Not Just a Cowboy

Lord, college had been a decade ago. What was it about this fireman—this Luke Waterson—that made her think of being twenty-two instead of thirty-two?

He used his heavy helmet to fan Zach’s face, a move that made his well-defined bicep flex. Frankly, the man looked like a male stripper in a fireman’s costume. Maybe that explained her sudden coed feeling. When she’d been twenty-two, she’d been to enough bachelorette parties to last her a lifetime. If she’d seen one male review with imitation firemen dancing for money, then she’d seen them all.

Those brides had been divorced and planning their second weddings as everyone in her social circle approached their thirtieth birthdays together. Patricia had declined the second round of bachelorette weekends. Always the bridesmaid, happy to have escaped being the bride.

Until this year.

The real fireman used his forearm to swipe his forehead, the bulge of his bicep exactly at her eye level. Oh, this Luke was eye candy for women, all right. Muscular, physical—

There’s no reason to be so distracted. This is absurd.

She was head of personnel, and this man was wiping his brow because he was nearly as overheated as the unfortunate Zach-on-the-asphalt. If Patricia didn’t take care of Luke, she’d soon be short two firemen on her personnel roster.

She plucked one of the water bottles out of her nearest staff member’s hand. The young lady didn’t move, her gaze fastened upon Luke.

Annoyed with her staff for being as distracted as she’d let herself be, Patricia stood and looked around the circle of people. “Thank you. You can go back to work now.”

Her team scattered. Patricia felt more herself. It was good to be in charge. Good to have a job to do.

She handed Luke the bottle. “Drink this.”

He obeyed her, but that grin never quite left his face as he knelt on one knee before her, keeping his gaze on her face as he tilted his head back and let the cool water flow down his throat.

Look away, Patricia. Use your radio. Contact the fire chief and let him know where his men are. Look away.

But she didn’t. She watched the man drink his water, watched him pitch it effortlessly, accurately, into the nearest trash can, and watched him resume his casual position, one forearm on his knee. He reached down to press his fingers against his friend’s wrist once more.

“He’s fine,” Luke announced after a few seconds of counting heartbeats. “It’s easy to get light-headed out there. Nothing some shade and some water couldn’t fix.”

“Is there anything else I can get you?”

He touched the brim of an imaginary hat in a two-fingered salute. “Thank you for the water, ma’am. You never told me your name.”

“Patricia,” she said. She had to clear her throat delicately, for the briefest moment, and then, instead of describing herself the way she always did, as Patricia Cargill, she said something different. “I’m the personnel director.”

“Well, Patricia,” he said, and then he smiled, a flash of white teeth and an expression of genuine pleasure in his tanned face. His grin had only been a tease compared to this stunning smile. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He meant it, she could tell. He’d checked her out, he found her attractive, and that smile was inviting her in, inviting her to smile, too, inviting her to enjoy a little getting-to-know you flirtation.

Patricia couldn’t smile back. She wasn’t like that. Flirting for fun was a luxury for people who didn’t have obligations. She’d never learned how to do it. She’d known only responsibility, even when she’d been twenty-two and men had been interested in her for more than her bank account and Cargill connections.

It almost hurt to look at Luke Waterson’s open smile, at the clear expression of approval and interest on his handsome face.

She preferred not to waste energy on useless emotions. And so, she nodded politely and she turned away.

Chapter Two

So, the princess doesn’t want to play.

He’d given her the smile, the one that had kept the woman of his choice by his side for as long as he could remember, whether at a bonfire after a high school football game or at a bar after a livestock show in Austin. Patricia-the-personnel-director, apparently, was immune.

That was a real shame. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been around a woman who was so...smooth. Smooth hair, smooth skin, a woman who handled everything and everyone smoothly. She spoke in a smooth, neutral voice, yet everyone ran to do her bidding as if she were a drill sergeant barking out threats. This Patricia was the real deal, a Texas beauty who looked like a princess but had a spine of steel.

It was a shame she wasn’t interested. He watched her walk away, headed for the chair she’d been in when he’d first hauled Zach in here. He liked the way she moved, brisk and businesslike.

