Totally Texan

Mary Lynn Baxter

Totally Texan

Dedicated to Walter G. Bates, forester and friend, who

once again gifted me with his immense talent.

Contents

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Coming Next Month

One

Grant Wilcox had just stepped out of his truck when Harvey Tipton, the postmaster, walked out of the Sip ’n Snack coffee shop.

Harvey greeted Grant with a grin through his scruffy beard and mustache. “Hey, about to take a look-see, huh? Or maybe I should say another one.”

Grant gave him a perplexed look. “What are you talking about?”

“The new piece in town.”

Grant made a face. “I’m assuming you’re referring to the new woman in town, right?”

“Right,” Harvey responded, with his head bobbing up and down, his grin still in place. He obviously saw no reason to be ashamed or to make an apology for his unflattering terminology. “She’s running the shop for Ruth.”

Of all people to run into, Grant groaned inwardly; Harvey was the town’s most prolific gossip. And the fact that he was a man made it worse.

Grant shrugged. “That’s news to me, but then I haven’t been in for coffee in a while.”

“When you see her you’ll regret that.”

“I doubt it,” Grant said wryly.

“I didn’t figure you for dead yet, Wilcox.”

“Give me a break, will you?” Grant was irritated and didn’t bother to hide the fact.

“Well, she’s a stunner,” Harvey declared. “Heads above anyone else around here.”

“So why are you telling me?” Grant asked in a bored tone, hoping Harvey would take the hint.

Harvey gave him a conspiratorial grin. “Thought maybe you might be interested, since you’re the only one around here without a wife or significant other.” He slapped Grant on the shoulder and widened his grin. “If you know what I mean.”

For a second Grant wanted to flatten the postmaster’s nose, but of course he didn’t. Harvey wasn’t the only one who had tried to play matchmaker for him.

Sure, he’d like a hot-blooded, feisty woman to occupy his bed on occasion, but the thought of anything permanent made him break into a chill. For the first time ever, life was good—especially in the small town of Lane, Texas. As a forester, Grant was doing what he loved and that was playing in the woods, cutting trees that would eventually earn him a ton of money.

More than that, he wasn’t ready to settle down. With his roaming past, he never knew when the itch to move might strike; then where would he be? Trapped. Nope, that wasn’t for him, at least not now.

“So want me to go back in and introduce you?” Harvey asked into the silence, following with a deep belly laugh.

Grant gritted his teeth and said, “Thanks, Harv, but I can take care of myself when it comes to women.” He pointedly looked at his watch. “I’m sure you have customers waiting for you.”

Harvey winked. “Gotcha.”

Yet once the postmaster was out of sight, Grant found himself walking a bit faster toward the entrance to the Sip ’n Snack.

Kelly Baker scrubbed her hands hard in the hot, sudsy water, pulling her lower lip between her teeth. She had been putting pastries in the front counter and was convinced she had goo up to her elbows.

Since she’d been in this small country town of Lane—three weeks now—she’d asked herself over and over if she’d truly lost her mind. She knew the answer, though, and it was no. Her cousin, Ruth Perry, had needed help, and Kelly had come to the rescue, just as Ruth had come to hers following the tragic event that had changed her life forever.

“Ouch,” Kelly mumbled, feeling a stinging sensation in her hands. Jerking them out of the water, she grabbed a towel, then frowned as she looked at her fingers. Gone were the long, beautifully manicured nails and the soft skin she was once so proud of. Now, her hands looked all dried and pruney, as if she kept them constantly immersed. She did, even though she had two daytime helpers, Albert and Doris.

Another sigh followed as Kelly looked around the empty coffee shop, picturing how it would look in a short time. It would be teeming with people. She smiled to herself at the word teeming. That term hardly fit this tiny town.

Still, who was she to make fun? Ruth’s newest addition to this logging community of two thousand had been a huge hit. With little invested, her cousin was already turning a profit—albeit a small one—selling gourmet coffees, pastries, soups and sandwiches.

According to the locals, Sip ’n Snack was the place to be. And that was good. If Kelly had to be in this place, at least she was where the action was, until the shop closed every day.

