“I guess Kinsey let Betsy have the last word, because the last three songs have been line dancing ones,” she said. Hopefully talking about music would take her mind off the way those Wranglers fit Sawyer’s butt.
“Don’t speak too early, darlin’,” he said as the first single guitar notes started.
“Dear God,” Jill gasped.
Kinsey was in front of the jukebox, and when the haunting music of “I Know These Hills” came from the speakers, Jill recognized it immediately.
Every eye in the place darted between the two families, but when nothing happened, folks filled up the floor in a slow country waltz. Kinsey pointed at Betsy and smiled sarcastically. Betsy nodded and pointed back.
“That music haunts my soul every time I hear it,” Sawyer said.
“The singer is Sara Beck. Her tone reminds me a little of Alison Krauss,” Jill said.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Sawyer said. “Changing the subject here. What do you think would happen if a Gallagher fell in love with a Brennan these days? Like if Betsy went after Quaid?”
“God help Burnt Boot if they did.” Jill shuddered. “But in all honesty, I can’t see Betsy with Quaid. He’s way too tame for her. Maybe Declan or Eli, but not Quaid.”
The next song that played was “How Deep the Water Runs.” Sawyer and Jill both leaned on the bar. His hand covered hers when she shivered.
“It’s spooky after last week,” she said.
The third song was “Killing Season.” Kinsey’s eyes locked with Betsy’s, and neither of them blinked. The words said there’d be no rest in the killing season. When the lyrics mentioned the Lord’s Prayer and the devil’s law, Betsy blew Kinsey a kiss, turned her chair around, and raised her cup in a toast to all the folks at her table.
Sawyer brushed a quick kiss across Jill’s cheek. “Don’t let it get to you. We’re not going out tonight or any other night without taking precautions like we have all week.”
The next song was the theme song for the Hatfields and McCoys trailer, and the atmosphere in the bar changed immediately. They didn’t even listen to the words, but seats were pushed back, and people took the floor for a fast dance. Kinsey Brennan paired up with the lanky cowboy who’d jumped the river from over in Oklahoma, but her eyes strayed to the bar, and she winked at Sawyer several times.
A tall brunette grabbed Quaid’s hand, and Jill’s eyes came close to popping right out of her skull. That feller had some moves, and when he spun the woman out and brought her back to his chest, she did one of those wiggles that took her to the floor and slowly brought her back up again. Her eyes never left Quaid’s for a minute. Quaid flashed Jill a brilliant smile that left no doubt he was telling her that she was missing out on a very good thing.
“There’s more ways to kill someone than to shoot them,” Sawyer said when the dance ended and several people headed for the bar.
“And which one are we going to take care of first. Kinsey or Quaid?” Jill pulled up a fresh sheath of red cups and put in the dispenser. “I know I keep saying it, but I’m damn glad that we’ve got each other’s backs in this thing, Sawyer. Because tonight has fueled the feud even more than pork rinds and doggie treats.”
* * *
Like they’d done every night that week, they cleaned up after everyone left, and then Sawyer slipped outside, pistol in his hands. He waited by the truck while Jill locked the bar. Then she settled in and buckled up, and he did the same. Doors locked so there could be no surprises, he tucked the gun away in the console, and they drove home to the bunkhouse.
Jill kicked off her boots at the door and headed straight to the kitchen. “This is crazy, Sawyer. I feel like I’m playing a part in a movie.”
“Is it a drama or a comedy?” He sat down in a kitchen chair and removed his boots and socks, wiggling his toes on the cold floor.
“Little bit of both. I can’t get those songs out of my head.” She headed over to the rug where the kittens were curled up together, asleep in front of the warm stove.
“Me, either.” He wanted her to think about a spring pasture full of wildflowers and baby kittens. To get a picture in her head of something other than haunting music about feuding, fires of hell, and bloodletting.
“Mama says to never wake a sleeping baby, but I want to hold them and tell myself that tonight didn’t happen. The feeling I had was downright crazy in the bar,” she said.
