Free Not Just a Cowboy (Texas Rescue) by Caro Carson Page B

lost his mind. The chief was starting his second round of thanks. Patricia held up the keys in her hand and gave them a jangle. “I did nothing daring. The keys were already in my office. I’d appreciate it if you and your men keep it quiet, that’s all. No locker room antics, please.”
    The chief chuckled, but that didn’t mean she’d actually said anything amusing, of course. It only meant she was a Cargill.
    “Got that, guys?” the chief said, turning back toward Luke and the guys. “No towel snapping.”
    If he said anything after that, Patricia paid no attention. The sudden image of a nude Luke having a towel snapped at what was undoubtedly a muscular backside made that fluttery feeling return in force.
    Luke lingered as the rest of his crew entered the facility, but Patricia didn’t get out of her chair for a private word. It would be too obvious that she knew him better than the others. She stayed next to the woman from Houston, knowing—hoping—Luke wouldn’t say anything inappropriate in front of his peer.
    “So we have you to thank for providing the cold shower,” he said.
    “It is June, and this is Texas, so I don’t think the water will be that cold.” She tried to make her voice cold, though. He couldn’t expect her to fall to pieces like she had earlier.
    “Cold is fine with me,” Luke said, sounding perfectly sincere. “After the heat we dealt with earlier, a cold shower is just what I need.”
    As he walked away, he took the towel off his shoulder and started spinning it into a loose whip, which he cracked at the handle just before he opened the door and walked into the showers.
    “Men,” said the woman beside her.
    Patricia closed her eyes, willing herself not to envision Luke stark naked, just a few feet away.
    “Men,” she agreed.

Chapter Eight
    P atricia was the first woman to finish her shower. She combed out her wet hair and twisted it up with a clam-shell clip. The Houston firefighter and the cook who’d made the late night run to the new pet-friendly shelter were still showering, as well as an ER nurse. How the cook and the nurse had found out the showers were open was a mystery, but Patricia knew from previous missions that word traveled fast when everyone worked together in a confined community like the mobile hospital.
    The exit from the showers was at the opposite side of the facility from the entrance. Patricia gathered up her toiletries bag, her towel and her deck shoes. She’d wear her shower flip-flops back to the women’s sleeping quarters. Although she’d have to wait for the others to finish so that she could lock up, she’d rather wait in the open air. The forecasted rain was threatening, but Patricia knew she’d be able to hear the ocean in the quiet of the night. She could listen, and dream of something that had nothing to do with Texas Rescue and hospitals and firemen.
    She could dream of sailboats. Large, oceanic ones. The kind that went somewhere. The kind she would own someday soon, when her money was her own.
    The exit door had just shut behind her when a man’s voice quietly said, “First one out. I knew that high-maintenance look was just an act.”
    Patricia squealed in surprise and whirled to face Luke.
    “Shh,” he said, and he took her shoes out of her hand and pulled her deeper into the dark.
    “What are you doing?” she hissed.
    “Making sure no one sees you running off to kiss a boy, remember? You wanted to keep this a secret.”
    Luke stopped when they reached a tree, a multi-branched oak that had survived the hurricane. There was enough light to see his smile. There was enough night to make it feel like they were alone.
    Patricia kept her voice to a near-whisper as she set the record straight. “That’s not what I said. I said kissing you wasn’t going to be an ongoing thing.”
    “Why not? It’s fun.” Luke dropped her shoes and looped his arms around her waist, then leaned back against the tree and pulled her to stand between