Kelly dreaded the evenings. They were far too long and gave her too much time to think. Even though she walked in the door of Ruth’s small, cozy house so exhausted she could barely make it to the bathtub, much less to bed, she still couldn’t sleep.

But nights had been her problem long before she came to Lane. And now with the empty afternoons, the past had ample opportunity to rear its traumatic head and haunt her once again. Soon, though, she would fulfill her obligation to her cousin and would be back at home in Houston where she belonged.

However, she reminded herself ruefully, her personal life hadn’t been any better there or she wouldn’t be here now. Inside, at the core of her being, her heart had been coated with cement that nothing could chip away.

“Phone for you, Kelly.”

When she picked it up, Ruth’s cheerful voice said, “Hi, toots, how’s it going?”

“It’s going.”

“I don’t want to keep bugging you, but I can’t stand not knowing what’s going on. I’m having major withdrawals from the shop.”

“I can imagine.”

“Have you met him yet?”

Kelly made a face. “Met who?”

Ruth chuckled. “The town hunk, the only single guy worth his salt around there.”

Kelly purposely hid her agitation. “If I met him, I didn’t know it.”

“Oh, trust me, you’d know.”

“You’re wasting your time, Ruth, playing matchmaker.”

Her cousin sighed. “It’s past time you looked at other men. Way past.”

“Who says I don’t look?”

“Pooh. You know what I mean.”

Kelly laughed. “Hey, don’t stress yourself about me. If I’m supposed to find someone else, I will.” Only not in this lifetime.

“Sure.” Ruth’s tone was a tad cynical. “You’re just telling me what I want to hear.”

Kelly laughed again. “Gotta run. I just heard the buzzer.”

Before Ruth could reply, Kelly hung up. Setting her smile in place, she came from behind the counter, only to pull up short and stare. Later, she didn’t know why she had behaved in such a manner. Perhaps it was because he was so tall and handsome.

Or better yet, perhaps it was the way he was looking at her.

Was this the “hunk” Ruth had just told her about?

To her chagrin, the stranger’s dark blue eyes began at the tip of her toes and worked slowly upward, missing nothing of her trim frame. He gave a pointed glance at her breasts and hair, making her strangely glad she had recently placed highlights in her short, sherry-colored tresses.

When those incredible dark eyes whipped back up to hers, the air was charged with electricity. Stunned, Kelly realized she was holding her breath.

“Like what you see?” she asked before she thought. God, where had that come from? Her real job. Being bold and forward was what had pushed her to succeed in her profession.

The big guy grinned, a slow, sexy grin. “As a matter of fact, I do.”

For the first time since her husband’s death four years prior, Kelly was completely unnerved by a man’s stare. And voice. She sensed, however, this stranger wasn’t just any man. There was something special about him that commanded attention. Rugged was the word that came to mind.

She wasn’t used to seeing men in worn jeans, washed so much that their color had faded, plus a flannel shirt, scarred steel-toed boots and a hard hat in his hand. Even in Lane, this caliber of man was rare.

He was still staring at her. Kelly shifted her feet and tried to look away, but failed. That ruggedness seemed to go hand in hand with his six-foot-plus height, muscled body and slightly mussed, sun-kissed brown hair.

Big and dangerous. A treacherous combination.

God, what was she thinking? No matter how attractive or charming the man, she wasn’t interested. If so, she would’ve encouraged other men’s affections—in Houston. He was probably up to his armpits in women, anyway, even in Lane.

No man would ever measure up to her deceased husband, Eddie. Having drawn that conclusion, Kelly had concentrated on her career and made it her reason for living.

Breaking into the growing silence, she asked in her most businesslike tone, “What can I get you?”

“What’s the special today?” he asked in a deep, brusque voice that matched his looks.

Kelly cleared her throat, glad some normalcy had returned. “Coffee?”

“That’ll do for starters,” he responded, striding deeper into the shop, pulling out a chair and sitting down.

