Crazy Hot Love (Dirty Dicks 2)

Every time I see Claire, I tell myself to play it cool. No staring. No flirting. And absolutely no smokin’ hot fantasies. Nine times out of ten I succeed, but today is that tenth time, and I can’t seem to control what comes out of my mouth. Oddly enough, she doesn’t seem to be bothered by it, which I find fascinating.

I’ve seen the way women look at me—like I’m a piece of meat, someone to show them a good time. I can hardly be mad because that’s the vibe I’ve given off. But with Claire, it’s always been different. When she looks at me, it’s as though she’s looking through me, tempting me to open myself up and tell her all my secrets, secrets I need to keep her away from. It’s unnerving to say the least, and yet peaceful in a way I don’t quite understand.

My reputation as a ladies’ man is true. It’s also a thing of the past. I’ve never been interested in a committed relationship, but lately the thought of taking home a beautiful woman, only to have her walk out a couple of hours later, never to be seen again, isn’t as appealing as it once was.

Mom always said one of these days I’d feel the need to settle down. That need hasn’t hit full force, but maybe this is the start of it, maybe it’s somewhere on the horizon.

I have a feeling I could settle down with someone like Claire. Unfortunately, I’ll never get the chance. Rhett and Coop would kill me if I laid a finger on her. And while I’m certain I could kick both of their asses with my hands tied behind my back, I have my own reasons to keep her at arm’s length. But those reasons seem to fade when she’s standing this close to me.

Tucking the rag into my pocket, I take a step back, hoping I’ll be able to regain some of my sense. “Whatcha got for me?” I ask, nodding toward the brown bag in her hand.

Claire sets the bag on my tailgate and pulls out two sandwiches, chips, and a soda. “Figured you didn’t bring lunch.”

“You’re right. I didn’t. But this is great. Thank you.” I grab the first sandwich and take a hearty bite.

“Were you planning on working through lunch or what?”

“This fence isn’t going to mend itself, so yeah, I was plannin’ on working through lunch.”

Claire shakes her head. “All you Allens are so much alike. Work, work, work.”

She hit the nail on the head with that one.

I have three brothers and a sister; Beau is the oldest brother, a freelance photographer who bops around the world. Then there are the twins, Cooper and Rhett. Coop owns Dirty Dicks, a local tavern and restaurant, and Rhett is a bull rider with the PBR, and he also works on the ranch with Dad. Aside from our blue eyes and mutual affection for the one and only Claire Daniels, the only thing we boys have in common is our work ethic. None of us knows when to quit or step back. We’re always pushing ourselves beyond our limits. It seems the only one who has been able to find balance is Rhett, and that’s all thanks to his relationship with Mo.

Then there’s my baby sister, Adley—smart and sweet with the mouth of a sailor and more balls than most of the men in my fire department. Plus, she’s got a heart made of pure gold, which explains why she’s studying to be a nurse.

“Work isn’t a bad thing. Keeps me out of trouble.”

Claire raises a brow. “And by trouble you mean someone like Blondie who was trying to mount you in the bar last night?”

Is she jealous? I want to call her on it, but if I found out she was, in fact, jealous, that would add fuel to the fire already raging inside of me. “I didn’t touch Ella.”

“Ella? She has a name.”

“She does. And the only reason I know it is because I used the jaws of life to get her out of a mangled car about a month ago.”

“Oh.” Claire blinks and looks down.

I follow her gaze, and that’s when I notice the dog she’s brought with her.

“Sometimes I forget you save lives for a living,” she says.

“I don’t save lives for a living. I’m a firefighter, Claire. Who’s your friend?” I nod toward the fuzz ball prancing around in the grass like she’s got a stick up her ass.

“Nice deflection,” Claire says. “And this is Milo. He’s blind, so be careful.”

I squat down, offering the dog my hand to sniff. Milo prances toward me, sniffs around, and licks the tip of my finger before bouncing off to the next best thing. She gets tangled in the leash and falls down, but gets right back up.

“Sorry, sweetheart, but Milo is a girl. No male would flounce around like that.”

“Excuse me,” she scoffs, bending down to cover Milo’s ears. “He doesn’t flounce, and he is definitely a he.”

“Oh yeah?” I lift a brow.

“Yeah.”

“And you know this because…”