Читать книгу: «The Sex Solution», страница 3

“Excuse me.”

He felt a tap on his shoulder and turned to find himself staring into a pair of bright green eyes. The same eyes that had stared at him over an extralarge box of lubricated condoms earlier that day.

For the first time since Austin had vowed to find a wife, he actually wondered if maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t making a big mistake. Because suddenly hot and heavy sex in the here and now seemed a heck of a lot more appealing than peace and contentment somewhere in the far-off future.

3

EASY, HOSS.

Austin took a deep breath and tried to steady himself as one all-important fact registered—this was Maddie Hale. The bookworm who’d spent class time listening rather than writing notes back and forth with her friends.

Actually she’d written one note, but he’d done his damnedest in the past twelve years to forget all about the poetic declaration of love he’d happened upon purely by accident. He’d also tried to forget those few tension-filled moments standing near the concession stand when he’d looked at her, really looked at her, for the very first time.

Love note aside, she was still the shy girl who’d blushed at him from the safety of an algebra book and brought him homemade muffins.

The innocent who’d never once ventured behind the bleachers during a football game.

He knew the backside of those bleachers by heart. Hell, he’d carved most of those names himself and hers was not among the bunch. He’d be willing to bet his finest horse that she didn’t even know about the conquest bench. What’s more, he would lay down his entire spread that she’d never set her fine little bottom down and kissed up a Gulf hurricane with one of the locals, either.

Maddie had been too nice and wholesome and respectable for bleacher smooching. And that afternoon at Skeeter’s he’d been wrong to think she was anything but the same sweet girl now.

The proof dangled from Cheryl Louise’s head.

He stared past the top of Maddie’s soft blond hair, that smelled of sweet strawberries and cream, to the group of women sitting nearby.

A drape of white tulle decorated with condom packages sat atop the bride-to-be’s head. Six to be exact. The same brand, same size Maddie had purchased that afternoon. Obviously they hadn’t been meant for her personal use.

A crazy assumption in the first place. Maddie wasn’t the condom type. She was the quiet, mild, I’m-saving-it-all-for-the-man-of-my-dreams kind of girl. Why, she made muffins, for Chrissake! Big, giant, melt-in-your-mouth homemade blueberry muffins. Sure, they couldn’t compete with a bowl of Miss Marshalyn’s candied sweet potatoes, but they came in a close second.

Now that Austin had given up fast times and even faster women, Maddie was exactly his type of woman. On top of that, she was an old friend. The only female, in fact, who’d ever qualified for such a title.

Austin Jericho had never kept company with girls he’d had no sexual interest in. He’d always wanted something from them and they’d wanted something from him—namely a good round of red-hot, breath-stealing sex. Or several rounds.

Not Maddie.

The only thing she’d wanted from him had been his daily homework assignment and his full attention when she was explaining the newest algebra equation.

There’d been no sly glances, no fluttering eyelashes or wandering hands or heaving cleavage. Hell, he’d never even known she had cleavage, thanks to the sacklike flower-print dresses she’d always worn.

Except for that Friday night at the football game. She’d worn a red sweater and blue jeans and he’d actually realized she had a figure. Nice, round hips. Large breasts. But while shapely, the clothes hadn’t been revealing.

Not like what she wore now.

His attention shifted back to her and the enticing display of creamy flesh fully visible above the neckline of her black leather tank top. His gut hollowed for a long moment and his mouth went dry.

Easy, he told himself.

So what if she had visible cleavage? That didn’t mean she’d checked her morals at the door and turned into a bona fide, red-hot, give-it-to-me-now wild woman.

This was Maddie, he reminded himself, drawing a long pull on his beer.

The only girl he’d actually been able to talk to about stuff, like his love of horses and his desperation to do something other than perpetuate his family’s no-good reputation. He hadn’t worried about impressing her or sweeping her off her feet. He’d never even thought about her like that.

Okay, maybe that once, when he’d opened her love letter. But when he’d asked her about it at the football game, she’d sworn that it hadn’t been meant for him. He’d let things go at that, and he’d let her go. He’d walked off with Barbara Mayfield for a wild ride on his Harley and an even wilder ride in the back of her daddy’s old pickup.

His attention snagged on her lips. Soft, full, kissable lips. His heart bucked and his blood rushed and a certain part of his anatomy, a certain hard part, throbbed just thinking about what she would taste like.

