Spring Texas Bride (The Brides 0f Bliss Tx. Book 1) Read online

  “Are you okay?” he asked.

  Her gaze settled on his mouth, then quickly skittered away. “I’m fine. Just fine. How are you feeling?”

  “Much better.” He paused. “Thank you for staying and keeping an eye on me.”

  The color in her cheeks deepened. “You’re welcome.”

  They should both get going—Waylon to the office and Spring to change her clothes. But after Ms. Marble’s lecture, he decided a few more minutes wouldn’t hurt anything. He owned Spring more than just a thank you. He pulled out a chair at the table. “Sit down and I’ll get you a cup of coffee. I don’t have that fancy creamer you like, but I’ve got milk and plenty of sugar.”

  She hesitated as if she were afraid to move closer to him. And he figured she had a right to be. He’d been a snarling bear yesterday. “Look, I’m sorry about being so grumpy yesterday. I guess I’m not a good patient.”

  Her gaze returned to his mouth. “You weren’t that bad.” She shook her head as if to clear it and glanced at the table. “I see Ms. Marble brought muffins.”

  He wiped at his mouth, wondering if he had toothpaste on the corners. “Along with plenty of advice.” He walked to the cupboard and got down a cup. “She thinks I need to . . . lighten up.”

  Spring laughed. “Leave it to Ms. Marble to hit the nail on the head.”

  He frowned as he poured coffee in the cup. “I’m the sheriff. Sheriffs aren’t supposed to be cuddly teddy bears.”

  “No, but a few smiles wouldn’t hurt anything. Nor would a few days off. When was the last time you took a full day off?”

  “I have Sundays off.” He added sugar, then walked to the refrigerator for the milk.

  “Don’t act like you have Sundays off. Jonas told me you still stop by the office and take calls. That’s not a day off. I’m talking about letting Tucker and Jonas handle things for an entire day while you do whatever it is you like to do.”

  He poured some milk into the coffee and then carried the cup to the table. “Tucker is still too new and I should probably fire Jonas. But he’d be lost without his job.”

  “The poor man is still grieving for his wife. When he stops by to check on me at night, she’s all he can talk about.” She took the cup of coffee.

  He sat down. “He comes out to check on you?”

  “Like Mrs. Miller, I think he just wants to talk. And I don’t mind the company.” She took a sip of coffee. “This is a nice change. I’m usually making you coffee.”

  “Ms. Mable made this.” He took a sip. “Coffee making isn’t my strong suit.”

  “But you’re good at more important things.” She took a muffin off the plate. “I’m good at unimportant things—like making coffee.”

  “Believe me, coffee’s important. And you’re good at other things. You’ve been a big help to me the last couple weeks.”

  She glanced up from peeling the wrapper off the muffin. Her big blue eyes held surprise. “Is that a compliment? Or are you still high on NyQuil?” Her gaze traveled down to his mouth, and her cheeks blushed a bright pink.

  He set down his cup. “What’s going on?”

  Her eyes flashed up. “W-w-what do you mean?”

  “You aren’t a blusher, and yet, all you’ve done this morning is blush.” He paused as a thought struck him. “Did something happen last night? Did I . . .” He rubbed his jaw where the pillow creases had been. Pillow creases that looked suspiciously like fingerprints. “Did I try something?”

  Spring’s blush grew even darker, and she looked away. “It was nothing really. You drank too much cold medicine and got a little loopy.” She set the muffin back down on the plate without taking a bite. “I better go. I need to change clothes and I don’t want to be late for work.” She started to get up, but he caught her wrist and stopped her.

  “What happened? Did I do something I need to apologize for? Is that why you slapped me?”

  She stared at his hand and refused to meet his gaze. “No. I was worried because you weren’t responding to me so I slapped you to try and wake you up.”

  “Then why all the blushes?”

  She visibly swallowed. “Because after I woke you up, you sorta . . . kissed me. But it really wasn’t a big deal. It was just a kiss.” She got up so quickly she tipped over her chair. Waylon caught it before it hit the floor. She grabbed her purse from the hook by the door and pulled her keys out of the side pocket. “I’ll see you at the office.” She dropped the keys, then quickly picked them up and dashed out the door as if her tail was on fire.

