High Octane (Texas Hotzone 2)

Ryan frowned. “What?”

“Nothing,” she said, waving off the question. “He’s persistent. Let me go buy his candy and send him on his way.” She pushed to her toes and kissed Ryan. “Don’t forget where we were.”

Trying to escape, she didn’t get far—Ryan pulled her to him, ignoring the renewed knocking, and kissed her solidly on the lips. “Don’t you forget where we were.”

His reward was a beaming, seductive smile. “Oh, I won’t,” she said. “You can count on it.”

Together they walked to the door. “And this kid usually wants what?” he asked.

“For me to buy whatever he is selling.”

Ryan reached for his pocket. “I’ll buy his whole stock if he’ll let us get back to what we were doing.”

Looking amused, Sabrina reached for the door. “I’m sure you are about to make his year.”

Ryan wiggled an eyebrow. “I aim to please,” he said. “Keep that in mind.”

The door opened to reveal a tall, lanky kid, maybe fourteen, with dark-rimmed glasses, holding a package. The kid glanced at Ryan, a stunned look on his face, as if he had hoped to find Sabrina alone. Ryan knew how the kid felt. He wanted her alone, too.

“Hi, Kelvin,” Sabrina said. “Whatcha got for me tonight?”

“Hi, Sabrina,” Kelvin said, casting her a smitten look—if Ryan had ever seen a boy look smitten. But hey. He couldn’t blame the kid on that either. The last time he was as smitten as he was for Sabrina, he’d been fourteen himself and had just moved into his third foster home. That’s when he’d met Laurie Monroe, the blonde, big-breasted bombshell of an eighteen-year-old next door, who’d showed him her bare breasts. He’d been her biggest fan until he’d turned sixteen and figured out the hands-on action of Twister rather than the hands-off game of show-and-tell.

“The mailman left this package for you at our house,” Kelvin said. “It came yesterday. I would have brought it sooner, but we went out of town last night. I had a band competition.”

Sabrina accepted the oversize square package, and Ryan took it from her. “Well, thank you so much for doing this, Kelvin,” she said. “How’d you fare at the competition?”

Kelvin straightened with pride. “First Place District.”

“Yay!” Sabrina said, clapping. “How exciting.” She hugged Kelvin, and Ryan captured a glimpse of the boy’s expression.

Ryan barely stifled a chuckle before the door shut, allowing him to let it fully rip. “You almost gave that boy a cardiac arrest at a tender, too-young age.”

Sabrina’s brow dipped. “What are you talking about?”

They moved toward the living room as Ryan replied, “You can’t possibly be oblivious to the lovestruck-puppy eyes he gives you.”

“He’s a kid, Ryan!” she protested.

“He’s a teenage boy,” Ryan corrected. “That’s a whole different breed.”

“That’s crazy,” she said, dismissing the idea. “He’s so cute.” She sat down on the couch. “And sweet.”

“And hormonal,” he added. Ryan set the package on the coffee table and joined her on the couch.

Sabrina instantly reached for the package. “No return address. Hmm. I’m curious now.” She ripped open the outside paper.

Ryan balled it up and snatched the food bags. “Trash can in the kitchen, I assume?”

“Pantry by the stove,” she said, removing the paper on the outside of the box. “Thank you.”

Whistling, Ryan headed to the kitchen, admiring the city lights through the expanse of windows wrapping around the room. He was at ease in a way he couldn’t imagine himself ever feeling in one of the houses he’d viewed today. Maybe he needed a condo. Maybe he just needed Sabrina. It was an off-the-wall thought, and he dismissed it. Ryan opened the pantry door, quickly disposed of the trash and then stared at the shelves in disbelief. Rows of food were organized in perfect lines.

Ryan scrubbed his jaw. “You’d think she was the one who’d been in the military for fourteen years,” he murmured to himself. She most definitely had some control issues. It was going to be interesting to see who played the submissive in bed. Maybe they’d take turns.

With that thought in mind, Ryan made a fast return to the living room. Instantly, Ryan noted the crackling silence in the air, coupled with the look on Sabrina’s face as she appeared absorbed in the pages of what looked like a photo album or perhaps a scrapbook.

Ryan hesitated to approach, pausing, taken aback by more than her mood. She was beautiful, classy and elegant in a way that defied her Harley T-shirt and jeans. The type of woman who comfortably rubbed shoulders with Washington types—the types who sent guys like himself out into the scary places of the world to swim through blood and death.

Seeming to sense his attention, she glanced up from the book. “It’s from my father,” she said, a distinct tinge of bitterness to her tone. “A scrapbook of highlights of my career.”