McKettricks of Texas: Austin. Linda Miller LaelЧитать онлайн книгу.
She laughed.
He’d forgotten what the sound of Paige Remington’s laughter did to him, how it made him feel dizzy inside, as though he’d been blindfolded, turned around half a dozen times and then had the floor yanked out from under him.
Paige’s expression sobered, though the ghost of a grin flicked at one corner of her mouth and danced like a faint flame in her eyes. “What I meant,” she informed him, “when I said some things never change, was that you’re still too cussed and proud to let on when you need help.”
“I don’t need help,” Austin reasoned, wondering why it was so important to him to make that absolutely clear.
Shep broke loose with a good shaking then, flinging moisture over both of them.
“I’m not going to argue with you, Austin McKettrick,” Paige said.
He snorted at the irony of that statement.
“Something is wrong,” she said, ignoring his reaction. She headed back into the kitchen, and Shep followed at a sprightly pace, toenails clicking on the plank floor. “If you won’t tell me what it is, I can find out from Garrett or Tate.”
Austin waited until he was sure he could walk without any obvious hitches before stepping away from the counter. Paige was standing at the kitchen sink, washing her hands.
She wouldn’t look at him.
“Paige.”
Still, she kept her eyes averted, and he knew from the stubborn angle of her chin that she wasn’t going to let this go. She meant to ask one or both of his brothers what was going on with him, and they’d tell her, putting their own spin on the story.
Dammit, it was his story to tell and, besides, he didn’t want any secondhand versions making the rounds. “My back goes out sometimes,” he said very quietly. “That’s all.”
Paige turned to face him. “‘That’s all’? Why didn’t you say that a few minutes ago, when I asked you to lift Shep into the sink?”
Austin tugged at an imaginary hat brim and answered, “Because I’m Texas born and bred, ma’am, and therefore averse to letting a lady do my lifting.”
She just stood there for several long moments, looking at him as if she were doing arithmetic in her head and none of the sums were coming out right.
Finally, she spoke.
“You idiot,” she said with some affection.
Austin opened his mouth, closed it again, entirely at a loss.
She’d just insulted him, hadn’t she? And yet her tone...well, it made him feel all wrapped up in something warm.
Paige, oblivious to the strange effect she was having on him, checked her watch. “I’ve got to pick Calvin up,” she said, addressing no one in particular. “Want to come along for the ride?”
Did he ever.
She’s offering to let you ride in her car, fool. That’s all.
He shoved a hand through his hair. Did she really want his company, he wondered, or was she just afraid to leave the invalid cowboy alone in the house?
Hard to tell, and when it came right down to it, he didn’t care.
“Sure,” he said. “I guess.”
Paige rolled her marvelous eyes. “Well, that was ambivalent,” she replied. “Just let me change out of this wet T-shirt, and we’ll go.”
“Do you have to?”
Her gaze narrowed and her hands went back to her hips, but she was trying too hard not to grin to be angry. “Have to what?”
Austin waggled his eyebrows. “Change out of the wet T-shirt?”
She widened her eyes at him, then turned and hurried off in the direction of the guest apartment.
It was all he could do not to tag along with her.
His mouth quirked. It wasn’t as if she’d let him watch her change her shirt.
Damn the luck.
* * *
EVERY NERVE IN HER body was on red alert, and her heart seemed to skip every other beat.
It was her own fault.
What had she been thinking, asking Austin, of all people, if he’d like to ride to town with her?
Now here he was, big as life and busting with testosterone, sitting in her perfectly ordinary subcompact car, sliding the passenger seat back as far as it would go. Shep, still damp from his bath and smelling pleasantly of freshly shampooed dog, sat directly behind him.
Austin was taking up more than his fair share of room, she knew that much. If she weren’t careful, their shoulders would touch.
All business, Paige took her sunglasses from the holder above her rearview mirror and put them on. Then she fastened her seat belt, shifted into Reverse and almost backed into the garage door.
Austin chuckled, reached up to push the button on the remote clasped to one of the visors.
The garage door rolled up behind them.
“I would have remembered,” Paige said.
“Of course you would have,” Austin agreed lightly.
Paige knew if she looked at him, she’d catch him grinning. Her cheeks ached with heat, and she was grateful for her sunglasses.
“I suppose you think you should drive,” she huffed, taking great care as she backed out into the driveway.
Austin spread his hands. “Did I say that?” he asked.
Paige sighed. “No.”
She managed to drive out of the garage without crashing into anything and pointed the car toward the massive iron gates standing open at the bottom of the driveway.
“Why are you so rattled?” Austin wanted to know.
Paige braked for the turn onto the main road. The coast was clear in both directions, but she came to a crawling stop anyhow.
“I am not rattled.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I am not.” She paused, sucked in a righteous breath. “Don’t flatter yourself, Austin. Not every woman is susceptible to your many charms, you know.”
He laughed. “I didn’t say that, either.”
Paige sniffed, indignant. “Some things,” she replied, “go without saying.”
Austin cocked an eyebrow at her as she pointed the car toward town. “No matter what I say,” he ventured, “you’re going to disagree. Right?”
“Right,” Paige said.
That time they both laughed.
Austin folded his arms, closed his eyes, tilted his head back, the very picture of a contented cowboy. Although Paige hated to give this particular man credit for anything, she had to admit, at least to herself, that he still had the power to short-circuit her wiring.
He was so damnably at home in his own skin.
It would have bothered some men, riding shotgun instead of taking the wheel, but not Austin. Whatever he might have questioned in his lifetime, it hadn’t been his masculinity, Paige was sure of that.
Tate and Garrett were the same way. Maybe, she concluded, it was a McKettrick thing.
And why shouldn’t they be confident, all three of them? They had it all—good looks, money, a ranch that was large even by Texas standards, a name that commanded respect.
Heat