  Waylon sat back in his chair. He’d kissed Spring? He shouldn’t be surprised. She had the kind of lips that begged a man to kiss them. Being drugged and out of his head with fever, it made sense that he would try to take a taste. But it wasn’t the kiss that bothered him as much as her reaction to it. Spring might say it wasn’t a big deal, but if that were the case, then why was she so flustered? There seemed to be only one answer.

  She’d liked his kiss.

  Which wasn’t a good thing. Having an assistant who had a crush on you would make for uncomfortable working conditions.

  And yet, Waylon couldn’t stop the satisfied smile that spread across his face.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Spring was going to have to quit her job. She couldn’t concentrate on work when all she could think about was Waylon’s kiss. She couldn’t be in the same room with the man without staring at his mouth. And the worst part about it was he knew how much she’d enjoyed his kiss. There was a gleam of male arrogance in his eyes every time he caught her staring, and he hadn’t gotten after her once for being distracted and messing up phone messages or reports. She should’ve never told him about the kiss. Obviously, he’d been completely out of it and didn’t remember it. But even if she hadn’t told him, she’d still have the same problem.

  She wanted a repeat. She wanted it in a bad way. She wanted Waylon to slide his fingers through her hair, to use his thumbs to tip up her chin, to cover her mouth with his wet heat and take a deep, satisfying sip that left her—

  “Miss Hadley?”

  She glanced up to see Waylon standing in front of her desk. Besides a few sniffles, he had recovered from his illness and was back to being the perfect sheriff. His hair was combed, his strong jaw clean-shaven, and his shirt starched. Although he had taken to rolling back the cuffs of the shirt and showing off his great forearm muscles and the black watch on one wrist. Who knew a timepiece could look so sexy?

  He cleared his throat, and she pulled her gaze away from his watch to his twinkling green eyes. “I’ve been repeatedly calling your name, Miss Hadley. Do you have a hearing problem?”

  She had a lust problem, but she couldn’t exactly say that. “No, sir. I guess I was just daydreaming.”

  A wink of a smile flashed before it disappeared. “About anything in particular?”

  She tried to come up with something that might take the annoying twinkle from his eyes. “I was just thinking about the spring dance. Tucker wants me to make sure I save him a dance.”

  The twinkle left his eyes, and one eyebrow lifted.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked. “Don’t you like to dance?”

  “I like to dance just fine.”

  “So you’re going to the dance?”

  “I always go. I have to keep an eye on things.” He squinted. “Tucker? Isn’t he a little young for you?”

  Tucker was too young for her. He was like an overeager Labrador puppy she was trying to hold back so he wouldn’t lick her in the face. Waylon, on the other hand, could lick her anywhere he wanted. She shook her head to get rid of the image and started organizing her messy desk.

  “I’m not that old.”

  “Tucker is twenty-three.”

  “And I’m only twenty-eight. That’s not that big of an age difference. The age difference between us is larger.” She could’ve kicked herself. Now he knew she’d been thinking about their age difference.

  His forehead wrinkled, and he ope
ned his mouth to say something, but then closed it again. He pulled on his cowboy hat. “I’m going to be out of the office for a couple hours. I should be back around five.” He turned and walked out.

  Once he was gone, Spring wilted back in her chair. She really needed to get a grip and quit acting like an idiot. So Waylon had kissed her. So what? She had been kissed by lots of boys. High school boys. College boys. Band boys. And maybe that was the difference. Waylon didn’t kiss like a boy. He kissed like a man. A man who knew exactly what he wanted.

  He’d wanted her.

  A light bulb turned on in her head. She had been so worried about hiding her reaction to the kiss that she hadn’t given much thought to why Waylon had kissed her in the first place. He’d been drugged and feverish, but not so drugged and feverish that he didn’t know who she was. He’d said her name. He’d also said that she scared him. Why would she scare him . . . unless he was struggling with his sexual attraction to her as much as she was struggling with hers to him?