Businesslike. He should have thought of that. She was clearly the boss in here. The boss couldn’t flirt in front of her staff. If they weren’t in her office space, would he be able to get her to smile?

Luke switched his helmet to his other hand and kept fanning Zach. Maybe it wasn’t that she wasn’t interested. She’d been a little flustered when they’d shaken hands, not knowing quite where to look. Maybe she wasn’t interested in being interested. That was a whole different ballgame.

She wore diamonds in her ears, discreet little studs, but none on her fingers. If she wasn’t married or engaged, why not give him a smile?

When he reached for Zach’s wrist to check his pulse, Zach shook him off. “I’ll live,” he said, managing to sound tired and pissed off at the same time.

Patricia picked up a clipboard and turned their way.

Luke ducked a bit closer to Zach and spoke under his breath. “Be a pal and lay still a while longer.”

Patricia returned to his side of the tent. She didn’t crack a smile, but she crouched beside him once more. Her arm brushed his, and she jerked a tiny bit, as if she’d touched something she shouldn’t. It was the smallest of breaks in an otherwise excellent poker face, but Luke was certain: she wasn’t totally immune to him.

He sure as hell wasn’t immune to her.

“You can stop fanning him,” she said. “Rest. I’ll take over. You need to cool down, too.”

Aw, yeah. Talk to me some more. Her voice fit her looks, sophisticated, assured. She had the faintest accent, enough to identify her as a Texan, but she was no cowgirl. She had the voice of a woman raised with Big Money, the kind of woman who’d gone to college and majored in art history, he’d bet.

She started fanning Zach with her clipboard, so Luke put his helmet down and studied her profile until she glanced at him. She had eyes as dark brown as her hair was pale blond. She didn’t drop her gaze this time. Luke was torn between admiring her self-control and wishing she’d act flustered once more.

She kept fanning Zach with her clipboard in one hand. With her other hand, she handed Luke another bottle of water. “Here, drink this. You’re as hot as he is.”

He nearly laughed at that. Maybe she wouldn’t flirt back with him in front of her staff, but he couldn’t resist such an easy opening. “Well, ma’am, I’d say thank you for the compliment, but only being as hot as Zach isn’t truly that flattering. He’s just your average-looking slacker, laying down on the job.”

Zach grunted, but didn’t bother opening his eyes. Zach had always been a good wing man.

Luke gestured toward him with the bottle of water. “That eloquent grunt means Zach agrees.”

Patricia looked away again, but not in a flustered way. Nope, now she just raised one brow in faint disgust and turned away, the princess not lowering herself to comment on the peasants’ looks.

Luke chuckled, enjoying this brush with a Texas beauty queen, even if it led nowhere. It was something else to be in the presence of royalty.

She pointed toward the unopened bottle in his hand, but before she could repeat her order, he raised his hand in surrender.

“I’m drinking. I’m drinking.” He had to stop chuckling in order to down the second bottle of water.

Princess Patricia stood abruptly, but she only stepped a foot away to grab a metal folding chair and then place it next to him. “Here, you’ll be more comfortable.”

Not quite royalty, then. Or at least, she was hard-working and considerate royalty.

“Thank you, ma’am.” Before rising, he clapped Zach on the shoulder. “How ’bout you sit up and drink some water now?”

“I’ll get another chair,” Patricia said.

Then it happened. She turned away for a chair. He turned away to extend his hand to Zach. He hauled his friend to his feet; she set a folding chair next to the first. They finished at the same second, turning back toward each other, and collided. He steadied her with two hands. Her elegant fingers grasped the edge of his red suspender for balance. The rubber edge of her boat shoe caught on the rubber of his fireman’s boot, tripping her, and she clung a little tighter. She was tall, but he was taller, and into the side of his neck she exhaled a single, awkward, warm and breathy “oh.”

In that moment, as he stood solidly on his own two feet and held Patricia in his hands, Luke knew that a slender, soft woman had just knocked all two hundred pounds of him flat on his back.

She looked away, then down on the ground, flustered again. The diamond stud in her delicate ear lobe grazed his chin. She let go of his suspender and pushed back a half step, turning to collect her clipboard off the chair she’d placed for him. “Stay as long as you need to,” she said without making eye contact. “I’ll let the fire chief know where you are.”