“The specials are on the board.” To her dismay, Kelly was rooted to the spot like a tongue-tied imbecile. Then, red-faced, she finally whipped her gaze to the board behind the counter, which always listed the day’s coffee and food specials.

“Not this time,” he drawled, “unless I’ve lost a day.” He paused. “Today’s Wednesday, not Tuesday. Right?”

Convinced her face matched the color of her hair, Kelly nodded. She hadn’t changed the sign, which under ordinary circumstances wouldn’t have been a big deal. But for some reason, this man’s comment made her feel inadequate, a condition she despised.

Shrugging her shoulders, Kelly gave him a sugary smile and said, “French vanilla latte is the coffee flavor for the day.”

He rubbed his chin for a moment, then frowned. “Too bad a fellow can’t just get a plain cup of joe?”

Realizing that he was teasing her, she kept that smile in place and said, “Sorry, this is not that kind of shop. But then you know that. So if it’s supermarket coffee you want, you’ll have to make your own.”

He chuckled. “I know.”

Despite her reluctance, she felt a grin toying with her lips.

“I’ll take the plain brew that’s closest to normal old coffee.”

When she returned with the cup and placed it in front of him, Kelly didn’t look at him, hoping to discourage further conversation. Despite his good looks, for some reason, this man made her uncomfortable, and she wanted no part of him. Still, she handed him a menu.

He glanced at it, laid it aside, then looked back up at her. “So you’re the new Ruth?”

“Hardly.”

“So where is she?”

“Out of state caring for her ailing mother.”

“You’re filling in, huh?”

“For a while, anyway.”

His thick eyebrows bunched together as his gaze locked on her again. “By the way, I’m Grant Wilcox.”

“Kelly Baker.”

Instead of offering his hand, he nodded. “A pleasure.”

Every time he spoke, she had a physical reaction to his voice. It was like being struck by something you thought would be severe and bruising, so that you recoiled inwardly. Only it wasn’t at all. It was pleasant, in fact.

“You from around here?” he asked after taking a long sip of his coffee.

“No,” Kelly said hesitantly. “Actually, I’m from Houston. How about yourself?”

“Not originally. But I am now. I live about ten miles west of town. I own a logging company and recently bought the timber on a huge tract of land. So I’m stuck in Lane. At least for the time being.”

The skin around his eyes crinkled when he smiled, and he was smiling now. “We’ve just started cutting, and I’m happy as a pig in the sunshine.”

Was he deliberately trying to sound like a hick or was he trying to tell her something by using that off-putting terminology? “That’s good,” she said for lack of anything else to say. Despite her reaction to Grant, intellectually she couldn’t care less what he was or what he did. So she asked if he’d like something to eat now.

As if he picked up on her attitude, a smirk crossed his lips, then he said, “I’ll have a bowl of soup and a warm-up on my coffee.”

All he needed to add was “little lady” to go with that directive. He definitely didn’t seem to be the world’s most progressive guy. Was it so obvious she was out of her comfort zone? Or was he just intuitive? It didn’t matter. What did matter was that his condescending manner not only infuriated her, but also made her more determined than ever to serve him with perfection.

Grabbing the pot from behind the counter, Kelly made her way back toward his table, a smile plastered on her lips. She picked up his cup, and that was when it happened. The cup slipped from her hand and its contents landed in Grant Wilcox’s lap. He let out a shout.

Speechless with horror, Kelly watched as he kicked back his chair and stood.

“I’d say that was a good shot, lady,” he said.

Though her empty hand flew to her mouth, Kelly’s eyes dipped south, where they became glued to the wet spot surrounding his zipper.

Then they both looked up at the same time, their gazes locking.

“Fortunately, none the worse for wear,” he drawled, a slow smile crawling across his lips.

Horrified, mortified—you name it—Kelly could only stammer, “Oh my God—I’m so sorry.” Her voice sounded nothing like her own. “Stay put and I’ll get a towel.”

Whirling, she practically ran to the counter, When she returned, Grant’s eyes met hers again.

“Here, let me,” she said, reaching out, only to stop abruptly when she saw the open grin on his face. She yanked her hand back, feeling blood rush into her cheeks.

