Free A Cowboy Firefighter For Christmas (Smokin' Hot Cowboys 1) by Kim Redford Page A

it. You’re the Lone Ranger righting wrongs. Pick up Tonto and go for it.”
    Misty chuckled. “You and your old Westerns. As a matter of fact, my Tonto is named Trey.”
    “You’re kidding me.”
    “I’m in Comanche country.”
    Cindi Lou smacked her lips loudly over the phone. “One word. Photos. Got it?”
    “I’ll see what I can do.”
    “And stay safe.”
    “Will do, Hub Mistress.”
    Misty clicked off, stood up, and set her phone on the desk. She already missed Cindi Lou’s vibrant presence. But she had a job to do and she was going to do it. She already felt a connection to Wildcat Bluff and she didn’t want to see its residents or property hurt by a dangerous predator.
    Once she had a bath, she’d set up her laptop, write up first impression notes, and start files on everyone she’d met who could have connections to the fires. Later, she’d research online. She particularly wanted to find out about local water rights. She was looking for what didn’t fit or what fit too well. She also wanted to see the fire scene at the burned Christmas tree farm and chat with folks around town. She’d adjust her investigation as information came to her, but for now, she was pleased with her start.
    As she tugged her top over her head, her thoughts roamed to a cowboy firefighter named Trey. Shirtless, what a hunk. But she had to be practical. He was simply part of the investigation. Maybe even a suspect.
    Even so, a smart gal never turned down good barbeque or the chance to ogle eye candy. And she prided herself on having at least a modicum of functioning brain cells.

Chapter 7
    Trey drove up to Twin Oaks, parked, and cut his pickup’s rumbling engine. He’d already corralled Kent and Slade, a Steele cousin, into returning Ruby’s truck. He could see it parked beside the barn. His cousins might still be here, so he hoped he’d brought enough barbeque.
    He took a deep breath and felt his mouth water at the smell of the grub he’d bought in Old Town. After ranch chores, plus this morning’s firefighting, he was mighty hungry. He glanced around the area, like he always did, looking for trouble. All the firefighters kept an eye out for Ruby and her place since she lived alone. She knew to call one of them if she had a water pipe break or other problem, but sometimes pride got in the way of common sense. At the moment, everything on the property looked mowed, edged, caulked, and painted.
    He grabbed the sacks of food and stepped outside. Sun was almost down, so the air was cooler, but not by much. He checked the sky in all directions for traces of smoke. He took a deep breath. No smell of smoke either, now that he’d washed it out of his hair with a shower and changed clothes. After the grass fire, he still felt on edge. That’d been way too close for comfort. If his Christmas angel hadn’t arrived in time, there’d be no barbeque or spring tonight. Volunteers would still be out there trying to put out the prairie, or Dudley’s ranch house, or maybe the Texas Timber Christmas tree farm. The blaze had been headed that way.
    A white van was nosed up beside Misty’s SUV. He figured the vehicle belonged to the antique dealers Ruby had mentioned were staying at her place. He gave the vehicle a closer look. A lot of dust clung to the tires and turned the white paint a dingy gray. Odd. The vehicle looked more like it’d been driven on backcountry roads or pasture instead of pavement. Who knew where dealers went to find old stuff?
    As he crunched across the dry grass, he thought about his Christmas list. He’d rewritten it with Misty’s name in the number one spot and snow as number two. He’d put the sticky note back under his Frosty the Snowman refrigerator magnet. Maybe like would beget like. He’d even settle for a good gully washer, they needed water so bad. Right now the area was a tinderbox just waiting for a carelessly thrown cigarette butt on Wildcat Road or any back road.
    As Trey walked around to the