She left, pushing the tent flap out of her way as impatiently as Luke had when he’d been coming in.

Luke sat heavily where her clipboard had been, frowning as Zach guzzled his water next to him. Patricia had felt every bit of electricity he had, he’d bet the ranch on it. He’d never had a woman who was so attracted to him be so eager to get away from him. There had to be a reason, but damn if he could guess what it might be.

Zach finished his water and started a second bottle. Halfway through, he stopped for a breath. He jerked his head toward the door flap. “Give it up now, rookie. You aren’t getting a piece of that action. Ever.”

“Not here,” Luke silenced him tersely. There were too many people listening to the firemen who’d landed themselves in the middle of a bunch of paper pushers. Luke sat back against the cold metal of the chair and crossed his arms over his chest.

So, Patricia didn’t want to flirt. He could understand that on one level, but he felt instinctively that it went beyond being on duty or in charge. She’d hightailed it out of there, if such an elegant woman could be said to move so hastily, yet they’d just experienced chemistry with a capital C. Chemistry that couldn’t be denied. Chemistry that Luke wanted to explore.

“You ready?” he asked Zach. Without waiting for Zach’s grunt of agreement, Luke stood, then started picking up coats, gloves, and his helmet. As the men headed toward the exit, they passed Patricia’s table. Luke dropped one glove, kicking it mid-stride to land precisely under a chair. Her chair.

Zach noticed. “You gonna get that now or later?”

“Neither,” Luke said under his breath. When they reached the door, he bent to scoop up Zach’s helmet. They stepped outside, into the blinding Texas sun.

Luke handed Zach his coat and helmet. “I’m gonna let her bring that glove to me when she’s ready.”

“You never leave your equipment behind, rookie.”

“True enough.” Luke wasn’t going to argue that point. He was a rookie for the fire department, but he was a twenty-eight-year-old man who’d been running a cattle ranch for seven years. No cowboy worked without gloves, so he’d known to bring more than one pair. He could leave that one for Patricia to find. To find, and to decide what to do with.

Zach smacked dirt and grit off the polished black surface of his helmet. “For future reference, rookie, throwing a helmet on asphalt scratches it all to hell.”

“Battle scars, Zach. We’ve all got ’em.”

Luke didn’t mind his engine’s tradition of calling the newest member “rookie” for the first few months of service, but Zach was laying it on a bit thick, considering they’d gone to school together. They’d played football, suffered through reading Melville and handfed goats in 4-H together.

Zach shook his head. “You may have a way with the fillies on your ranch, but that woman isn’t a skittish horse. She runs this whole place, whether it’s official or not. I worked with her last summer after those twisters in Oklahoma. If you think she just needs patience and a soft touch and then she’ll follow you around like a pet, you’re wrong.”

“We’ll see.” Both men started walking toward their fire engine, taking wide strides out of necessity in their bulky turnout pants and rubber boots.

“You’re too cocky, Waterson. Go ahead and ignore my advice. It’ll be good for you when she shuts you down before you even make it to first base.”

“First base? A kiss? High school was a long time ago, Zach.”

“You won’t get that much, I promise you. You aren’t her type.”

Luke remembered that moment of impact. Chemistry with a capital C, all right. He smiled.

Zach shook his head. “I know that smile. Tell you what. You manage to kiss that woman, and I won’t make you repaint my helmet.”

Luke’s smile dimmed. On the surface, Zach’s casual dare seemed harmless enough. They’d been through plenty of dares before. You buy the beer if I can sweet talk that waitress onto the dance floor while she’s still on the clock. But this was different. Somehow.

“You’re forgetting two things,” Luke said. “One, my mama raised me better than to kiss a girl for a dare. Two, my daddy raised me that if I broke it, I had to fix it. I’ll paint your damned helmet when we get back to Austin.”

“Two more things,” Zach said, laying a heavy hand on Luke’s shoulder. “One, thanks for getting me out of the sun when I was too dazed to do it myself. Forget about the helmet. I owe you more than that.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Zach let go of his shoulder after a hard squeeze. “And two, that was my glove you left behind, Romeo. If your filly shies away from you, you’re gonna have to go back and get it. Today.”