  The thought made her feel less like an idiot. It also made her wonder how long they could avoid boinking on Waylon’s desk. Just the thought of him bending her over his desk made her heart accelerate and her body flood with heat. She could only hope that Gail came back soon. Having sex with her boss would be an even bigger mistake than forgetting to lock up Seasons.

  The phone rang, and she spent the next hour chatting with Mrs. Miller about how well her first day as a nanny for the triplets had gone. Halfway through the conversation, her head started to ache. By the time she hung up, she had a splitting headache. She took a couple of ibuprofen, but they didn’t seem to help. When the chills started, she realized she’d gotten more from Waylon’s kiss than a bad case of desire.

  “Are you okay?” Jonas asked when he arrived for his evening shift. He placed a big box on the floor by her desk. “You don’t look so good.”

  She shivered and pulled the keys from the top drawer. “I think I’m coming down with the flu. Do you think you could keep an eye on things until Waylon gets back?”

  “Sure. But maybe I better drive you home?”

  “No, thank you. I’ll be fine once I get some rest.” She got up. “What’s in the box?”

  Jonas’s eyes turned sad. “Some of Meg’s sweaters and costume jewelry that I thought you might like.” He paused. “I’ve decided it’s time to clean out her closet, and I know she would’ve loved a pretty young woman like you getting use out of her things.”

  It was a big step for him, and Spring knew it. If she hadn’t been sick, she would’ve given him a big hug. “Thank you, Jonas. I’ll treasure them.”

  He nodded and picked up the box. “I’ll put it in your car.”

  Her chills were even worse by the time she got back to her trailer. All she wanted to do was wrap up in her fluffy down comforter and sleep. But when she stepped into her trailer, there was already someone sprawled out in her small bed.

  “Hey, Spring-a-ling.” Her father flashed a smile, then toasted her with the can of beer in his hand. “You surprised to see your old man?”

  She was surprised. And a little annoyed. She’d called him numerous times, and he hadn’t called her back once. Then he just shows up at her trailer without a word? She set the box Jonas had given her on the floor by the door, then put her purse and keys on the kitchenette counter. “How did you get in? And where’s your car?”

  “You know that I’ve always had a way with locks. And I parked around back.” He took a deep drag of the cigarette in his other hand and blew smoke directly at her. She coughed and fanned the smoke away. She should’ve said something about him smoking in her trailer, but she didn’t. Mainly because she didn’t have the strength. She barely had the strength to flop down on the bench seat of the table.

  “You should’ve called first,” she said as she rubbed her aching temples. “It won’t be pretty when Dirk finds out you’re here.”

  “I guess that boy is still holding a grudge against his dear old daddy.”

  She lifted her head and stared at him. “You tried to take Gracie and Cole’s ranch, Daddy. Anyone would hold a grudge about that.”

  “Those Arringtons have plenty of money to spare. One little ol’ ranch wasn’t going to make a difference one way or the other. Besides, I didn’t come to see Dirk. I came to go camping with my favorite girl.”

  She should have been thrilled. It was what she wanted. She wanted to prove to her family that he’d changed. But as she studied her father through the haze of cigarette smoke, her vision cleared. Maybe it was the fever, or maybe Granny Bon was right. Maybe Spring needed time away from her sisters to grow up and stop viewing the world through rose-colored glasses. Whatever it was, she suddenly realized that Holt hadn’t changed at all.

  He had no regret over trying to take Cole’s ranch. He didn’t think there was anything wrong with breaking into a person’s home. And he thought it was just fine and dandy to not answer her calls, and then show up out of the blue. It was exactly what he had done all Spring’s life. She and her family wouldn’t hear a word from him for months, and then there he’d be at the door with a big smile and gifts that he thought would make up for the time he’d been away. Spring had always been so thrilled with those gifts. She’d treasured them long after he’d left. But now she realized those cheap toys and knickknacks could never replace a father.

  And neither would one camping trip.

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t go camping with you, Daddy,” she said.

  Holt sat up. “Is this because I didn’t call you back? I had an emergency come up that I couldn’t ignore, Spring-a-ling.”