“That’s okay. I think I’ll just change my jeans.”

“Uh, right,” Kelly said after finding her voice.

“How much do I owe you?”

Kelly was appalled that he’d even ask that. “Under the circumstances, absolutely nothing.”

He turned then and walked toward the exit. Kelly could only stand spellbound in shock.

When he reached the door he turned and winked. “See ya.”

She hoped not. But at the same time, she was sorry, because he did have the cutest ass and swagger she’d ever seen—even when he’d just braved hot coffee from her hands.

Too bad they were wasted on her.

Two

He hated paperwork, but that didn’t mean he could ignore it.

Grant’s gaze cut over to the desk in the corner of the room, and he groaned. Not only were there stacks of invoices that had to be paid, there were folders that needed to be filed.

He’d gone outdoors for a while. Swinging an ax had given him some much-needed physical relief. After spending most of the morning behind closed doors with his banker, reviewing his finances, he’d needed the outlet. Bank sessions nearly always made a nutcase out of him.

A lot of things this morning had made him half-crazy. Following his shower a short time ago, he’d checked his crown jewels for the first time, since their coffee bath that morning, and deduced they were intact and good to go.

Grant snorted. Only problem with the latter, they had no place to go. Better yet, no one to go to. He could barely recall the last time he’d shared a bed with a woman and really enjoyed it. Through the years, few women had had the power to either disturb his libido or hold his interest.

However, he had to admit with brutal honesty that Ruth Perry’s replacement, whoever she was, had definitely done both.

Kelly Baker was one fine woman. He couldn’t help but notice her fragile porcelain skin with its delicate dusting of freckles. She had wonderful bones, with curves that were just right, and her clothes draped her slender frame to perfection.

Too bad she didn’t seem to have a brain to match all those physical assets. A twinge of conscience bit him, telling him that probably wasn’t a fair assessment of the woman. They’d spoken for barely two minutes, and he didn’t know anything about her but her name. No doubt, though, she was out of her element and didn’t have a clue what she was doing in the food business. Under other conditions and circumstances, he might have enjoyed spending time with her.

“Ah, hell, Wilcox,” he muttered, reaching for his beer and taking another swig, “give it a rest.”

She wouldn’t be caught dead with the likes of him. It hadn’t taken him but a few seconds to get her number—a city broad with a city attitude. As far as he was concerned, both those things sucked. No way would the two of them ever get together.

Again, that was too bad; she was a looker. He liked women with spunk, and she appeared to have more than her share of that. He’d relish the opportunity to play with a woman like her. For a few days anyway, he mused ruefully. It was okay to dream, just as long as he didn’t do something foolish and try to turn those dreams into reality.

He almost laughed aloud at that crazy thought.

No way was he going to mess with that woman. Already there was something about her that was a real turn-on to him. Perhaps it was because she appeared so untouchable, so condescending, that he wanted to explore what lay under that sheet of ice, then prove he was man enough to melt it. First by grabbing her and pressing her against the wall of his chest… He could almost taste her flesh as he imagined himself caressing, nibbling, kissing her mouth, her neck, her shoulders and her back.

What would she feel? Would he make her tingle, make her hot?

Now that was a hoot, thinking she’d ever let him within touching distance. Disgusted with his thoughts of the ice queen, Grant got up, trudged to the kitchen and helped himself to another beer.

It was after he’d killed the contents that the idea struck him. He stood still, feeling heat boil up in him. “Ah, hell, Wilcox. Forget it. That’s crazy. You’re crazy!”

Crazy or not, he was going to do it. Grabbing a jacket, he headed out the door, knowing that he’d probably lost what mind he had left.

Her face still flamed.

And not from the tub of hot water she’d been soaking in for at least thirty minutes. How could she have done such a thing? How could she have been so clumsy? She never had been at such a loss before. Cool, calm and collected was how she was thought of at the firm, how she generally operated on a day to day basis.

Or at least how she used to, before…

Kelly shook her head, refusing to go there. She had already beaten up on herself enough. To dwell on the now was not only detrimental to her psyche, but stupid. What happened four years ago couldn’t be changed. Nothing would ever bring her family back.