Chapter Three

Darkness came, and Luke was glad that a strong breeze from the ocean came with it. Cutting vehicles loose from downed trees had been grueling in the motionless air the storm had left behind. When the order came to stand down, Luke was glad for that, too. He considered himself to be in good shape, working on the ranch day in and day out, but wielding an ax for hour after hour had been back-breaking, plain and simple.

The one thing he would have been most glad of, however, never came. Patricia never appeared, not in a flustered way, not in a collected way, not in any way. Whatever the beautiful personnel director was up to, she wasn’t up to it in his part of the relief center. But since impatient Zach wanted his damned glove back, Luke was going to have to go and get it.

Determined to make the best of it, Luke had hit the portable showers when the fire crew had their allotted time. He’d dug a clean T-shirt out of his gym bag and run a comb through his hair while it was still damp. Shaving was conveniently required of the firemen, since beards could interfere with the way a respirator mask sealed to the face. He’d been able to shave without drawing any attention to himself.

All he had to do was tell the guys to head off for chow without him, and then he could take a convenient detour that would lead him past Patricia’s tent on his way to supper in the mess tent. He’d listen for her voice, and if she was in, he’d go in to retrieve his glove. Damn, but he was looking forward to seeing her again.

He was so intent on reaching her tent that he nearly missed her voice when he heard it in a place he hadn’t expected. He stopped short outside the door marked “pharmacy,” a proper door with a lock, set into a wooden frame that was sealed to an inflatable tent, similar to the kind he knew were used for surgeries and such.

“The rules exist for a reason.” Smooth but unyielding, that was Patricia’s voice.

“I thought we were here to help these people,” another female voice answered, but this voice sounded more shrill and impatient. “These people have lost their houses. They’ve lost everything. If I can give them some free medicine, why shouldn’t I? When I went to Haiti, we gave everyone months’ worth of the drugs they needed.”

There was a beat of silence, then Patricia’s tone changed subtly to one of almost motherly concern. “It might help if you keep in mind that this isn’t Haiti. Half of the homes in this town were vacant vacation homes, second homes for people who can well afford their own medicine. You don’t need to give them a month’s worth, just a few days until the town’s regular pharmacies re-open.”

“Then I don’t see what the big deal is.” The other woman, in response to Patricia’s gentle concern, sounded like a pouting teenager. “Nitroglycerin is cheap, anyway.”

“It’s not the cost, it’s the scarcity. I had to send someone almost all the way to Victoria to get more. He was gone for nearly four hours. He used gallons of gasoline that can’t be replaced because the pumps aren’t running yet because the electricity isn’t running yet.”

Luke nearly grinned when he heard that steel slip back into Patricia’s voice. He crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head back to look up at the stars. She was right about the electricity being out, of course. When an entire town’s streetlights were doused, the stars became brilliant. When all traffic stopped, the crash of the ocean surf could be heard blocks away.

It should be easy to set the right mood to explore a little physical chemistry, and he realized now he’d been hoping to find Patricia—and Zach’s glove—alone. It would have been better if he could have waited until she’d had the time and the desire, or at least the curiosity, to come and find him. But since he needed to get that glove, he’d half hoped she’d be happy to see him walk back into her tent tonight. He’d forgotten something important: Patricia was still working. Still working and still the boss.

He should get to the mess tent. He could stop by the admin tent an hour from now, or three, and he knew she’d be there, working. There was no need to wait for her right now.

Yet he lingered, and listened, and admired the way she stayed cool, alternating between logical and sympathetic until the other woman was apologizing for the trouble she hadn’t realized she’d caused, and Patricia was granting her a second—or what sounded more like a third—opportunity to prove she could be part of the Texas Rescue team.

The door opened and Patricia stepped out. As she turned back to listen to the other person, the generator-powered lights inside the tent illuminated Patricia’s flawless face, her cheekbones and elegant neck exposed with her pale hair still twisted up in that smooth style.

“The regular pharmacies will re-open, don’t forget. This isn’t Haiti. The buildings are damaged, but they didn’t disappear into a pile of rubble. If they had, I promise you, we’d be working under a different policy entirely.”