  She’d always hated her father’s nickname for her. It sounded too much like ding-a-ling. Of course, she had been a ding-a-ling to believe that Holt had turned over a new leaf. If she were Summer, she’d give him hell for showing up unannounced and expecting her to drop everything and go camping with him. But if she were Summer, she never would’ve gone to see Holt in the first place and been suckered into buying a trailer. But she wasn’t Summer, and she couldn’t bring herself to be mean to him. Regardless of all his faults, he was her father.

  “You should’ve called me back,” she said. “If you had, I would’ve told you that I just got a job and can’t leave without giving notice.”

  “Sure you can. I do it all the time.” He finished off his beer. “Now let’s hitch the trailer up to your car and get out of here. I thought we’d stop by to see a friend of mine before we head to Mexico to do a little fishin’.” When she didn’t move, he squinted through the smoke at her. “Hey, you don’t look so good. Did you forget to put on makeup today? Women should always wear makeup. Without it, they look like warmed over death.”

  “I have makeup on, Daddy. I just don’t feel well.”

  “You must’ve gotten that weak constitution from your mother. We Hadleys don’t get sick.” He stood. “Now let’s get a move on.”

  She got annoyed at his insistence. “I’m not getting a move—”

  A car door slammed, cutting her off.

  Holt immediately ducked and peeked out the window. “Shit.” He shoved his cigarette in the opening of the beer can and waved away the smoke. “You don’t want to cause a family ruckus, do you, Spring-a-ling? And if that sheriff coming to your door should tell Dirk I’m here, we both know the kind of ruckus that would cause. So it might be best if you didn’t mention that your dear ol’ daddy came for a visit.” He disappeared inside the bathroom.

  Spring stared at the bathroom door. Part of her wanted to jerk it open and tell him to get the hell out of her trailer. But the other part knew he was right. If Dirk found out he was there, there would be a ruckus. Not only would Dirk probably go to jail for beating his father senseless, but also Spring didn’t want her family knowing how easily she’d been suckered by Holt. So when she answered the knock on the door, she pinned on a big smile and tried to act like her father wasn’t hiding in the bathroom and everything was just fine.

  Waylon didn�
�t fall for it. As soon as he saw her, his eyes grew concerned. “I gave you the flu.”

  She shivered as a chill ran through her. “Forgive me if I don’t thank you for that gift.” She was about to say she needed to get to bed when he stepped up into the trailer and felt her forehead.

  “You’re burning up.” He scooted around her and pulled a blanket off the bed and wrapped it around her shoulders. “Sit down before you fall down.” Once she was seated, he sniffed the air. “Have you been smoking?”

  She kept her eyes from the bathroom door. “Uhh . . . yeah. I used to smoke, and sometimes a nicotine hit makes me feel better.”

  He turned to the cupboards and started searching through them. “Nicotine isn’t going to make you feel better this time. You need something for the fever, aches, and pains. Do you have any cold medicine?”

  “No, but I took some ibuprofen.”

  He closed the cupboards and turned to her. “That won’t work. You need something for all the symptoms. And you’ll need plenty of fluids and rest. In fact, why don’t I take you to Dirk and Gracie’s? You’ll be much more comfortable there, and you shouldn’t be alone.”

  She shook her head. “I can’t give this to the triplets. Three sick babies are the last thing Dirk and Gracie need. I’ll be fine here.” About then, her teeth started to chatter.

  “You’re not fine,” he said. “Believe me, I know.” He picked up her purse and hooked it over his shoulder before scooping her into his arms.

  “What are you doing?” she asked as he moved to the door. “I told you I can’t go to Dirk’s.”

  “I’m not taking you to Dirk’s.” He fumbled with the door handle. “I’m taking you home . . . if I can figure out how to open this damn door.”

  “I can’t go home with you.”

  He stopped trying to open the door and looked at her. “It’s either that or I stay here and take care of you.”

  She couldn’t let him do that. He’d find her father. Besides, if she left with Waylon, hopefully, Holt would give up on the camping idea and leave.