“What do you say?” she asked, her sweet voice pushing past the pounding of his heart. “Are you up for a little two-stepping?”

He was up, all right. But his throbbing erection had little to do with dancing and everything to do with Maddie.

It’s Madeline. No one really calls me Maddie anymore.

He could see why. She looked too sophisticated, too sexy, too…hot.

So?

Even if the package looked a little different, this was still Maddie. Nice, wholesome, respectable Maddie.

He smiled, set his beer on the bar and reached for her hand. “Lead the way, darlin’.”

THERE WAS NOTHING NICE, wholesome or respectable about the sexy woman in his arms.

The thought struck him the moment they moved onto the dance floor and she stepped into his arms.

The two-step had faded into a slow, sweet, cryin’ tune that required a little more contact than he’d anticipated. Her arms slid around his neck. Her full breasts pressed against his chest. Her pelvis cradled his, moving against him with a soft, subtle sway that sent a bolt of electricity straight from his hard-on to his brain.

The jolt scrambled his sanity, and instead of pushing her away and running for safety, he pulled her even closer and closed his eyes.

Her hair tickled the underside of his jaw. Her strawberries-and-cream scent filled his head. Her luscious curves pressed against his hard body. Her warmth seeped inside and made his blood rush faster.

His hand slid an inch lower, easing from the small of her back to the swell of her sweet little ass molded by the tight miniskirt. His other hand slid up her back, under the spill of hair to cup the back of her neck. His fingers pressed into her flesh and his thumb drew lazy circles against the tender spot just below her ear. If he hadn’t known better, he would have sworn he heard her sigh—a soft, breathy sound that meant she liked his touch.

That it turned her on. That she wanted more. Right here. Right now.

For a split second, he inched toward her nipple puckered beneath the slick material of her halter top. He wanted desperately to slide his fingers beneath the plunging neckline and tease the ripe tip…

Slow down.

She was not the sort of girl to get busy on the dance floor in front of half the damned town. She was a good girl. Tame rather than wild. He had to slow down and behave himself.

His eyes popped open. He eased his hold and drew back to a respectable distance.

“What’s wrong?” She stared up at him, her green eyes glittering beneath the swirl of colored dance-hall lights. Her forehead wrinkled and he had the sudden urge to reach up and smooth the lines away with his fingertip. “Austin?” Surprise turned to concern. “Are you okay?”

“Um, yeah. I just think we need to slow things down a little.”

Instead of smiling because he was being a proper gentleman, she frowned. “I think things were going just fine.”

“We were moving too fast. Way too fast. I don’t like fast.”

“Since when?” She eyed him. “You were always racing around on your motorcycle, burning rubber down Main Street, and burning up the sheets with some lucky girl afterward.”

“How do you know I burned up the sheets?”

She stared up at him, a knowing look in her wide green eyes. Not a plain old grass green at all, but a deep, vibrant shade of jade that glittered and teased and dared him when she smiled.

Like now.

“Word gets around. You definitely liked fast.”

“The only thing fast in my life now is my cutting horse. Speaking of which—” he checked his watch “—I have to be up early and it’s getting late.” He pinned her with a stare. “Way past your bedtime if memory serves me.” She’d always been bright eyed in the morning. Always well rested from a full night’s sleep while he’d been barely able to keep his eyes open in class.

“That was before I realized what I was missing.” She gestured toward the table of women, their drinks raised in a toast. She waved. “The party’s just getting started.”

“I never figured you for a party girl.”

“Oh, I love parties!”

“Since when?”

“Since I left this hole-in-the-wall town and realized what I was missing.”

“A vicious hangover the morning after?”

“Hours of fun the night before.” Her eyes sparkled with meaning and his body throbbed. “Don’t be such a fuddy-duddy. At least finish the dance before you call it a night.” She stepped up against him and twined her arms around his neck again.

He drew a deep breath and resisted the urge to pull her close and show her what she could do with her fuddy-duddy. Instead, he anchored his hands on her waist and did his damnedest to ignore the heat seeping into his fingertips and the sweet scent teasing his nostrils.

“So how are the libraries in Dallas?” he blurted, eager to prove that she was still the girl he remembered.

She’d loved the library. She’d spent every afternoon sitting in the corner with her nose buried in a book, a muffin beside her, while life at Cadillac High had passed her by. “Huge, I bet. Fully stocked with everything from Madame Bovary to The Life and Times of Marie Curie.” He recited two of the books he’d seen her with way back when.

