Read Online Texas Pride by Bárbara McCauley - Free Book Online Page B

was one of amazement as he stood in the doorway and glanced around the kitchen. She’d been up cleaning the room since well before dawn. After five hours of tossing and turning, she’d needed something to do. The hardwood floors were swept clean, the butcher-block counters and iron sink spotless.
    â€œMornin’,” he said.
    It was a cautious greeting. Good, she thought. After the way he’d kissed her, then left her standing alone last night, he’d better be cautious. She hated the fact that even now her knees were weak and her hands were trembling. “Morning.”
    He moved slowly into the room, obviously testing the waters. “Is that bacon or sausage I smell?”
    She shut the oven door, but kept the pot holder in her hand so she’d have something to hold on to. “Both.”
    Both? Dylan couldn’t believe it. How angry could Jessica be with him if she’d prepared such a lavish breakfast? If anything, he’d expected a cool nod as she handed him his walking papers.
    Could he have misread her response to him last night? he wondered. She’d clung to him, as eager for him as he was for her. All night he kept hearing that soft little moan of hers. Needless to say, it had been a hard night.
    He watched her calmly pour a cup of steaming coffee into a mug. Maybe the kiss hadn’t meant anything to her, after all, he thought with more irritation than he understood. Hell, if she could dismiss it so easily, then so could he. It was nothing. A simple kiss. No big deal.
    Okay, so fine. It certainly made life easier. He was glad that Jessica was a woman who didn’t overreact. Now he could enjoy his breakfast and forget about last night. Good.
    â€œSugar?”
    He glanced at her. “Excuse me?”
    â€œYou want sugar or cream?” she asked.
    â€œOh.” He shook his head. “No. Just black, thanks.”
    She set the coffee on the table and gestured for him to sit. She’d pulled her hair into a ponytail, but several strands had pulled loose and circled her flour-smudged heart-shaped face. The white chef’s apron she wore over her jeans and blue plaid shirt looked as if she’d been cooking for a week.
    Unbidden, desire flared, and he quickly shoved it back down. It wasn’t as if she was wearing silk or lace, for God’s sake, but he still couldn’t remember when a woman had ever looked sexier.
    â€œYou got this old stove working by yourself?” he asked, forcing his mind in another direction.
    Jessica turned back to the stove. “After I cleaned out the chimney flue and found some firewood.”
    She must have been up hours ago to have accomplished all she had and fixed breakfast, also. He felt a pang of guilt for forcing her into cooking, but tamped down the feeling when his stomach growled. After all, a man had to eat. And the incredible aromas of bacon, fresh-baked biscuits and coffee had his mouth watering already.
    He noticed she had only one place set. “You aren’t eating?”
    She took the biscuits out of the oven and set them on the table, then lifted a cast-iron frying pan off the stove and moved beside him. “I don’t normally eat breakfast. Eggs?”
    He smiled broadly. “Thanks.”
    She scooped up a ladleful and slapped it on his plate.
    His smile froze as he stared at the unrecognizable yellow and gray lumps.
    â€œThey started off fried,” she said, “went to scrambled and ended up foozled.”
    His smile began to fade. “Foozled?”
    â€œFoozled. You know, whatever.”
    He watched as she dropped something dark brown and round beside the eggs. It hit the plate like a rock. In fact, Dylan thought, it looked like a rock. What he thought might be bacon came next, but there were too many small black pieces to be sure.
    â€œI haven’t quite gotten used to the temperature control,” she said casually. “But for my first attempt, I think it’s pretty