“Absolutely!” She smiled in delight.
He turned away from the depths of her pale green eyes, too much like the lure of a cool, clear pool on a hot summer day. Talk about distraction.
He stomped over to the fence. He held the barbwire down with his boot so she could cross with less trouble. The last thing he wanted was for her to get an injury. He watched as she stepped over the fence with long legs. Leggy trouble. He followed the sway of her narrow hips as she walked away. Bigger trouble. The situation was shaping up to leave him tossing and turning at night on his too-empty king-size bed. But there was always a price to pay for the good things in life.
He held the three towels with one hand while he stepped over the barbwire. He kicked the fence post back in line with his boot so the wire didn’t sag as much. Not perfect, but good enough to hold till he had a chance to fix it right. He had other fence to repair today, too, but nothing critical. It’d all still be there tomorrow. For now, he wanted to know a little more about the stranger with the perfect timing. And he never minded time spent in the company of an interesting woman.
While Misty walked back to her SUV, he checked the highway for his shirt. Sure enough, it was still where he’d dropped it. He grabbed the mess of torn, burned, smelly fabric. Shame, too. He’d had the shirt long enough that it was broken in just right. That meant soft with no holes, faded color, or style that made gals cringe. Not easy to meet the challenge, but the shirt had done it. Maybe he ought to bury it back home and put up an “RIP Good Shirt” sign.
“What are you going to do about your shirt?” Misty walked over with a black garbage bag in her hand.
“It’s a favorite.”
“I understand. But—” She snapped open the bag.
He took her meaning. “Guess I’d better say good-bye.” With a dramatic sigh, he dropped the shirt and towels into the trash bag. Misty rolled her eyes, but Trey noticed she was also fighting an amused smile. The smile tickled him in a way he couldn’t put his finger on, and that made him a little uneasy.
As he walked with her back to the SUV, he scanned the area. He didn’t see anything out of the ordinary. No smoke on the horizon. No loose cattle out of pastures. No sounds indicating trouble. A hawk’s dark shadow passed over the highway. Trey glanced up. The raptor lazily circled in the big blue sky overhead, trolling for supper while rodents no doubt scurried for cover on the wide expanse of the golden prairie below.
He relaxed a bit, feeling hunger, thirst, and tiredness creep up on him. No surprise after all the activity. For now, all was as it should be in his world, so life was good.
Back at the SUV, Misty opened a door, leaned in, and tossed the garbage onto a floorboard.
He watched, not even attempting to be a gentleman. She wasn’t nearly as pristine as he’d thought, because she was running him a close second in the sweaty, dirty department. He wondered if, underneath her pretty blue capris, she wore nothing but a bit of lace and silk. Snow white, if he didn’t miss his guess, although he’d like to find out for sure. White suited his Christmas angel.
He heard the sound of ice clinking in the cooler before she stood up and turned around. She held three bottles with water dripping down their sides. Looked like heaven to him. She set a bottle on the ground before she held one out to him. He wrapped his hand around her cold, wet fingers. A hot spark arced between them. Her green eyes widened in surprise.
She jerked her hand away, unscrewed the cap off her own bottle, tilted it up to her lips, and took a long drink of water.
He wrenched the top off his own bottle and slugged back half the liquid, spilling water down his chin to his bare chest. He had to cool off before he said or did something he’d regret later. He poured the last of the water over his head to wash away some of the sweat, the stink of the fire, and the heat she’d built in him.
“Need more water?” She picked up the other full bottle and tossed it to him.
What he wanted was a taste of her. He grinned as he dropped the empty and caught the new bottle. “Thank you. Nothing better than cold water after a hot fire.” He cracked the top on the bottle, took a long swig, and chuckled under his breath. “Well, almost nothing.”
He could still hardly believe his good luck. First, he’d gotten to the fire in time to put it out without much damage. Then, help had come in the form of his own personal Christmas angel. Blond-haired. Green-eyed. Red-lipped. Misty would make the perfect stocking stuffer.