were playing chicken fight in the water and she was on Ridge's shoulders as they battled against Archer and Tara. She was six at the time to Ridge's twelve, and she'd followed him around like he was a superhero. He'd been pretty good-natured about it, tolerating her childish adoration as part and parcel of hanging out with Archer.