“Actually, I’ve never been to a library in Dallas. I’m too busy.”

“You probably spend all your time in your lab. You were always holed up in the chemistry room when you weren’t in the library.”

“I do spend a lot of time at work, but not just in the lab. I’ve got marketing meetings and product demonstrations, and I do try to take time off to have fun.”

He remembered the so-called social activities she and her geeky friends had engaged in on Friday and Saturday nights when everyone else had been at football games or out cruising in their cars. Only sexy Sarah who’d had a reputation almost as bad as Austin’s had been the exception. “Poetry readings and baking?”

“Bungee jumping and rock concerts.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Rock concerts?”

“Creed. I’ve seen them twice. My first time, I marked the occasion with this.” She moved the veil of blond hair hanging over one shoulder and turned so he could see the back of one delectable shoulder. A small red devil smiled back at him.

A she-devil. As in hot, as in wild, as in give it to me now.

While his mind tried to register the fact that sweet, demure Maddie Hale had a tattoo, his body simply reacted. His mouth went dry. His heart jumped. The hard-on stretching his jeans tight throbbed in anticipation.

“It was my first concert and I went a little crazy.”

He swallowed and searched for his voice. “Damn straight you did,” he finally croaked.

“I was going to get something a little more tame, like a heart or Tweety Bird or something cute. But then I saw this and thought, what the hell? I can be as wild as the next woman.”

Hardly. She was sweet. Wholesome. Respectable. She couldn’t have changed that much, and Austin intended to prove it.

“You still eat blueberry muffins every afternoon?” He zeroed in on the memory of her sitting in the library, munching away as she waited for him. “One jumbo muffin every day at four.”

“Sure do.”

He drew in a deep breath. See? She hasn’t changed that much.

“English muffins. No butter.” At his outraged look, she added, “A girl’s got to watch her figure.”

Okay, so she’d climbed the thermometer a few degrees since high school. She was counting calories, worrying about keeping her curvaceous body in shape so that she could show it off with revealing clothes rather than flower-print dresses.

So what?

A great figure and revealing clothes and a party life and a tattoo didn’t mean she truly had morphed into the exact type of woman he’d sworn off when he’d made up his mind to settle down.

“But you loved blueberry muffins, and people shouldn’t give up things they love because society tells them to.” He recited the words she’d told him every time she’d seen one of the “in” girls scarfing carrot sticks. She’d wrinkled her nose and given him a lecture about society’s oppression of women, and how he should open his mind to all sorts of beauty. And he’d enjoyed every minute. Very few people had ever cared enough about his opinion to try to change it.

Except Maddie.

“Muffins are way too fattening.”

“You always wore a bike helmet when you pedaled around town on that three-speed of yours.” He was grasping, but a guy had to do what a guy had to do.

“Yeah, but now I like to feel the breeze blow through my hair. I even graduated to a ten-speed.” Her eyes lit. “It’s really fast.”

“You always carried an umbrella even when there wasn’t a cloud in the sky.”

She shrugged. “It’s fun getting caught in the rain.”

“The girl I remember wouldn’t be caught dead wearing a leather halter top in a place like this.”

“And the boy I remember wouldn’t be wasting time talking with a woman wearing a leather halter top in a place like this when he could be doing other, more important, things.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

She eyed him, licked her lips and murmured, “Kiss me.”

Austin stared at her damp mouth for one heart-stopping moment and imagined what she would taste like.

Tart, like the wine she’d been drinking. And hot. Like the woman she’d become—his hottest, most erotic fantasy.

“Pretty please.”

Her soft plea pushed past the frantic pounding of his heart and chipped away at his resolve.

He drank in a deep breath of her, let his gaze linger on her slick, full lips for a long, hungry moment and then Austin did the only thing a man who’d made up his mind to settle down for good could do—he turned and walked the other way.

Because Austin had given up indulging his fantasies. A fantasy was temporary. One night. Maybe a few if it was a really good fantasy. But he wanted more. He wanted each day, every day, from here on out. He wanted to plant roots and build a home and make babies with a woman who wanted the same.

The new and improved Madeline Hale, with her big-city ways and her big-city life, had one-night stand written all over her.

4

“HERE’S THE FLIGHT NUMBER and the arrival time.” Cheryl Louise scribbled the information on a napkin the next morning as she sat across from Madeline at Chester’s Diner.

