LITMIR.BIZ

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the bull, Stockwell.” She folded her arms, glaring at him. “You were spying on me, and I want to know why.”

      “Spying? Why, no, ma’am, I wouldn’t do any such thing. I was just, well, passing by and, ah…” Alerted by her furrowed frown, Travis realized that Peggy Saxon wasn’t the least bit fooled, and had no intention of buying a load of hooey, no matter how tempting the price. She wanted the truth, and if the angry wrinkle of her darling amber brows was any clue, she wanted it now.

      But danged if she wasn’t pretty when she was mad. Those green eyes flashing, and that pert little nose all scrunched up—Peggy tapped an impatient foot.

      Travis rolled his shoulders forward and sighed. “It just didn’t seem right, you being alone your first night home with those babies. And when I heard that there’d been, ah, some trouble around here, I figured I could catch a few winks in my truck so I’d be close by in case—”

      “Trouble?” Peggy blinked once and spun toward the squat, ruddy-faced policeman who had a death grip on Travis’s left bicep. “What kind of trouble?”

      Startled, the officer tipped his hat, his gaze darting to Travis, then back to Peggy. “There’ve been a few incidents, ma’am,” he admitted. “Some women have been, uh, assaulted.”

      Even in the pale moonlight, Travis saw the color drain from her face. “Oh.”

      An older officer with a bushy mustache loped back from the street clutching Travis’s wallet and the portable two-way radio he kept in his pickup truck. “The truck checks out,” the officer told Officer Charlie. “No wants, no warrants registered to Travis J. Stockwell. He’s clean, too,” he added, nodding at Travis.

      The ruddy-faced policeman seemed disappointed. “Maybe he’s been using that scanner to keep tabs on the police.”

      “It’s not a scanner,” the mustached officer replied. “It’s just a CB radio.” He glanced up at Peggy. “We can still take him in for trespassing, if you want, ma’am.”

      To Travis’s horror, she pursed her lips as if considering the option. “Trespassing? Oh, no, Peggy, ma’am, I wasn’t trespassing.” He straightened, shaking his head so violently he could feel his hair vibrate. Words rushed out, nervousness accentuating his Texas twang until it was thick enough to hang a hat on. “Something was moving out yonder in those woods, heading straight for your backyard. I couldn’t rightly tell what it was, so I just moseyed over for a quick look-see—”

      Peggy interrupted. “What was it?”

      “Ma’am?”

      “The ‘something’ that came out of the woods. What was it?”

      “Oh.” He coughed and studied his boots. “It was, umm, well, a cat.”

      Officer Charlie chuckled. The ruddy-faced officer snorted in disbelief.

      “What color was it?”

      Travis looked up, perplexed. “The cat, ma’am?” She gave an irritated nod. “It was orange, I think, and kind of striped.”

      Peggy turned away, but not before Travis saw the telltale quirk of that sweet little dimple. At that point, he realized that she had no intention of having him arrested.

      He exhaled all at once, then managed a reproachful stare. “Why, ma’am, if I didn’t know better, I’d swear you were just funning with me. `Course that can’t be true, on account of a fine lady such as yourself being too well bred to enjoy watching a man sweat like a pig in a butcher’s kitchen.”

      “You’re mistaken, Mr. Stockwell. I’m enjoying it very much.” Peggy unfolded her arms and fiddled with the lapels of a robe that Travis now noticed was worn through at the elbows. “You took ten years off my life,” she muttered. “I ought to let them have you.”

      He let his head droop forward, then rolled his eyes up and widened them, using the same whipped-puppy expression that used to melt Sue Anne’s heart whenever she got perturbed at him. “Yes’m, Peggy, ma’am. I’m real sorry.”

      A smile twitched the corner of her mouth. “Nice try, cowboy.”

      “Excuse me?”

      “I learned a long time ago that you can avoid stepping in it if you recognize the smell.” She heaved a sigh, shoved back a tangle of fiery hair. “Lucky for you, I’ve been feeding a little orange-striped stray. There’s a food bowl on the back porch.” She turned to Officer Charlie. “I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience, Officer, but apparently there’s been a misunderstanding. I won’t be pressing charges. You can let him go.”

      “You sure, ma’am?” When she nodded, albeit reluctantly, Officer Charlie moved around to remove the handcuffs.

      Travis rubbed his wrists, retrieved his wallet, CB radio and hat, and cast Peggy a woeful look as the ruddy-faced policeman hauled him aside to give him what appeared from Peggy’s vantage point to be a stern lecture.

      Peggy sagged against the porch rail, drained and oddly disoriented. She wanted to be angry. Dammit, she was angry. When she’d seen that slinking male shadow outside her window, she’d nearly fainted in terror. Her hands were still shaking.

      If Travis Stockwell could be believed, he’d been trying to protect her, a concept that boggled her skeptical, independent mind. No man had ever put himself out for Peggy before, not her husband, not her father, not even the hormone-pickled, adolescent dog who’d escorted her to the prom, then abandoned her for a tipsy blond cheerleader rumored to be taking all comers behind the high school gym.

      That had been a hard lesson, one of many that had taught Peggy not to expect much from the male of the species. Men, even relatively young ones, were transitory at best. At worst, they were deceitful, selfish and downright cruel.

      Clearly, Travis Stockwell did not represent the worst of his kind, which to Peggy’s mind meant that he was basically amicable, probably decent, a person who would treat others with respect for however long he chose to hang around.

      Naturally, Peggy didn’t hold Travis personally responsible for the emotional wanderlust afflicting his gender. She was, however, acutely aware of his maleness. From the brim of his Stetson to the scuffed toes of his stamped leather boots, Travis Stockwell was pure, unadulterated man. That kept her wary. It also affected her in deeper, more disturbing ways.

      The rev of a car engine broke into her thoughts. As she glanced up, one squad car was pulling away from the curb. The other had already hung a U-turn and was speeding into the night.

      Travis stood awkwardly at the foot of the porch steps, hat in his hands, shifting from foot to foot like a scolded child. “I’m real sorry to have upset you, Peggy. It was the last thing on this earth I meant to do.”

      “I know that, Travis.” The fact that he’d finally dropped the formality of calling her “ma’am” didn’t escape Peggy’s notice. It made them seem closer, somehow. More like friends. She smiled, fidgeted with a loose thread on the cuff of her robe and was suddenly embarrassed by her shabby attire. “Your intentions were honorable enough, but I wish you’d have let me know what you were up to.”

      “I figured you’d just say you didn’t need watching out for and send me packing.”

      “You figured right. Still, it was a kind gesture and I appreciate it.”

      The porch light illuminated his strained expression as he glanced over at his truck and back again. “So, have the babies been keeping you up tonight?”

      “Among other things.”

      He actually blushed. “You should go on inside, then, try to get some rest. G’night, Peggy.”

      For some reason, she felt a small surge of panic as he turned to leave. “Wait! I mean…” Her voice trailed off as he glanced expectantly over his shoulder. “Can I, ah, get you anything?”

      “Ma’am?”

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