Two Wild for Teacher: Lone Star Lovers, Book 6 by Delilah Devlin Page B
Authors: Delilah Devlin
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taking a wife and starting a family made both of them feel itchy. Until they’d come to the Doubletree Ranch, they’d never known what a loving family could be like. Who knew whether they would follow their birth parents’ sorry footsteps rather than Sam and Gracie Logan’s? But Sam expected them to man up and give it a try. “How the hell we gonna find ourselves a woman?” he said aloud, although he didn’t really expect Mace to have the answer. He wasn’t the thinker. “We can’t settle on one for a whole weekend—how we gonna settle on one for the rest of our lives?”
Mace nodded. Then his blue eyes glinted, narrowed. He sat forward in his chair. “There’s only been one woman we ever wanted for longer than a day.”
Jason had an instant image of soft brown hair pulled back into a messy bun, dark-rimmed glasses perched on a pretty, slender nose, green eyes peering over the tops. He and his brother had fantasized about her for years. “She’s a pretty thing, but doesn’t even know it.”
“I like the way her eyes bug when she’s mad. She doesn’t like losin’ it.” Mace’s grin said he couldn’t wait to push her to the edge.
A smile twitched the corners of Jason’s mouth. Wouldn’t she be appalled to see them again? The thought didn’t dampen his enthusiasm one bit. On the contrary, just the idea of pursuing pretty Molly Pritchet caused heat to fill his loins. “We ain’t jailbait anymore,” he drawled.
“No, we ain’t.”
Both men shared wicked grins as they let the thought of what it might be like to seduce Miss Pritchet blossom.
“School’s out tomorrow,” Mace murmured.
Jason gave a firm nod. “She’s gonna have time on her hands. A whole summer’s worth.”
Both men scooted closer to the table, pie forgotten, and made their plan.
As she adjusted her burden in her arms again, Molly Pritchet wished she’d driven. She was hot, starting to sweat, and the muscles in her arms were beginning to burn with the weight of her box of personal items she’d emptied from her desk. Earlier, traces of roses and honeysuckle scenting the warm air had drawn her from her house, enticing her to get ready to embrace the last day of school and the start of her plans for a summer of blessed solitude, free of responsibility. That morning, she hadn’t wanted to think about anything but the pretty day, the flowers she had purchased to set into their beds and the small, decorative pond she wanted to install in her backyard.
Besides, walking to and from the little high school was the only real exercise she ever got.
With every passing year, she fought a little harder to keep padding from settling on her rear and upper thighs. So she walked, getting more of a workout than she’d planned, but enjoying the sounds of lawnmowers growling, birds chirping and children playing.
Lord, she loved the sounds of children. Not something that had changed over the eight years she’d been teaching. And it was a true joy to meet up with graduates who remembered her and stopped by to tell her about their lives, and how she’d touched them.
She might never have her own, but there were plenty of children she’d helped raise in her own limited capacity.
The sound of footsteps on the sidewalk—heavy tread, a little hollow—men’s booted heels, came from behind her, and she edged to the side to let whomever was approaching pass.
However, the steps slowed, and before she knew it, she had a man at each elbow.
Her breath caught when she recognized them. “Mason, Jason,” she said, hoping they’d take her reddening cheeks for exertion, not delight. She’d always had the most inappropriate thoughts where these two were concerned.
Some things never changed. They both looked so handsome and tall—shaggy blond hair curling beneath the brims of their straw cowboy hats, matching blue work shirts—nicely ironed—and dark Wranglers that molded to powerful thighs. The only notable difference in their
Mace nodded. Then his blue eyes glinted, narrowed. He sat forward in his chair. “There’s only been one woman we ever wanted for longer than a day.”
Jason had an instant image of soft brown hair pulled back into a messy bun, dark-rimmed glasses perched on a pretty, slender nose, green eyes peering over the tops. He and his brother had fantasized about her for years. “She’s a pretty thing, but doesn’t even know it.”
“I like the way her eyes bug when she’s mad. She doesn’t like losin’ it.” Mace’s grin said he couldn’t wait to push her to the edge.
A smile twitched the corners of Jason’s mouth. Wouldn’t she be appalled to see them again? The thought didn’t dampen his enthusiasm one bit. On the contrary, just the idea of pursuing pretty Molly Pritchet caused heat to fill his loins. “We ain’t jailbait anymore,” he drawled.
“No, we ain’t.”
Both men shared wicked grins as they let the thought of what it might be like to seduce Miss Pritchet blossom.
“School’s out tomorrow,” Mace murmured.
Jason gave a firm nod. “She’s gonna have time on her hands. A whole summer’s worth.”
Both men scooted closer to the table, pie forgotten, and made their plan.
As she adjusted her burden in her arms again, Molly Pritchet wished she’d driven. She was hot, starting to sweat, and the muscles in her arms were beginning to burn with the weight of her box of personal items she’d emptied from her desk. Earlier, traces of roses and honeysuckle scenting the warm air had drawn her from her house, enticing her to get ready to embrace the last day of school and the start of her plans for a summer of blessed solitude, free of responsibility. That morning, she hadn’t wanted to think about anything but the pretty day, the flowers she had purchased to set into their beds and the small, decorative pond she wanted to install in her backyard.
Besides, walking to and from the little high school was the only real exercise she ever got.
With every passing year, she fought a little harder to keep padding from settling on her rear and upper thighs. So she walked, getting more of a workout than she’d planned, but enjoying the sounds of lawnmowers growling, birds chirping and children playing.
Lord, she loved the sounds of children. Not something that had changed over the eight years she’d been teaching. And it was a true joy to meet up with graduates who remembered her and stopped by to tell her about their lives, and how she’d touched them.
She might never have her own, but there were plenty of children she’d helped raise in her own limited capacity.
The sound of footsteps on the sidewalk—heavy tread, a little hollow—men’s booted heels, came from behind her, and she edged to the side to let whomever was approaching pass.
However, the steps slowed, and before she knew it, she had a man at each elbow.
Her breath caught when she recognized them. “Mason, Jason,” she said, hoping they’d take her reddening cheeks for exertion, not delight. She’d always had the most inappropriate thoughts where these two were concerned.
Some things never changed. They both looked so handsome and tall—shaggy blond hair curling beneath the brims of their straw cowboy hats, matching blue work shirts—nicely ironed—and dark Wranglers that molded to powerful thighs. The only notable difference in their
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