He gently shook her arm. “Wake up, Deputy Meriwether.” The cat woke and jumped to the ground, but Dixie was dead to the world. Not knowing what else to do, he scooped her up and headed down the porch steps. Val hurried to open the passenger side door of Lincoln’s truck.
Once Lincoln had Dixie inside, he reclined the seat so she would be more comfortable, then fastened her seatbelt. Strands of golden hair had fallen over her face, and he smoothed them back before gently closing the door. When he turned, Val stood there holding Queenie with a knowing smile on his face.
“Yeah, you just work together.”
Lincoln didn’t comment as he took the cat and headed around to the driver’s side of the truck. “Thanks for dinner, Reba,” he called up to Reba who stood on the porch.
“Anytime, Linc. Same goes for Dixie.” She wore the same goofy smile as her husband.
It was a short drive to Dixie’s apartment. When he pulled in front, he misjudged the curb and drove up on it. Obviously, he shouldn’t have had that last beer. The jarring bounce caused the cat on his lap to sink her claws into his thigh.
“Sonofa—” He cut off, not wanting to wake Dixie, but only a second later she sat up in the seat and looked around.
“What . . . where are we?”
He unhooked the cat’s claws from his jeans and handed her to Dixie. “Your apartment. You fell asleep on the porch.”
She blinked sleepily and then yawned and stretched before noticing that one tire of the truck was sitting up on the curb. “What happened?”
Lincoln cleared his throat. “I misjudged the curb a little.” He put the truck in reverse and tried to ease the tire off the curb, but the landing was still jarring.
“A little?” Dixie looked over at him. Her hair fell around her face in mussed, sexy waves of butterscotch gold and her green eyes were heavy-lidded. She had never looked sexier. “Are you drunk, Lincoln?”
“I’m fine. I’ll see you in the morning. We need to fill out a report on the fire.” He waited for her to get out, but instead she reached across and pushed the ignition button, turning off the engine. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“My job.” She grabbed the key fob out of the cup holder before she opened the door and got out. She was almost to her front door before Lincoln got over his shock and jumped out of the truck.
“Give me back my keys, Dixie.”
“Nope.” She unlocked and opened her door. “You taught me that as a deputy I’m responsible for the safety of the people in my county. And I’m not going to let you drive all the way back to the Double Diamond ranch drunk. You shouldn’t have even driven here.”
“I’m not drunk.”
“Prove it.”
“How exactly would you like me to prove it? Do you happen to have a sobriety test with you?”
She thought for a moment. “Pat your head and rub your stomach in a circle.”
“What?”
She scrunched up her nose. “You’re right. I can’t even do that when I’m sober.” Her eyes lit up. “Say ‘Rubber baby buggy bumpers’ three times really fast.”
“That’s ridiculous. Where are my keys?”
She looked down at the open collar of her deputy shirt. “Somewhere you have no desire to go.”
“You didn’t.”
Her smile was smug and annoying. “I did.”
He glanced down at her breasts and all the moisture left his mouth. She was wrong. Dead wrong. He desired to go there. He dreamed about her sweet breasts every night. He dreamed about taking them in his hands and testing their fullness. He dreamed about burying his face in their softness and breathing in their scent. He dreamed about kissing every inch of their pale skin and learning the taste of their nipples.
But moving his dreams to reality was a good way to lose his job . . . and his sanity.
He lifted his gaze. “Rubber baby buggy bumpers . . . rubber baby buggy bumpers . . . rubber baby bubby—dammit!”
“Aww, that’s a shame,” she said. “You were so close too.” She turned and carried Queenie into the house.
“Dixie!” He followed her inside and promptly tripped over the threshold.
She glanced over her shoulder and grinned an annoying I-told-you-so smile. “You can take my bed. I’ll sleep on the couch this time.”
Dixie’s bed was like sleeping on a cloud. The pillow top mattress was firm. The white cotton sheets were soft and crisp. And the pillows were the kind of foam that conformed to your head and supported your neck.
And yet, Lincoln couldn’t seem to get comfortable.
Probably because he had a hard on that could pound nails into concrete and had ever since he’d come out of the bathroom and found Dixie making up the couch in a tiny pink nightie that barely covered her ass. He’d planned on insisting on taking the couch. But with all the blood in his body pooled in his dick, he hadn’t been able to put two words together. So he’d quickly exited into Dixie’s room and shut the door.
Now there he lay so horny that there was no way he was going to sleep.
Unless he got some release.
He glanced at the door before he eased down the waistband of his boxer briefs. As he took himself in hand, he closed his eyes and tried to come up with a good fantasy. Of course, the only good fantasy that came to mind included the woman sleeping in the next room.
He let it play out.
“Lincoln,” Dixie says in a sexy whisper. “Are you awake?”
She walks in and stands at the end of the bed in her skimpy little nightie. “I want you. I’ve wanted you since I first set eyes on you. You’re not only the best lawman in the state of Texas, but you’re the hottest man I’ve ever seen.” She strips the nightie over
