Flirting with Disaster (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 2)
“It’s the smell of the paint, not the carnage. You should see what he can do to a rabbit.”
Bear hit the door harder this time, and Tom jumped even as he put the gun away. “Why is he banging on the glass if he won’t come in?”
“Because he wants me to open the door so he can stare at me while I get exasperated. Haven’t you ever had a cat?”
“I’ve missed out on that joy,” he said drily.
“They have their benefits.”
“Like?”
She smiled. “He’s really warm on a cold night when I’m alone.”
He slanted her a look as he ran a hand over a windowsill. “How often are you alone?”
“Marshal Duncan, that’s a very forward question.”
He sneaked another look over his shoulder. “That was a very forward kiss.”
She couldn’t stop her grin. “I’m not attached to anyone, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“That’s what I’m asking.”
“Why?” she asked slyly. “Are you going to kiss me again?”
He looked gratifyingly pained by the question. “I can’t. I need to get back to my assignment. Plus, we barely know each other.”
She realized her laughter was a little impolite, but she couldn’t help it. “And we’re not going to get to know each other. You live on the other side of the state. But we can still kiss.”
He finished checking the windows and turned to her, his mouth flat. “Come on. Cheyenne isn’t that far away. Tell me something about yourself.”
“You know plenty about me already. It’s your turn. Do you have family?”
“Yes. Mom and Dad, and a sister who has a family of her own.”
“Are they all in Wyoming?”
“Yes,” he answered as he led the way out of the room.
“Do you get along with them?”
“We get along fine,” he said, as if that meant anything at all. Before she could press, he asked her a question. “How did you end up here?”
“I came through on a road trip, and I liked it.” Another truth. She was getting almost comfortable with it. “Why aren’t you married?”
He didn’t hesitate. “I travel too much.”
“Oh? So US Marshals don’t get married?”
“Fine. I never met the right woman. I don’t want kids, so that complicates things, or so I’ve been told.” He didn’t look to see if she was following him toward her bedroom.
“Now we’re getting interesting. Why don’t you want kids?”
“Why don’t you? You’re, what...midthirties? Why aren’t you married?”
Ha. She could answer that. “I’m thirty-six. And I’m too mean.”
He stopped and turned toward her. “You’re not mean.”