What happened this morning, however, was another matter altogether.

“Merciful heaven,” Kelly muttered, reaching for the loofah and sudsing her body so hard she left it tingling. Then, deciding she couldn’t change the morning’s embarrassment no matter how much she might want to, she got out of the tub and dried off.

Later, wrapped in a warm robe, she sat on the sofa close to the fireplace. Even though it was relatively early, she should try to get some sleep, but she knew any attempt to do so would be futile. Her mind was still too revved up. Besides, at home she hardly ever went to bed before midnight, usually kept company by a ton of work she brought home from the office.

Thinking about work, Kelly felt her heart falter.

She missed her office, her clients, her condo. She missed them with a passion. In the Houston Galleria area she heard the sounds of traffic, not owls. She shivered and wrapped her robe tighter around her. Something hot to drink always seemed to soothe her. Not this evening, however. Although she had made a cup of her favorite flavored coffee and took several sips of it, she still felt unsettled.

She lay back and closed her eyes, only to find the image of Grant Wilcox unexpectedly imprinted on the back of her lids. Instead of freaking out, she let her mind have free reign—first, picturing him again in his flannel shirt and tight, faded jeans, covering a body most men would die for, then wondering what made him tick.

Why did she care?

So he was better than average looking in his rough, sexy way—she’d already conceded that. His features were carved with decisive strokes, and he had a killer smile and dimples to go along with that amazing body.

He had that muscled, yet loose-limbed agility that most big men didn’t possess. She could picture him working outdoors shirtless, mending a fence, felling timber, or doing whatever he did.

Suddenly, her mind jumped ship and she imagined him without his jeans. No underwear, either.

The image didn’t stop there. Next came the vision of the two of them together, naked…

Stop it! She told herself. What had gotten into her?

She was so traumatized by her thoughts, she couldn’t even open her eyes. So what? No one knew what was going on inside her head. Those erotic, mental meanderings were hers and hers alone and would bring harm to no one.

Wrong.

This was a dangerous mind game she was playing—examining her life, including her loneliness and her need to be accepted and loved. Still, the images wouldn’t let go—of mouths, tongues, entwined, of kisses that sucked out the soul.

The phone proved merciful to her, ringing with a jarring clarity just then. Lurching up, heart palpitating and drenched in sweat, Kelly let go of a pent-up breath.

“God!” she whispered, mortified and confused. Loosening her robe, she reached for the receiver.

“Hey, kiddo, how’s it going?”

Ruth again. Although Kelly didn’t want to talk to her, she had no choice. Perhaps her cousin’s laughter was the antidote she needed to gather her scattered wits about her.

“How was the rest of the day?”

“Are you sure you want to know?” Kelly asked, a tremor in her voice.

“Uh-oh, something happen?”

“You might say so.”

“Hey, I don’t like the sound of that.” Ruth paused. “Okay, did the help quit?”

“No way. They love me.”

“Whew. That’s a relief. If you knew how hard it was for me to find those two, you’d be relieved, too.”

“I am. They’re great.”

“So, if the place is still standing and you’re selling the goods, what could be so bad?”

Kelly cleared her throat. “Do you know a farmer by the name of Grant Wilcox?”

Ruth laughed. “First off, he’s no farmer. He’s a forester.”

“Whatever.”

“They aren’t the same, cousin dear.”

“That’s a minor point, but I’ll concede.”

“Girl, he’s the hunk I was telling you about. Surely you figured that out.”

“I guessed as much.”

“So what do…did…you think?”

If only you knew. “He’s okay.”

“Just okay?” Ruth practically screeched. “I’m not believing you. He’s had every female in the county and surrounding ones try to get him down the aisle.” She paused with a laugh. “Without success, I might add.”

“That’s too bad. You of all people know I’m not interested in being with a farmer, for God’s sake.” Kelly found herself squirming on the sofa.

“Forester.”

Kelly ignored that. “What he is is a country bumpkin who probably prefers to hug trees rather than women.” She paused. “No offense intended.”