Luke hadn’t thought of Patricia as a high-strung filly, and damn Zach for putting the thought into his head, but now he could imagine a similarity. Patricia was no ranch workhorse, though. Once, after a livestock show in Dallas, Luke had been invited by a trainer to spend time in the Grand Prairie racetrack stables. He’d found the Thoroughbreds to be suspicious and nervous around strangers, requiring a lot of careful handling. But once they were brought out to the track, once that starting gate sprang open and they raced down their lanes, doing what they were born to do, those Thoroughbreds had been a sight to behold. Unforgettable.

He’d just listened to Patricia doing what she was born to do. She kept people at their jobs, working hard in hard conditions, serving a community. Whether it required her to revive a pair of unexpected firemen or turn around a pharmacy tech’s attitude, that’s what Patricia did to make her hospital run, and she did it well.

The unseen pharmacy girl was still apologizing. In the glow of the lights, Luke watched Patricia smile benevolently. “There’s no need to apologize further. I’m sure you’ll have no problems at all complying with the policy tomorrow, and I look forward to having you here on the team for the rest of the week. Good night.”

Patricia shut the door with a firm click. With his eyes already adjusted to the dark, Luke watched her polite, pleasant expression fade away, replaced by a frown and a shake of her head. She was angry. Perhaps disgusted with a worker who’d taken so much of her time. Without a glance at the brilliant stars, she headed down the row of tents toward her office space.

After a moment, Luke followed. He told himself he wasn’t spying on her. He had to pass her tent to get to the mess tent, anyway. But when she stopped, he stopped.

She didn’t go into her tent. She clutched her clipboard to her chest with one arm, looking for a moment like an insecure schoolgirl. Then she headed away from the tent complex, into the dark.

Luke followed, keeping his distance. When she stopped at a picnic table near a cluster of palm trees in the rear of the town hospital building, he hesitated. She obviously wanted to be alone. She sat on the bench, crossed her arms on the table, then rested her head on them.

The woman was not angry or disgusted. She was tired. Luke felt foolish for not realizing it sooner.

While she apparently caught a cat nap, he stood silently a short distance away. He didn’t want to wake her. He’d look like an idiot for having followed her away from the tents. On the other hand, he couldn’t leave her here, asleep and unprotected. Except for the starlight, it was pitch black. There’d been no looting in the storm-damaged town, but there were packs of displaced dogs forming among the wrecked homes, and—

Hell. He didn’t need wandering pets for an excuse. He wasn’t going to leave Patricia out here alone. Period.

He cleared his throat as he walked up behind her, not wanting to startle her, but she was dead to the world. He sat down beside her. She was sitting properly, knees together, facing the table like she’d fallen asleep saying grace over her dinner plate. He sat facing the opposite way, leaning back against the table and stretching his legs out. The wooden bench gave a little under his weight, disturbing her.

“Good evening, Miss Patricia.”

That startled her awake the rest of the way. Her head snapped up, and she blinked and glanced around, looking adorably disoriented for a woman who carried a clipboard everywhere she went. When she recognized him, her eyes opened wide.

“Oh.”

“It’s me. Luke Waterson. The firefighter who barged in on you today.”

“Yes, I remember you.” She looked at the watch on her wrist and frowned.

Luke figured she couldn’t read it in the faint light. “You’ve only been out a minute or two.”

She hit a button on her watch and it lit up. Of course. He should have known she’d be prepared. She touched her hair, using her fingertips to smooth one wayward strand back into place. She touched the corner of each eye with her pinky finger, then put both hands in her lap and took a deep breath. “Okay, I’m awake. Did you need something?”

This was what her life was like, he realized. Everyone came to her when they needed something. She didn’t expect Luke to be there for any other reason. Did no one seek her out just to talk during a work shift? To play a game of cards in the shade when they were off duty? To share a meal?

He didn’t feel like smiling at the moment, but he did, anyway. She’d asked if he needed anything. “Nope. Nothing.”

She tilted her head and looked at him, those eyes that had opened so wide now narrowing skeptically. “Then what are you doing here?”