The Way to Texas by Liz Talley Read Free Book Online Page B

him.
    Her passion was mirrored in his eyes.
    He lowered his head and pulled her tighter against him.
    She allowed a small sigh to escape her lips. A sigh of acceptance. A sigh of need.
    His lips hovered above hers, teasingly.
    Then something wet hit her ankles.
    Dawn squealed as the wetness wriggled. She stepped back and heard a yelp.
    â€œYou stepped on him!” Hunter Todd shouted. “You hurted his paw.”
    Dawn looked down to see Herman limping around, holding up his front paw. He did indeed look like adrowned rat. And the worried six-year-old didn’t look much better. He, too, was dripping on the tiled floor.
    Tyson sighed. “Hunter Todd, I think you have about the best timing of any kid I’ve ever known.”

CHAPTER FIVE
    D AWN DIPPED HER SPOON into the bowl of Golden Nut Ohs. The planner she’d found under some of Jack’s papers sat in front of her, open to the list she’d scribbled in the back. Her secret list that made it into every planner each new year. A list of the things she wanted to undertake by the time she was forty.
    Her accomplishments to date were dismal.
    She’d never learned sign language. She didn’t have two children. She’d never seen the Grand Canyon. Or run a marathon. Or visited the Louvre.
    She’d also never had sex on a beach. Why the hell had she put that on there anyway? Gritty sand in hard-to-reach places, sunburn on tender places and seaweed in her hair? Couldn’t be good, could it?
    Tyson’s image popped into her mind. Tyson bare-chested on the beach, sand clinging to his sun-kissed shoulders. Mmm.
    How in the name of all that was holy was she going to see that man every day and not get tangled up in him? Even knowing that a man as capable and self-reliant as Tyson could seriously undermine her need to control her life and her sense of responsibility for everyone, didn’t stop this wanting. Sorting out where she was going probably wouldn’t happen if she got involved with him—she’d be too busy trying to run his life to pay attention to her own.
    So okay. She could do it. She could stay away, slide around corners when she saw him coming, and throw up some mental barbed-wire barriers when she absolutely had to talk to him. But something inside, some little know-it-all voice, said it wasn’t happening.
    She was toast.
    â€œWant some toast?”
    â€œHuh?” Her chin slid from where it rested on her palm. She jerked upright and looked at her brother, who’d obviously used ninja skills and snuck up on her. Stealth dwelt in the arsenal of a younger brother.
    â€œI said—” he yawned “—do you want some toast? I’m making some.”
    â€œNo. I’m still working on this cereal.” She tossed the spoon into the half-eaten mush.
    Jack padded around the kitchen in his boxers and snug T-shirt, slamming drawers and banging cabinet doors.
    â€œAre you trying to wake the baby?” Dawn drawled.
    â€œâ€™Cause you’re doing a good job of trying to wake the dead.”
    â€œYou’re cranky,” he said. “Have another cup of coffee.”
    â€œI’m not cranky,” she groused, knowing she was. She’d been crabby all of yesterday as she’d cleaned out the second-floor rooms at Tucker House. Mostly because she really needed to go over the résumé she’d been prepping to send out to the design firms in Houston. Because that was her future. Oak Stand was temporary. She had to keep one eye on what came next even while she gave this job her all. And that meant today she’d have to help Bubba cart the boxes to the third-story storage. Then she’d have to see the man who’d almost, but not quite, kissed her.
    â€œSo what’s with you? Is the baby keeping you up? I know our room is downstairs, but the kid has a pair of lungs like her aunt.”
    She ignored the barb. Her coffee was cold. But she didn’t move a muscle to