“Where does the shoot-out take place?”
“Right here in front of the Lone Star.” He pointed at the batwing doors.
“Aren’t you going to tell me who won back in the day?”
“Why don’t you come back for Wild West Days? You could see the reenactment and find out.” Now he was proposing she come back in nine months when she’d hardly been in town nine minutes. Still, she might like it. He watched her reaction, hoping she liked the Bluff, or him, well enough and wondering at his own sense of insecurity. He felt like a teenager all of a sudden, with no experience with girls—or women. Misty was definitely all woman. She was soft, curvy, and sweet smelling, in spite of a little sweat and soot.
“How about I ask somebody?” She gave him a playful look with her pale green eyes.
“Bet we could find you a part to play. Dance-hall darlings in their white pinafores turned the tide. You’d look good all dolled up like that.” He couldn’t resist teasing her to see what kind of a response he’d get.
“You’re trying to lure me back with irresistible ideas like that.”
“If you think that’s tempting, I’ve got some even better suggestions.” He leaned toward her, feeling the cold of the AC against the rising heat of his bare skin.
“No more! I’m not made of stone.” She turned from him and pointed down the row of buildings. “Adelia’s Delights. I love the name. What’s there?”
He knew she’d used the distraction to cool things back down, and it wasn’t a bad idea. “Gifts. Tearoom.”
Inside one window, a life-size Santa Claus dressed in bright red velvet with a wide black belt and matching black cowboy hat waved back and forth. A pretty tortoiseshell cat snuggled up to Santa’s cowboy boot. She was a cat so perfect she looked like a stuffed animal until she turned her head to look in their direction.
“I see Miss Kitty’s in town,” Misty said with a mischievous lilt to her voice. “Is the town marshal named Dillon?”
Trey laughed. “That’s Rosie, Queen of Adelia’s. She’s one of the best Hemingway mousers in town.”
“And literary, too?”
He laughed harder. “Wildcat Bluff has a long history with cats. Store cats take care of bugs and rodents. Companionship, too.”
“And they guard the books?”
He shook his head, knowing she was teasing him now. He was enjoying every minute of it. She was almost too sharp for her own good. “If you get a chance, you’ll notice Rosie and other cats here have an extra dewclaw on one or more paws.”
“Like the polydactyl cats at the Hemingway House?”
“Hah! You’ve heard of the polydactyls.”
“I’ve seen them in Key West. Bought the T-shirt, too.”
“Even better.” He couldn’t help but like a gal who liked cats, especially one who knew about Hemingway’s.
“Somebody must have brought cats out west over a hundred years ago,” she said thoughtfully.
“They were worth their weight in gold in lots of places. They kept out vermin.” He chuckled. “Lots of fights over cat-stealing.”
“Hard to imagine now.”
“Not so hard here in the Bluff. Folks still prize their cats.”
“I’d like to go in just to meet the cat. And then shop, of course.”
“Plenty of time later. I need to stop by the fire station and check in.”
“I’m yours to command.” She tossed him a mischievous glance.
“Best not promise something you don’t mean.” He gave her a teasing look in return. He knew exactly what he’d command her given the opportunity.
“Directions, please.”
“That’s not any better. Gets a guy’s hopes up.”
“You’re being obtuse on purpose, Mr. Firefighter.” She arched one eyebrow, a sparkle in her big green eyes.
“I’ve been called thickheaded before. Don’t bother me a bit.” He leaned toward her, looked deep into her eyes, and saw the same heat there that he was feeling. He slowly kissed the tip of one finger and placed it against her lips. “A little bit of soot there. A devil’s kiss on an angel’s lips.”
She pushed his hand away, but she also licked her lower lip as if unable to resist tasting him. “Now you’re just trouble.”
He felt that little lick go straight to his belly. “You look like a gal who could use some trouble.”
“And you’re the guy to give it to me?”
“If it’s my kind of trouble, I’d be happy to help.” Right about now, he’d be happy to take a good long while to quench the fire they were building between them.
“No doubt. You’re such a helpful guy.”
“Anything to please a lady.”
“How about those directions?”
“Which ones?” He grinned, feeling hot enough to grill steaks on his bare flesh.
She tossed him a sharp-eyed glance, as if shutting down the fun. “No more talk about—well, you know what.”
“Okay, for now.” He didn’t mean that either, but he’d play by her rules till he found a way to persuade her to substitute his for hers.
“How ’bout those directions?”
“Coming right up.”
With Trey navigating, Misty backed out of her parking space and drove down Main Street to the end of Old Town.