“Mama knows best.” He took her hand in his and pulled her back to the sofa. His gaze went to her lips. He’d had her body against his when they’d slept together, but her lips fascinated him. Touching them made him forget everything around him but Jillian Cleary. It put them into a vacuum without stores, bars, ranches, and especially without feuds.
* * *
Jill’s gaze started at his eyelashes, which totally fascinated her. How could a thick bunch of dark hair be so seductive? Finally she let her eyes travel past his nose and to his lips. The music in her head wasn’t haunting, but it wasn’t upbeat either. It was like the background music to an old gospel hymn, peaceful with the promise of something eternal.
When she got to his slightly parted lips, the chemistry between them reached a brand-new height. His knuckles moved to trace her jawline, and then his hand splayed out, palm resting on her cheek, pinky teasing her ear, the rest holding her neck steady as his lips closed over hers.
Jill cupped his cheeks in her hands and took the first step to deepen the kiss. Desire fanned the fires of arousal until they were both panting. He moved from her lips to her neck, nuzzling, tasting, driving her crazy.
With one tug, all the snaps of his shirt popped open, and she buried her face in the soft black hair covering his bare chest. He groaned, and she shifted her weight until she was sitting in his lap.
It should not happen, but it was going to. Plain and simple. She wanted Sawyer. She needed him, and not even an act of God was going to stop what they’d started.
His hands circled her small waist and slowly made their way up under her shirt, massaging the tension from her muscles as he traveled upward. “You’d best say stop now if you are going to,” he said hoarsely.
“We’d be a hell of a lot more comfortable on your bed, and we wouldn’t wake the children,” she answered.
Think before you say yes, her inner voice said.
No, she argued. When you start to dissect something and analyze your findings, it’s already dead. And this feels so right.
He gave her one more chance. “Then you are not saying stop?”
She drew his lips down to hers and answered him with passion.
He picked her up and carried her to the bedroom, and she shut the door so the kittens wouldn’t disturb them. She slid down his frame and stood before him, eyes locked with his as she removed his shirt, undid his belt and zipper, and slid his jeans off.
“Commando.” She smiled.
He buried his face in her hair and said, “We call it goin’ cowboy, not commando. That’s for the military guys. Now it’s my turn, darlin’, and I open presents like I talk—real slow.”
His mouth started at her neck and moved down to the tops of her breasts, then suddenly the bra hooks were undone, and he slid both bra and shirt down her arms, covering every inch of her skin with kisses. She pressed her breasts against his chest, and her insides melted into a hot puddle.
Nothing was ever definite, but in that moment, Jill’s soul had found a permanent home. And Sawyer was definitely a part of it. He removed her jeans, bikini underwear, and socks, and walked her backwards to the edge of the bed.
“I need you.” Sawyer reached for a condom and quickly put it on.
“Not as bad as I want you.” She fell onto the bed and pulled him down on top of her. She arched, and he slid inside, his lips never leaving hers. The world disappeared. She and Sawyer were wrapped in a cocoon inside a vacuum. She heard nothing but
his hard breath and felt nothing but his body, lips, and hands. She wanted nothing but more and more of what Sawyer delivered.
She tried to hold back, but it wasn’t possible. “Sawyer,” she moaned, and the cocoon unraveled, the vacuum exploded, and he collapsed.
She reached up and cupped his face. “That was amazing.”
His lips found hers once more and he moved to one side, wrapping both arms around her and keeping her near. He pulled the covers over them and whispered, “Stay with me all night, Jill. Don’t leave.”
“My legs wouldn’t let me even if I wanted to,” she said.
Chapter 20
Jill stood under the shower, pulsating water rinsing the shampoo from her hair. For the first time since she’d arrived on Burnt Boot, she didn’t want to get rid of the barroom smell. The smoke and beer mixed together reminded her of the amazing night she’d spent with Sawyer.
