Designed for Love (Texas Nights) Read Online Free

eyes. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am that Napoleon...”
    “Peed down my arm?”
    She nodded without opening her eyes. Why that made him want to turn her into his arms and give her a hug, he had no idea. “He’s never done anything quite this...”
    “Out of control?” Yeah, the place was a friggin’ wreck, but it had been kinda funny to see the manager about pop an artery watching Ashton’s dog jump around in the meat case.
    “He just wanted his normal dinner.”
    “And that’s what?”
    “Filet.”
    “Pretty sure you’re not talking about some fancy-ass dog food.”
    “No. Tenderloin cut two inches thick.”
    Holy Christ, he hadn’t even eaten a steak that prime since...well, he wasn’t sure when. “He like those bacon-wrapped?”
    Ashton’s eyes popped open. “It’s not funny.” Still, her lips moved, and she swiped a hand across them as though to wipe away a smile.
    “I think it would’ve been a helluva lot easier to hit the meat counter first. More likely the little emperor would’ve stayed in his purse that way.”
    “It’s not a purse. It’s a pet transpo—”
    “Ms. Davenport,” the manager interrupted, “I ran the total for you. Please come to the customer service counter to settle your bill.”
    Ashton’s spine snapped straight. “Just let me get my purse. I left it—”
    Mac produced her purse with the dog’s little house thing half stuffed in the top. “I snagged it for you.”
    “Thanks.” Her voice broke on the word.
    “Hey,” he said softly, stepping closer. And weren’t they a fragrant trio? Ammonia, coffee, and Ashton’s scent—something that made him think of slick skin and slow sex. “Just pay for everything. Give the guy a few months and he’ll probably let you back into the store.”
    “That’s not—” She shook herself and smiled, but as his daddy would’ve said, it was as fake as the tits in Hugh Hefner’s house. “Thanks again for the help. I’m not sure I would’ve caught him if you hadn’t been here. No telling what would’ve happened next.”
    “Bakery?”
    “He
is
fond of buttercream frosting.”
    “Ms. Davenport?” the manager called from the aisle in front of them.
    She shrugged an apologetic shoulder. “Time to pay the piper.”
    Something about her forlorn little movement and the way her lips turned down compelled Mac to escort her to the front of the store. She had to be humiliated. The least he could do was stand beside her while she wrote out that check and walked out of here without a single steak.
    He fell into step with her, and she glanced up at him, her raised eyebrows telegraphing surprise.
    “Hey, I figured I was here for the beginning of the show. I might as well hang around for the last act.”
    “Last supper, you mean.” At least he thought that was what she muttered into the dog’s fur.
    When they made it to the front, people were clustered around the checkout counters. As Ashton strode through them as though she was a queen and they were her subjects, everyone shrank back. No distinct words could be heard, but the buzzing was clear. Having grown up in a small town a couple of hours from Shelbyville, he knew how quickly gossip flowed, and he preferred to stay as far away from the grapevine as possible. Another reason he rarely visited his hometown.
    Or his mom.
    No need for chili now because guilt filled his belly.
    Ashton settled her purse strap higher on her shoulder, adjusted Napoleon in her arms and strode—chin up—toward the customer service booth. The manager sat up there behind a half wall of glass and looked down on Ashton as though he were the judge and she were a defendant about to be sent up the river to do time. Hard time.
    He waved an adding machine tape that was at least two feet long. Who the hell used an adding machine anymore?
    “Without taking into account any damages to store property, the total of the food products your...dog...destroyed is $9,546.”
    Ashton gasped as though she’d been