wasnât sure how heâd react if Mackenzie Byrd put her head on his shoulder like she had the cowboyâs. Wasnât sure if his arm would steal around her waist, too, or if heâd pull her close to his side and brush his lips over the curve of her right ear.
He frowned. Thoughts like that were dangerous. This was Mac he was talking about. The foremanof the Triple C. Cassâs best friend. Blue Perezâs . . . undetermined. She was annoying, muddy little Mac. Sure, sheâd grown, in all sorts of ways he couldnât help but notice. But she was, and would always be, troublesome. And he didnât have time for troublesome.
A yard or two before she hit the bottom stair of the porch, she looked up and spotted him. Her expression tightened instantly, and even in the shadowed light, Deacon noticed how stormy her blue eyes had turned. She was pissed. As usual. But this time, he wasnât exactly sure who she was pissed at.
âGiving my new baby brother a little comfort, darlinâ?â he called out.
ââCourse. Thatâs how friendship works,â she returned, her tone as thunderous as her gaze. She moved up the steps and around the porch railing to face him. âAll right, Deacon. Letâs have it. What are you going to do?â
He inhaled deeply, glanced at the driveway and his truck parked there. âI havenât decided. Get to bed early, or maybe head into town for some supper.â
âDammit, thatâs not what Iâm talking about and you know it. Iâm sure youâre concocting a plan as we stand here. How to get Blue off the Cavanaugh ticket.â
He turned back and regarded her. âHeâs not on the ticket yet, sweetheart.â
âYou donât believe it?â she said incredulously.
âWhat I believe is that science is unbiased,â he said. âExcept when you pay it not to be.â
Her eyes widened to the size of silver dollars. âAre you accusing Blue or . . . or Everett of a bullshit DNA test? Blue didnât even know heâd been tested.â
âExactly,â Deacon said, pushing away from the railing. âThis time around, everyone will know.â
âThis time around . . . Christ, youâve already made the call, havenât you?â
âSomeoneâll be here by tomorrow.â
Dark brows lifted over stunning blue eyes. âThat quick? That easy?â She snorted. âHave someone who handles this type of problem on staff, do you?â She leaned in and whispered, âMaybe you need to start wearing protection, darlinâ.â
She was close. Too damn close. He could smell that perfume again, and something else, too. The heat off her skin or the shampoo she used.
âYou havenât changed, Mackenzie Byrd,â he growled softly.
She drew back, a serious expression moving over her face. âNo, I havenât. Iâm still the girl from River Black who loves this ranch, remembers good times here, remembers her best friend. Iâm still that girl who lives for the land, loves a goodhorse underneath her, loves causing some trouble.â She locked eyes with him, and her voice softened. âIâm the country girl whoâs saying to youâdonât do this, Deacon.â
His eyes dropped to her mouth. âDo what?â
âDestroy the Triple C.â
He watched the movement of her lips as she spoke. Had a strange, hypnotizing way about it. âDid your boyfriend ask you come over here and beg me to abandon my plans? Walk away?â
She snorted. âPlease. I only beg if chocolateâs involved.â
His eyes flipped up.
âAnd,â she added, âBlueâs not my boyfriend.â
Deaconâs lips twitched. âYou might want to tell him that.â
âI donât have to. He knows. I know. We have an understanding.â
Deacon grinned at her now. âYou donât know how guys think,
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