She wrapped a towel around her wet hair and slipped her arms into a thick emerald-green terry cloth robe. Shutting her eyes, she went back to the previous night. Now it was time for the awkward moment when they had to say that it was a one-night stand and start dissecting things. Number one: they had to live together, so it was a bad idea. Number two: they had to work together at three different jobs, so it was a bad idea. Number three: neither of them really trusted in lasting relationships, so it was a bad idea.
A phone rang, and she recognized her aunt Polly’s ringtone, so she hurried out of Sawyer’s bedroom. Kittens chased her toes peeking out from the bottom of the robe as she almost dived to the sofa toward her phone and answered it on the fourth ring with a giggle.
“What’s so funny this morning?” Polly asked.
“Piggy and Chick.” Jill sat down on the sofa, and the two kittens climbed the tail of her robe all the way to her shoulder.
“And they are?”
“Kittens,” Jill said.
“Well, thank God you don’t have pigs and chickens living in the bunkhouse. Where did you get kittens?” Polly asked.
Sawyer put a cup of coffee in her hands and kissed her on the forehead. “Good mornin’,” he whispered.
“Do those cats talk?”
“No, that was Sawyer.”
“He’s a good man—that Sawyer is. You’d do well to wake up and see what’s right in front of your nose. Now tell me more about the kittens. Did y’all find that litter in Gladys’s hay barn? Old mama cat must’ve been gone, or you wouldn’t have gotten near them. She’ll scratch your eyes out if you even look at her babies.”
“Quaid brought in Ollie. I named her that after the pig in a kid’s movie about a spider and a pig. Then in a little bit, Tyrell brought in a yellow cat, and I named it Audrey after a chicken in another kid’s movie. But Sawyer calls them Piggy and Chick,” she said.
Polly guffawed. “Don’t tell Gladys. I want to tell her. The reason I called is to make sure you didn’t get kidnapped again after that craziness last weekend. Are you going to church this morning?”
“Of course. Sawyer is cooking breakfast. How about you?”
“No, not today. We see the doctor this week, and if they say I can start to use crutches, maybe we’ll try it next week. I hate this big boot thing on my foot, but Verdie keeps remindin’ me that it damn sure beats one of them old plaster casts. She’s coming over after church again, and we’re going to set up a Yahtzee game. You and Sawyer want to join us?”
“No, ma’am. We’re taking naps. Tell Aunt Gladys that we’ll be glad to do the evening chores if y’all get into a heated game. Do you still bet on the games?”
“Hell, yeah. It wouldn’t be any fun if we didn’t put some money on the table. Call us when y’all wake up, and we’ll talk about chores. Keep your head low and dodge any bullets in church. I heard the preacher went to both ranches, trying to set up a powwow to make peace, but neither Mavis nor Naomi is havin’ a bit of it.”
“That’s the gist of what I heard at the bar last night,” Jill said. “Things got tense, but no fighting.”
“Use that shotgun if you have to. That’s what it is there for. Most of the time folks don’t want to take a chance on whether or not you’ll shoot ’em, and they calm right down.”
“Waffles are ready,” Sawyer yelled from the kitchen.
“Go on and eat. Any man who cooks is a jewel to be treasured. Don’t keep him waiting,” Polly said.
The table was set for two, as usual, with one exception. Right smack in the middle was an old chipped crock cookie jar. Glazing cracks started at the bottom and wove their way in different directions, some on the sides, with others winding their way around in circles.
“Are we having cookies with our waffles?” Jill asked.
“Look at it closely.” Sawyer grinned. “Pay especially close attention to the lid.”
“Daisies.” She smiled.
“I would have gone out into the pasture and picked some wild ones for you, but it’s the wrong time of year. That’s all I could find with a daisy on it,” Sawyer said.
Rule number one, two, and three disappeared as she rounded the table and looped her arms around his neck. She rolled up on her toes and moistened her lips seconds before his mouth claimed hers in a scorching hot kiss that fried any remnants of future rules. He tugged at the belt of her robe, and his hands slipped inside to graze her rib cage and come to rest on her waist. Then in a flash, the kiss broke, and he picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed for the bedroom.