Madeline slathered fat-free yogurt on her whole-wheat toast and did her best to ignore the smell drifting from across the table of pancakes drenched in butter and syrup. While she indulged in Oreos for the sake of creativity, there was nothing at stake now except her deprived taste buds.

Back in Dallas, it was so much easier to keep her normal routine. She worked so hard that she barely had time to think about food. When she did, it was much easier to shake the cravings. She had only to glance around V.A.M.P.’s executive offices at the svelte women in their designer suits and name-brand shoes to motivate herself. Maddie had spent her entire adolescence not fitting in. No more. She fit in just fine back in Dallas.

Here in Cadillac, there wasn’t a Gucci jacket or a pair of leather Pradas in sight. There was food. Lots of home-cooked, mouthwatering food. And conversation. And…warmth.

She shook the thought away and fixed her attention on the nervous bride-to-be sitting across the scarred Formica tabletop.

“Make sure you’re there early and make sure you’ve got a sign or something so he’ll know who you are.”

“He’s on a commuter flight with eighty pounds of horse feed and three new hogs for the Double D Ranch. The only other person who’ll be at the airport is old Mr. Denton. I doubt I could get lost in the crowd.”

“Promise you’ll carry a sign. His eyesight isn’t what it used to be. And Uncle Spur’s not used to being in the big city.”

“We’re in Cadillac. Population three thousand. No McDonald’s. No after-hours grocery store. No tanning bed.”

“Donna Mae Walters over at the Toss-n-Tease put in a stand-up tanning unit last year.”

“Okay, so the town’s come of age. It still doesn’t qualify as a huge metropolis.” At Cheryl’s worried expression, she added, “I’ll keep the radio on an AM farm station and we won’t go near the Toss-n-Tease. That way he won’t have major culture shock.”

“Thanks so much.” Cheryl Louise smiled and nibbled at her pancakes. “I was hoping you’d be the one to do this. The other girls tend to let him get under their skin. The last time he came down for my graduation, he told Sarah that she should stop coloring her hair and let it go natural.”

“Red is her natural color.”

“That’s what she told Uncle Spur, but then he demanded proof.”

“But how could she prove…” Her thoughts trailed off as she did a mental evaluation of all the possibilities. Realization dawned and her eyes widened. “He didn’t.”

“He didn’t mean it in a sexual way, of course. He’s a sweet old man, but practical. He handed her a pair of tweezers.”

“Ouch.” She grinned. “I bet Sarah told him where to get off.”

“Believe it or not, she went through with it and proved him wrong. Not that it was enough. He said it wasn’t hers and he wouldn’t settle for anything less than a DNA match to verify ownership.” Her voice lowered. “He’s sort of bored out there and I think he watches a little too much TV at times. Anyway, she said no, but then he came after her with a pair of scissors. He didn’t catch her, of course, but by the end of the party, she was in tears.”

“Tears? Our Sarah? She’s never cried over anyone or anything.” Except once, at Sharon’s funeral. They’d all cried, except for Madeline. It had taken all of her strength just to stand beside the grave and breathe. Afterward she’d climbed into her car and left her small unsophisticated, going-nowhere town far behind, the way Sharon had always wanted to.

Sharon?

No, Maddie had wanted to leave, as well, and she’d done just that. She’d left her old life, her old self and her haunting memories of that night, and headed off to pursue her own dreams.

And boy, have I got a piece of beachfront property smack-dab in the middle of Kansas to sell you.

She ignored the nagging voice and the image that niggled at the back of her mind. A clear, star-studded sky. A gravel road. An enormous tree…

She shifted in her seat, suddenly anxious to do something. “Can I have a bite?” she blurted before reaching over for a piece of Cheryl’s pancakes.

The sugary sweet flavor of maple exploded on her tongue and consumed her senses, and she concentrated on chewing.

“Um, sure. In fact, I’m not really hungry.” She slid the plate toward Madeline. “Anyhow, he scared off Sarah right then and there. The others are just as leery of him, but I know you won’t let Uncle Spur ruffle you.”

Way back when maybe.

But not now. She dealt with snotty marketing personnel and a bitch of a research director on a daily basis. She could hold her own with a difficult old man.

“I can handle it,” she said, taking another bite. She would have to handle it, because she’d lost the game.

Thanks to Austin.

One measly kiss. That’s all she’d wanted from him. She might as well have asked for his balls on a platter. That’s how horrified he’d looked when she’d made the request.

