Read Online Texas Strong by Jean Brashear - Free Book Online Page B

For all the years after, he’d harbored his resentment, his anger at his inability to change the hellhole that was his childhood. And everyone left him to it.
    Only his sister reached out to him, and that only recently.
    He didn’t want pity.
    But the chance at belonging, he discovered, could still tempt him into the light. Last night had shown him that in spades. The treacherous warmth of Chrissy’s dinner table, the powerful sense of connection between her and her children…what he wouldn’t have given for a mother like that, one who was strong and fierce and ready to battle the world for her children. She might be small, but she was mighty in her own way.
    She made him want things he knew he could never have.
    Get on with it , he lectured the traitorous longing inside him. Get this done, then leave them be .
    Would you like to ride, too, Miss Becky? He nearly groaned when he remembered the promise he’d made to two little kids who didn’t ask for much. He’d have to see if Ian or Mackey had a gentle mare he could borrow. The thought grated at him. If only Veronica and Jackson owned horses, but they hadn’t gotten around to that. Jackson was too busy with his company and Veronica with her flower farm. If one of the kids asked for a horse, he knew one would be produced immediately, but neither of the twins had.
    I don’t have any friends . Becky’s sad smile.
    He could do something about that, too—if he dared. His sister would help any child, no matter who was asking.
    But damn it, he didn’t want to be asking. He was better off alone, the way he had been for years.
    “Could I get you some coffee or water or something?”
    He jolted at Chrissy’s voice. “You’re supposed to be at work.”
    She shook her head. “I have the day off, thanks to Brenda. She took my shift.”
    He didn’t like this, not one bit. How the hell was he supposed to focus on the work when she stood beside him, smelling like sunshine and sin?
    “So what is a pulley?” she asked.
    He grabbed the escape. “There are several, but it’s this one on the tensioner. I’ll take it off, so I can see if the problem is a bearing, as I suspect.”
    “Can I help?”
    He was already shaking his head when he considered again. “Maybe. My hands are big, and reaching down there is a challenge. But I don’t want your hands to get hurt.”
    “What’s the worst that would happen? Scraped knuckles?”
    “Probably, but still…”
    “Tank.” And she touched him again, one slender hand on his bicep. He sucked in a breath at the unexpected contact.
    She jerked her hand away. “Sorry.” Her smile was rueful. “I’m a toucher. I can’t seem to help it.”
    Touch me again. Anywhere . The unexpected yearning just about laid him flat again. He forced his gaze back to the engine. “It’s okay.” Crap. What an idiot . It was so much more than okay, and yet it was far too disturbing. He lived his life keeping iron control over impulse, never allowing himself to break free.
    God, she made him want to be free. Wanted to see what freedom felt like.
    But he couldn’t risk it. Especially not with her, all sunny smiles and sweetness.
    He bent to the task of fitting the ratchet to the bolt holding the pulley in place. He barked his knuckles and exhaled, then worked at it again.
    “Would you let me try?” she asked.
    He hesitated. She had pretty hands, and he didn’t want them hurt. “Do you have any gloves?”
    She frowned. “Not work gloves—Wait. Could I use dishwashing gloves?”
    “You really don’t have to—”
    She was already halfway to the house. “Be right back!”
    He sighed. He needed her to stay in there, to stay far away. Being in such close quarters with something he couldn’t have was torture.
    But she returned, beaming, bright pink gloves on her hands. “I’m so excited. I need to know more about my car. It’s ridiculous to be this ignorant when I’m responsible for two children. If you have time, would you show me