The towel fell off her hair, but she didn’t care. For such an up-close view of his cowboy ass underneath those flannel pajama pants, she’d gladly air-dry her hair upside down on the way to the bed, where other delicious things might happen.
Crunching truck tires on gravel brought him to an abrupt stop. She slid off, out of his arms, and her bare feet hit the floor in a hurry when a heavy door slammed. By the time someone was walking across the porch, Jill had picked up the towel and hurried off to her room.
She’d barely shut the door when she heard Sawyer’s voice coming from the kitchen. “Good mornin’, Gladys. You are just in time for breakfast. I was about to put the waffles on the table. I’ve got maple syrup and buttered pecan. Name your poison.”
“Maple sounds good. I’ll get out an extra plate. Where’s Jill?”
“She’s on her way. I yelled at her a few minutes ago. Did you hear about the tension in the bar last night?”
Jill hurriedly wrapped the towel back around her head, removed the robe, put on underpants and a bra, and then added pajama pants, a sleep shirt, and a pair of socks. “I thought I heard voices out here. Good mornin’, Aunt Gladys.”
“Good mornin’ to you. I’m glad to see that you are both safe this morning and not wandering around with Tilly, like you were last week. Where’d the cats come from?”
“The clashing cowboys gave them to her. The gray one is Piggy and the yellow one is Chick,” Sawyer said.
“I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but then I didn’t, Sawyer did, so Aunt Polly can’t be mad at me,” Jill said.
It took Gladys a minute, but when she caught on, she slapped a hand over her mouth and giggled like a schoolgirl. “Piggy Brennan and Chick Gallagher, right?”
“You got it.” Jill nodded. “You goin’ to church this mornin’?”
“No, I don’t want to leave Polly alone that long. Y’all keep your ears and eyes open. Something is brewing. After that stunt with the pork rinds and the dog treats this week, I can feel it in the air. I’ll pour the coffee.”
Jill glanced over her shoulder toward the end table where she’d left her cup, but it was gone. When she looked back at Sawyer, he winked.
“I’ll get the butter and syrup,” Jill said.
“Y’all got cookies in that old jar?” Gladys asked.
“No, I found it in the cabinet and put it on the table,” Sawyer answered.
&n
bsp; Jill touched the lid. “I might make cookies in the store tomorrow to fill it up. Last week when we were making chili in the back room, lots of folks bought chili meat and beans. If they smell cookies, maybe they’ll buy chocolate chips and sugar.”
Gladys set three cups at the right places and pulled out a chair. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. I bet folks do buy more when the store smells like food. Bring on the waffles, Sawyer. You reckon you could make up another batch, so I could take some to Polly?”
“Got plenty of batter already made up,” Sawyer said. “Just before you leave, we’ll get them ready for her.”
* * *
The kittens entertained Sawyer that morning as he waited for Jill to get dressed for church. He could hear her mumbling about something through closed doors, but he couldn’t understand a word she said. When his phone rang, the kittens shot under the sofa and peeked out cautiously.
“Good mornin’, Mama,” he said when he’d looked at the Caller ID.
“Are you all settled in and ready for church this morning?” she asked.
“Yes, I am.”
“Then why haven’t you called?”
He sat up straighter. “Been busy gettin’ settled in.”
“Oh, is that the story? Well, Finn’s mama has called me several times, so don’t give me that tall tale. I don’t care if you are thirty or forty or ninety. As long as I’m alive, I should not have to hear about you through relatives. And now that I’ve fussed at you, tell me about Jill Cleary. Callie says she’s quite a woman and that she likes her. I trust Callie’s judgment.”
“Jill is Gladys’s great-niece,” he started.
His mother cut him off immediately. “I know who she is. I know what she looks like. I want to know what you think of her, and if this is going to be a…” She paused.
The Trouble with Texas Cowboys Page 19