Far from the reaction she’d anticipated, considering that he’d actually given her The Look with those liquid blue eyes. The Look that said I want you and I aim to have you.

Not that she’d ever been on the receiving end of one of his legendary looks. He’d reserved those for the school bad girls who’d always flocked around him. But for a little while last night, she’d felt like one of those bold women instead of the shy, frumpy goody-goody she’d been all those years ago. She’d felt truly attractive and drop-dead gorgeous and wanted.

Felt? To hell with that. She was all three, even if Austin Jericho hadn’t recognized it. He was obviously still stuck in the past, viewing her in all her Gem glory.

Geeky.

Brainy.

Matronly.

As the familiar words she’d heard from her peers time and time again echoed through her head, she became aware of the mouthful of syrup and pancakes tantalizing her taste buds. She swallowed and pushed the plate away.

Cheryl glanced at her watch. “I have to run. I’ll meet you at the house later to introduce you to my plants and go over Twinkles’s hygiene schedule.”

Twinkles had a hygiene schedule?

The question echoed through her mind and another sliver of apprehension went through her. Madeline fought it back down and smiled. Twinkles was just a dog, even if he did have a hygiene schedule, and Madeline liked dogs. While she didn’t actually have an animal of her own—she wasn’t home enough to take care of one—she’d always loved cute, cuddly puppies. As for the plants…how hard could daily watering be?

“Have fun at the hairdresser and try to enjoy the rest of the day.”

“I’ll enjoy the honeymoon, especially knowing that you’re looking out for Twinkles and my girls.” She stood and gathered up her purse and bridal book. “Oh, and don’t forget the sign. Uncle Spur can’t see to save his life.”

“WELL, WELL. Just call me a three-legged jackrabbit and put me out of my misery if it ain’t Maddie Hale.”

Time seemed to have stood still for Spur Tucker. He’d looked ancient then with his shock of snow-white hair and his leathery skin, and he’d changed little. He stooped a fraction more and his hair had thinned some. Otherwise, he was every bit the man she remembered from all those childhood Christmases, with the exception of his eyes. Rather than cloudy and gray as they’d been back then, they were now a clear, crystal blue.

She peered closer. “You know who I am?” She hadn’t even held up her sign, complete with extra bold letters.

“’Course I do. What do you think I am, blind or something?”

“Well,” she started, but he cut her off.

“Well, I ain’t. Cataract surgery. My vision’s as first-rate as the rest of me.”

“That’s good.”

“’Course it is.” His face crinkled as he narrowed his eyes and sized her up. “I see you still got plenty of meat on them bones of yours.”

“And I see you’re still every bit as charming.”

“’Course I am, and I’m also a whole lot wiser.” He handed several bags to her and picked up the lightest. “Speaking of which, let’s get going ’cause I ain’t of a mind to waste time. I got things to do.”

“The wedding’s not until later tonight.” Madeline picked up the largest bag and her shoulder wrenched. “You’ve got time for a little nap.”

“A nap? Hells bells, I ain’t got time to sleep. I still have to shower and shave, polish my boots, squirt on some of the vanilla extract I packed just for special occasions. I aim to look and smell my Sunday best.”

“I’m sure Cheryl Louise will appreciate that.” She hoisted bag number two. “You must have packed an awful big bottle of vanilla.”

“Those are extra vittles. A man’s got to eat and I know how you women are. Why, you’re liable to torture me with rabbit food for the next few days.” He gave her another once-over. “’Course you probably got some vittles of your own stashed away. Why, you could probably hibernate a good six months with what you got stored in them hips of yours.”

She let the suitcase slip from her hands and watched his look go from smug to panicked as his luggage dropped to the floor.

“Whoops, sorry about that,” she muttered.

“Lordy be, just tote the danged thing. Don’t throw it around.” He shook his head. “And all the primping ain’t for Cheryl Louise. It’s for the future Mrs. Spur Nathaniel Elijah James Tucker.”

“You’re engaged?”

“Sure am.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I will be once I narrow down the playing field. I figure that ought to take a good fifteen minutes. Maybe ten. There are a lot of prime cutting horses at the Newfolk Auction, too, but I can always pick the best of ’em in less than ten minutes.”

“You really intend to find a wife this weekend?” She struggled after him with the bags.

“That’s why I’m here.”

“I thought you were here for Cheryl Louise’s wedding.”

