Gunslinger. Angi Morgan

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      If he didn’t get closer to his target this weekend, his undercover time was done. Nothing he did and nowhere he’d been seemed to catch Kylie Scott’s eye. Twice he’d been thrown next to her by town matchmakers. Twice they’d had polite conversation. Twice he’d been certain he’d broken through her protective shell. And twice he’d been wrong.

      Holding his straw hat away from him, he turned the water hose on himself with the other. Spitting-hot water hit his skin but quickly soothed the burn. Probably wasn’t good against sun protection, but he was just dang hot and wanted to cool down fast.

      He also needed a minute to watch the house across the street and two doors down. She had been taking care of lawn maintenance on a Saturday morning, too. Conservatively dressed in shorts and a long-sleeved shirt, Kylie Scott wasn’t flashy. No bikini tops to work on her tan.

      Pecan Street was empty now and Kylie’s garage door was shut. He should put the yard tools away and return to the half-assed air-conditioning. He’d missed when she’d finished up and moved inside.

      “Some undercover cop you turned out to be.” He’d talked more to himself in the past week than he’d ever admit. The red shoulders were just going to get worse. He might as well head to the store and grab some ointment. Or maybe he could ask to borrow some from Kylie.

      Taking a drink from the hose, he contemplated that until there was a puddle of mud next to him. How could he meet her?

      Former teen supermodel Sissy Jorgenson, the ex-wife of a short-lived marriage to Xander Tenoreno was hiding and doing a damn good job of it. Her ex was the state’s real target. It would help their case if they had more evidence against the Texas crime family and Company F had been assigned to obtain it.

      Bottom line, Xander was also looking for his ex-bride. The rumor circulating was that she had evidence against him that had kept her alive. True or false, Bryce didn’t know. His goal was to find Sissy/Kylie and convince her to hand over her evidence against the Tenorenos.

      Head of the family, Paul Tenoreno, was behind bars without bail facing trial in September. The final blow would be to add his son Xander as a cellmate. Bryce soaked his head, then shook his hair from side to side. Water sprayed like his brother’s dog shaking after swimming in their pool.

      “As good as that feels, you might not want to greet your neighbors that way.”

      He recognized Kylie’s voice, spun around. She screamed a little and hopped backward. He’d soaked her shirt with the water hose.

      “Dammit, that was careless of me. Sorry.” Bryce wiped his eyes free of droplets still clinging to his skin.

      “Wow, that was a bit of a shock.” She fanned her shirt front, but didn’t run home.

      “I, uh...didn’t hear you come up.”

      “I hope so, because if you wanted to have a wet T-shirt contest... Well, you’d need a shirt.” She nodded toward him, wringing the edge of her shirt onto her multicolored toenails.

      Wait. What? Was she flirting with him?

      Without his glasses and with water dripping into his eyes, he could barely see her facial expression, just her bright smile. True wheat-blond hair was pulled into a ponytail and stuck through the back of a ball cap. She was the right height of about five feet eleven. She wasn’t rail-thin, but slender enough to be a teenage model who had left the business.

      “Come to think about it, we probably do have some guys on this street who wouldn’t mind serving as the judges. You’d win of course.”

      “Huh? Oh. Right.” He couldn’t think of anything to say.

      “You’re making a bigger puddle.” She pointed to his feet.

      Bryce jumped toward the faucet and turned off the water, cursing under his breath at his ineptness. He slowly stood, ready to see where this strange encounter would lead.

      “Bryce? I don’t mean to impose, but I need your help. That is, if you could spare a few minutes.”

      “I don’t have any plans.”

      She relaxed and let out a long sigh. “Oh good. It shouldn’t take long. I noticed that you have an extension ladder and wondered if you could get my pole saw out of the tree in my backyard.”

      “Sure.” Flirting? Wishful thinking was more like it.

      He retrieved the ladder from the garage and headed down the middle of the small town street.

      “Need help?”

      “Not at all, I got this.”

      She was already walking next to him as if she’d known how he would answer. The ladder was more awkward than heavy. Sort of like their conversation. He had an opportunity now and couldn’t think of anything he might ask that wouldn’t sound suspicious.

      Last thing he needed was for her to take off and disappear. He’d never hear the end of that at the office.

      “I’ve noticed that you don’t talk much.”

      “Not really. If I’m honest, I haven’t gotten much practice lately.” He rested the ladder on the inside of her fence as she worked the combination lock on the gate. If she wasn’t the former Sissy Tenoreno, something had happened to Kylie Scott to make her overcautious.

      “Are we being honest?” She smiled shyly, focusing on removing the lock.

      The temperature should have dropped when they walked under the oak shade tree. But he could swear it rose several degrees when she stole a look before she pushed up her sunglasses.

      In the past couple of weeks, he’d never seen her eyes up close. Even without his glasses, her long eyelashes, tinted a rich dark brown, hadn’t hidden the quick peek she’d taken of his chest.

      Instead of the bright blue eyes from her modeling days, they were a deep dark brown—almost black—when she didn’t hide behind mirrored shades. Definitely not the color of Sissy’s, but the shape...

      No doubt remained.

      Kylie Scott was the woman he’d been searching for.

      * * *

      KYLIE OPENED THE gate and Bryce grabbed the ladder on the other side. She dropped the lock back through the slots, then removed it before he noticed—hopefully. It was silly to be so paranoid.

      But paranoia had taught her to be hypervigilant with her safety. She wasn’t used to leaving the locks out of place.

      Even when no one appeared to be on the street. Even when she had a very capable-looking man standing next to her, it went against her habits to leave the gate unlocked. But she managed it by sticking the padlock inside her pocket.

      “I was trimming a dead limb and the saw got stuck.”

      “Lucky I was around.”

      “I have some iced tea. Can I get you some?”

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