Blame It on Texas by Christie Craig Page B

scream.
    The plate no sooner left her fingertips than Zoe recognized the man.
    With his right hand occupied with the gun, he used his left arm to block the plate. Unfortunately, the food found its way around his attempted block. And for the second time in one day, she’d showered Tyler Lopez with food.
    “You have to be kidding me.” He looked down at his chest, now covered in bits of rice, tiny cubes of tomatoes, and big chunks of enchiladas smothered in a warm, creamy cilantro sauce. Amazingly, his tone didn’t sound furious, more like surprised.
    She was much closer to the furious mark. “I was going to eat on that for two days.” And considering she’d given her grocery money as a gift, she’d really been happy.
    A blob of enchilada, sauce included, literally rolled down his forehead to his mouth. She saw his tongue swipe across his lips.
    “Damn, that’s good. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.” He smiled, and then, reaching into his food-splattered shirt, he slipped his gun inside.
    She almost found his smile contagious. Almost. “What are you doing in my house?”
    Guilt flashed in his eyes. “I… knocked.”
    “And I obviously didn’t answer.”
    “No, you didn’t. But I saw your car and was worried, so I… came in to make sure you were okay.”
    “And how is that not trespassing?”
    He licked his lips again, to catch another swipe of sauce. “I didn’t say it wasn’t.” His brow creased. He pointed a finger at her. “But you should have locked the door. Then you’d have me on breaking and entering.” He didn’t smile now, but humor brightened his brown eyes.
    “I was next door.” She knew it didn’t excuse her, but it was all she had right now.
    “Doesn’t matter.” The humor faded from his eyes. “Especially in this neighborhood.”
    She rolled her eyes. “I haven’t had a problem with intruders until now.”
    They stood and stared at each other. Why was he here?
    “Did you find out something about my birth certificate?” she asked, telling herself that had to be why he was here. That or he’d somehow guessed how attracted she was to him and how easy it would be to get her in the sack.
    “No,” he said.
    “No, what?” she asked, her mind still on her getting in the sack with him.
    “No, I didn’t find out anything on your birth certificate. But I ran across something else.”
    “What?”
    “It’s in my car.” He pointed down to his shirt. “Can I use your bathroom to clean up?”
    She nodded, and he stepped inside the bathroom. He didn’t shut the door. She heard the water turn on. The pipes started groaning as they always did.
    “Do you want me to rinse out your shirt so the sauce won’t stain?”
    He looked at her as she stepped inside the door. “No, it’s okay.”
    “I don’t mind.” She eyed the short-sleeve button-down, a solid colored light blue that looked really good on him. “It looks like a nice shirt, and I’m betting it will be ruined if you don’t rinse it out.”
    “Okay.” When he started unbuttoning his shirt, slowly, one button at a time, the awkwardness level in the room shot up way past the normal range and flew right into the “I wish I could fade into the nineteen-eighties’ washed out yellow and green wallpaper” range.
    Too late, she remembered how it had felt to be with him in Dixie’s small office. She shouldn’t be this close; shouldn’t be watching him remove his clothes. She looked away and hoped he didn’t see the embarrassment tiptoeing up her neck and cheeks. God, it wasn’t like she was a virgin or anything. Granted, it had been a long time. But she’d lived with Chris for three years—she was no stranger to sex. Before Chris, she’d been with three other guys. Of course, one was so bad she was hard-pressed to count him as the real deal. It had happened so fast, she wasn’t sure if Tab A had ever made it into Slot B.
    “Here,” he said.
    Forced to look up, her mind somehow stuck on slots and tabs, she took