“It’s called killing two hogs with one load of buckshot. Since this here’s a social event, I thought I’d do double duty. Pay my respects to the bride and groom and find my own little bride to fetch back home.” He picked up his steps. “Enough of this chitchat. Get a move on. I don’t aim to keep the future missus wait-in’.”

SHE SHOULD HAVE BOUGHT the bread maker.

Madeline came to that conclusion the minute she walked inside Cheryl Louise’s family home two hours later and came face-to-face with Twinkles.

Literally.

Twinkles was a Great Dane and far, far removed from the cute and cuddly puppy stage. Standing on his hind legs, his paws braced on her shoulders, he looked her straight in the eye. His snout bopped her in the nose. A fat, wet tongue flopped out and licked at her face.

“He’s really…big,” she told Sarah, who’d met her at the house since Cheryl Louise was still stuck at the hairdresser.

“He’s big and several years old, but still as playful as a puppy.”

“Is that where he got the name Twinkles?”

“‘Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star’ is his favorite lullaby. He likes to hear it every night after his evening walk.” Sarah grabbed a spiral notebook from the nearby coffee table and flipped several pages. “He likes ‘Mary Had A Little Lamb’ after his morning walk, which should follow Live with Regis and Kelly—that’s his favorite TV show.” She held up the notebook. “It’s all right here. There’s a detailed schedule for feeding and hygiene, as well as a page with lyrics in case you’re not up on your lullabies. And a TV schedule, as well. Oh, Cheryl also included a picture diagram of Twinkles with a list of the exact spots where he likes to be scratched. The last few pages contain information on the plants. They’re all on the sun porch out back. Each pot is labeled with a name and an age.”

“And a lullaby?”

“Actually, they like country music. There’s a CD player out back complete with a stack of George Strait CDs. Each is labeled with a time slot and a preferred song.” Sarah must have noticed Madeline’s shocked look. “Look on the bright side, at least Tilly the farting poodle is going with them. Besides, it’s only two weeks. They almost went to Australia, which would have meant a solid three.”

“Want to time-share with me?”

“I went for a popcorn maker myself. Speaking of which, I need to get going. I have to run by my house and grab the gift before I head for the church. I picked up the dresses at the dry cleaners. Yours is hanging over there.”

Madeline managed to dodge another lick and twist away from Twinkles. She crossed the living room and took a closer look at the dress hanging from the window casing.

“It’s really orange.”

“Cheryl Louise calls it coral.”

“And frilly.”

“She wanted a traditional Southern-belle look.”

Twinkles walked up behind Madeline and started sniffing her backside. “I must be deranged.”

“Why didn’t you just get something off her bridal registry?”

“I thought house-sitting would be more personal.”

“You’re right about that.” Sarah laughed as Twinkles stood on his hind legs and went for another wet lick. The sound died the minute she heard the door creak open. She turned to see Uncle Spur hobble over the threshold.

Madeline had left him to finish one of his atrocious cigars on the porch. A cloud of smoke and smell surrounded him.

“You remember Uncle—achewww!” Madeline sneezed once, twice, while doing her best to avoid Twinkles and her overzealous affection. She’d never been allergic to dog hair, but then she’d never had a dog right in her face either.

“Say it, don’t spray it,” Uncle Spur grumbled as he walked past Madeline and headed for the stairs. “I’m in the second room to the left. Hurry up and get the bags out of the car. I need plenty of grooming time before I go hunting. Hey there, Red,” he said to Sarah, who turned a noticeable shade of white and backed up a few steps. “Or so you say.”

“I, um, really need to go,” Sarah mumbled as she snatched up her purse, careful to keep her eye on Uncle Spur as she backed her way around him. “See you at the church.”

“Where’s the dye queen running off to in such a hurry?” Uncle Spur stared at the open doorway and watched Sarah hightail it out to her car.

“She’s a natural redhead.”

“And you’re a size three.”

She glared at the old man. “Are you always so pleasant?”

He frowned. “Damn straight I am, and don’t you forget it.” He turned and hobbled up the stairs. “Get moving. I got things to do.”

“Sic ’em, boy,” Madeline whispered as Uncle Spur disappeared up the stairs. The dog just wagged his tail and came at Madeline for another sloppy kiss. “Just my luck,” she grumbled, twisting her head to the side to dodge the massive tongue. “I get stuck with a lover when what I really need is a fighter.”