After a moment of stunned silence, Linc and Shelly got up from their seats and hurried away in opposite directions.
Linc was still fuming on the drive home that evening. He hadn’t had a problem with a woman since he’d turned twelve. He increased his pressure on the gas pedal, letting the car gain speed to match his pulse.
Whenever his father had been angry, he’d gotten on his horse and ridden until he was spent. Linc, who’d been a city boy until his father took him in at thirteen, much preferred to ride his steel horse when he was upset. His Cobra Mustang was his pride.
But that car was in the shop now, and he was driving his environmentally conscious hybrid. Though it made his conscience feel great, it wasn’t doing much for his need to burn adrenaline.
Linc tightened his hands on the steering wheel, missing the sound of a revving engine and the rush of power that came with manually shifting gears.
He had to find a way to get along with Shelly—colonel’s orders. He rolled his eyes. Throughout his entire career in the military, he’d never been reprimanded like that. He didn’t appreciate Shelly putting him in a position to get his first reproof.
He jerked up the parking break and turned off the engine. Usually, the hour-long commute from Johnson Space Center to his ranch outside the city gave him plenty of time to work through his frustrations. But as he climbed out of the car that evening, his muscles were wound tighter than ever, and he was still muttering curses under his breath.
For once, he decided to tear a page out of his father’s book and try riding his favorite horse, Galaxy. She was black with silver dapples along the flanks that made her resemble a night sky. He’d known she was his from the second he’d laid eyes on her.
Now this had been one female he’d been able to charm out of her cantankerous demeanor, he thought as he prepared Galaxy for his ride.
He’d been warned against buying her because she’d been stubborn and extremely skittish. A steady regimen of pampering and cajoling had finally won Galaxy over. From then on, Linc thought, there wasn’t a member of the fairer sex who could resist his charms.
Until Shelly.
Mounting his horse, he cantered Galaxy across his land until they were in the open, where she could run free.
Why couldn’t he charm Shelly? She wasn’t his usual type, but he could charm most women. Just thinking about her made his blood boil so much, he could barely remember what she looked like.
She was the stereotypical librarian type, who had the potential to be attractive without the glasses, pinned-up hair, and the gigantic rod up her back. But he preferred women who put some effort into their looks. He liked it when a woman wore makeup and dressed to look good for her man.
Still, no one was saying he had to date her—just get along. Maybe he just needed to turn up the wattage on his charm. An innocent compliment or two, and she’d be eating out of his hand, the way Galaxy was taking sugar cubes from his palm right now.
They’d stopped by the creek for a rest break, but as Linc saw twilight sneaking up on him, he realized he had to get back to the ranch. If he rushed, he could get in the shower before his date that night.
He was going out with Anisa, a contestant from the most recent season of Make Me a Supermodel, and he didn’t want to show up smelling like his horse.
Shelly’s stomach rumbled loudly. The three engineers sitting alongside her launched into a chorus of jibes regarding the monster growling in her belly.
“Quick! Feed the beast,” Quincy said, tossing her a mini Snickers.
“What? I worked through lunch, trying to figure out a way to improve the extension of Draco’s grappling arm,” Shelly informed them.
“Well, that explains it then,” Jason said, looking at the other two men.
Shelly scowled, shoving the candy bar into her mouth. “That explains what?”
“Shelly, you get cranky when you don’t eat,” Raj said. “We could hear you and Lightning arguing in the hall from in here.”
Shelly rolled her eyes, trying to hide her embarrassment. She’d come to the conclusion on her own that she’d handled the situation with Commander Ripley badly from the start.
It had been an impulse that led her to ask Colonel Murphy if they could move Lieutenant Chambers up from the Beta team to the Alpha team to pilot Draco.
Dustin Chambers was the lead astronaut on Draco’s backup team. If anything happened to the crew on the Alpha team—the one led by Ripley—then the Beta team would take over.
Chambers had been gung ho about the mission from the start. He had shown up for all of the briefings and demonstrations and had exhibited particular interest in Shelly’s innovative designs.
He was the kind of astronaut she wanted to fly Draco.
When she’d asked Colonel Murphy the question, she’d only been half serious, knowing full well that Ripley’s fame and reputation would make it difficult to push him aside.
What she hadn’t counted on was Colonel Murphy telling Ripley that she’d made the casual, almost joking, inquiry. When he’d come to confront her, she couldn’t allow herself to back down.
But the hallway incident had been another story. Nothing had been more embarrassing than having Colonel Murphy sit them down like two high school delinquents.
This day had gotten completely out of control. Maybe the guys were right, she thought, turning to face her engineering team. Maybe she just needed to eat.
“Don’t worry, guys,” she told them. “I’m leaving to go rummage up some dinner right now. I promise I’ll show up well-fed Monday morning.”
Raj nodded. “You should stop at Moe’s. They have the best barbecue in Texas.”
“He’s not kidding. The sign actually says that. ‘Best Barbecue in Texas.’” Quincy laughed. “I took it upon myself to investigate that claim, and I haven’t found any better.”
“Damn,” Jason chimed in. “I wish my wife hadn’t already made dinner plans. Now I’m craving Moe’s.”
Shelly felt her tummy rumbling, and her salivary glands had gone into overdrive the minute they’d started talking about food.
“You all don’t have to say another word. I’m sold. Barbecue it is,” she declared.
When Shelly pulled into the parking lot of Moe’s Barbecue, it was a quarter to eight—prime time for the Friday-night-date and family-dinner crowd. The absolute worst time to show up at a restaurant alone.
Making up her mind to do carryout, Shelly marched into the restaurant and paused awkwardly in the foyer. With a name like Moe’s Barbecue, she was expecting red-checkered tablecloths and kitschy Western props adorning the walls. Although there was a folksy Western charm to the hardwood floors and the heavy wood and leather booths, the tables were covered in white linen and set with votive candles.
Finally, she spotted the bar in the back, and near the cash register, there was a long line of customers, which was discouraging. Before Shelly could make a break for it, a hostess appeared. “May I help you?”
Shelly bit her lip. “Actually, I was hoping to do carryout.”
The blond teenager smiled at her. “Carryout is in the back, but there’s already a bit of a backup. If you want faster service, you can sit at the bar.”
Shelly clutched her rumbling stomach. It had heard there was a chance for immediate food, and it wasn’t going to let her forget it.
“Thanks. I think I’ll do that,” she said, taking a menu from the hostess and making her way to the bar.
Luckily,