Heart Of A Texan

“What did you need?”

“Nothin’.”

“You called for Marie for a reason.”

“It’s not in your job description.”

She glanced at the shirt on the chair. “You need help getting your shirt on?”

There was no sense denying it. “Yes. But—”

“Heavens, if you need help with it, I can do it.” She sounded slightly annoyed, as if she were scolding a child. She stepped farther into the room, picking up his shirt as she approached, keeping her eyes level with his. No more sneak peeks at his chest.

“Here you go.” She held out one arm of the shirt. “We’ll take it slow.” Her angelic voice, soft and accommodating, came back. If only he could close his eyes and listen to her all day long.

She smelled like cookies, a sugary vanilla scent teasing his nostrils. And then he gazed at her mouth, heart-shaped and rosy-lipped. She’d given him rescue breaths with that mouth. Oh, man.

She guided his right arm into the sleeve first and scooted it up his arm as he ever so slowly pushed his arm through. “Now comes the hard part,” he said.

She wound the shirt around his back and he had to stretch his left arm way out to push it through the sleeve. By the time they were through, beads of sweat trickled down his forehead.

“Maybe a T-shirt would be easier,” she said, tilting her head, analyzing the situation.

“That would be a no. I tried that already.”

“Are you okay?” Her green eyes held sympathy.

“I’m fine. Thank you.” He sniffed the air. “Besides you, something smells wonderful out there.”

“Besides me?”

He grinned. “Sorry, thinking out loud. You smell like a cookie.”

An angel with a tranquil voice who smelled like cookies...good thing he had his head on straight about Bella Reid. She was a no-go. He was gun-shy anyway. He’d had his heart ripped out by Helene and some wounds just refused to heal.

“Thank you, I think,” she said, standing in front of him now, keeping her eyes on the snaps she was fastening on his shirt. She stood a few inches from him and as soon as she was through took a big step back. “The drawbacks of a being around food all the time. But smelling like vanilla is much better than smelling like garlic. Or, God forbid, liver.”

He smiled. “So true.”

He was glad she’d moved away. He was injured but he wasn’t dead. If anyone could bring a man back from the dark depths, it was Bella Reid. She’d done that literally for him once already. He wasn’t going to push his luck.

“So what is that delicious smell?” he asked.

“I made apple crostata this morning.”

“Already?” He had no idea what an apple crostata was, but it sure sounded good.

She nodded. “I’ve got it cooking in the oven for breakfast or a midmorning snack. I bake while Sienna is sleeping. I hope I didn’t wake you.”

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