A Texas Hero. Linda Warren
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“I have a diaphragm.”
“It doesn’t matter. The only rise you’re getting out of me tonight is my temper. Please go back to your mattress and go to sleep.”
“Okay. Okay.” She crawled to her spot, feeling rejected and about as low as she could get. She couldn’t even seduce a man.
“When you get home, see a therapist and work through your issues about sex. Sometimes sex is more in the brain than in the genitals.”
“Gee, I should have that printed on a T-shirt.”
“Abby.” He sighed. “We’ve only known each other a few hours and most of that time we’ve been at each other’s throats. I’m not trying to hurt you. I just think it’s not wise for us to get emotionally involved.”
“You’re right,” she admitted grudgingly. “After everything we’ve been through, I fear I’m losing it.”
“You’re not. You’re just punch-drunk from exhaustion. Try to sleep. That will help.”
“I’m afraid to close my eyes. If I do, I’ll be back in the bank with that gun pressed against my temple, or lying against that log with bugs crawling over me waiting for the blast of a gun.”
“Close your eyes and you’ll simply go to sleep. You’re too tired to dream.”
His words were comforting. She lay back and felt miserable. “My clothes are filthy and sweaty and I’m dirty from head to toe. I can feel sand between my toes. I can’t sleep like this.”
“Just don’t think about it.”
She sat up. “I’ll wipe my body with my top. Maybe I’ll feel better.”
“Whatever. You don’t need to tell me what you’re doing.”
She pulled her damp top over her head and wiped her neck, breasts and arms. The wind touched her skin. “Ah, that feels good.”
“Mmm” was his sleepy reply.
A loud howl echoed in the distance.
“What’s that?” She leaped onto his mattress right on top of him, their arms and legs entangled.
“It’s a coyote. For heaven’s sakes, I know you’ve heard a coyote before.”
“On TV and in movies, but not this up close and personal.”
“He’s miles away and not a threat. I’m about to lose my patience, Abby.”
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