“Peas,” Gladys said. “Y’all might want to change your minds. Their peas are like Granny used to make, with plenty of bacon.”
“Then bring us an extra side of peas, and we’ll share it,” Sawyer said.
“Just to get something straight here before we finish and she brings the ticket, this dinner is on me. Y’all are supposed to have Sunday off,” Gladys said.
“Make a deal with you.” Sawyer grinned. “I’ll help take care of feeding this evening if you’ll throw dessert in too. I saw pecan pie on the menu.”
“Ahh, man!” Jill groaned.
“You don’t have to help.” Sawyer touched her knee under the table.
She covered his hand with her own and squeezed. Her hand was cold, even through the denim of his jeans. Was she telling him that she wanted to help so that they’d have time to engage in wild, passionate sex? He smiled at that thought and mentally went about undressing her right there in the restaurant.
“Yes, I do have to help,” Jill said. “Pecan pie is my favorite dessert ever, and I’ll help with chores for a slice of it. It’s raining so hard, we won’t even be able to see where we are driving when we start home. I hope it’s slacked off before it’s feeding time.”
Another squeeze. Which kind of driving was she talking about? He’d be willing to crawl into the backseat of his truck in the pouring rain and drive in a whole different way than making a truck go forward or backward.
“You’ll be able to see just fine in about thirty minutes. Those clouds are on the move. They aren’t settling down to stay. They’re passing through,” Sawyer said. “I should tell you that Finn called before we left and offered to come help if we needed it. He’d heard that the rain was headed our way and didn’t want us to get all the cattle sorted out in vain because we couldn’t see to fix the fence in the downpour. I told him we’d take a rain check on dinner at Salt Draw.”
Jill picked up his hand and moved it into his own lap. When he glanced her way, it was evident that the warmth in the café had little to do with the high color in her cheeks. So her mind had plummeted straight into the gutter, or was it the bedroom in this case too? He grinned and turned his attention to the food the waitress set before him.
“Yes, ma’am, they are some fine peas,” he said when he tasted the black-eyed peas.
“Yep, just like Granny made, both of my grannies,” Jill agreed.
If every thought hadn’t been sexual in the last ten minutes, it might not have felt like they were sharing a hell of a lot more than a bowl of Southern-style black-eyed peas. The feeling they shared over that bowl of peas solidified his thinking—that he was right where he should be at this time in his life and everything was going down the right path.
The rain had slowed to a few sprinkles when they left the café, and the sun was shining brightly when Sawyer parked the truck in front of the bunkhouse. “It’s four o’clock. I’ll load the feed, and we’ll get the evening chores done, and then I need to give my mama a call.”
“Too late for a nap, though,” Gladys said. “I’m going to help you kids with the chores. If I sleep now, I’ll be awake half the night.”
“I’m going inside and putting on a pair of jeans and an old shirt. It’s a wonder I got any kind of job done in this straight skirt when it came to fixin’ fence,” Jill said. “And then I’m going to play with Piggy and Chick. I bet they missed us, Sawyer. I won’t be long, and I promise to pet them only one time before I come back out to help with chores.”
* * *
Something Sawyer said about the clouds being on the move and not settling down stuck in Jill’s mind as they fed and watered the cattle that evening. Was she like that? Would she tire of the whole Burnt Boot scene and hurry to another place and another job before spring?
Sitting so close to him in church, working side by side with him to get the cattle taken care of and the fence fixed, then pressed up against his side in the café, had put nervous flutters in her gut. She wasn’t sure if the message was to fly or plant roots. Maybe feeling right was nothing more than an elusive butterfly.
“Did you call your mama?” she asked as she cut open the last bag of feed.
“I did, but it went to voice mail. She forgets her cell phone most of the time when she leaves the house. I left a message,” Sawyer answered.
“Oh. My. Sweet. Jesus.” Gladys pointed over the fence into Wild Horse territory.
“What? Is another one cut? Dammit to hell!” Jill said.
“I don’t see any dangling barbed wire,” Sawyer said.
“Stop the truck. Those big old fancy blondie cattle of Naomi’s are all gone. That means they’re in with my cows,” Gladys said.
Sawyer hopped out of the back of the truck and opened Jill’s door. “Why are we stopping here? The cattle are used to being fed closer down to the end of the pasture.”
“Naomi’s fancy cows are missing from the pen, and Aunt Gladys is checking to see how they got out.”
He put his hands on her waist and helped her out like an old-time cowboy would take his woman from a wagon seat. “Well, shit! We’ll be out here past dark.”
“Y’all two drive on down to the feeding spot, and I’ll walk the fence line,” Gladys yelled.
Sawyer brushed a quick kiss on Jill’s lips and said, “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.” He picked her up and settled her back into the passenger’s seat and whistled around the truck.
“So why didn’t you?” she asked when he’d buckled into the old work truck.
“Are you getting testy with me?”
“Maybe, if you’re too ashamed of me to kiss me in public,” she said. “Or hold my hand in church.”
“Are you picking a fight because you don’t want to continue this relationship?” he asked.
“Why would you ask a fool question like that?”
“Because I’ve done the same thing more than once the past two years. Start getting close to a commitment and then do some serious backpeddling. You’ve probably done the same thing since your last breakup, so I understand if you want to slow this wagon down. But let me say something, right now and right here. I’m not ashamed to kiss you, hold your hand, or to stand up in church and tell the whole damn lot of the people in Burnt Boot that we are dating and we are an item,” he said. “I’ll be damned!”
“What?” she mumbled.
He was out of the truck and pointing before she realized what he was talking about.
“The cattle on this side of the fence all have Fiddle Creek brands. There’s not a fancy blondie in the mix,” he said. “We might as well feed our herd and tell Gladys to stop walking the fence row. And, Jill, I meant what I said.”
Jill inched her phone up out of her hip pocket and called Gladys. “There’s nothing down here but Fiddle Creek cows,” she said when Gladys finally answered on the fourth ring.
“Looks like their herd, all but for one rangy old heifer, has disappeared like the Brennans’ hogs. I wonder if Wallace will be giving us a good price on beef next week.” She laughed.
“Aunt Gladys! Have you been buying stolen pork?” Jill asked.
“Wallace told me he bought those pigs fair and square, and he had the receipts to prove it,” Gladys said. “I was making a joke. Rain has probably washed away any tracks, and I’ll bet you that the fence problem up close to the road this morning was a distraction to bring all the guards to the south for help.”
“Smart Brennans,” Jill said.
“Oh, honey, Naomi Gallagher is going to shit little green apples when I make the call to tell her that her precious new breed is all gone but one heifer,” Gladys said.
“Ain’t life a bitch?” Jill hit the “end” button and turned around to find Sawyer so close that she had to put out her hands to keep from crashing into him.
His arms circled her waist, and he gazed down into her eyes.
“What’s a bitch?”
“Life. Looks like the Brennans created a diversion and stole all those highbred cattle. There’s only one lonesome old heifer left over in that pasture.”
Sawyer set her up on the tailgate of the truck. “You give a damn about that heifer right now?”
She shook her head.
He lowered his lips to hers, claiming them in a blistering-hot kiss that cold afternoon. When he broke the kiss, his brown eyes still captured hers and held them without blinking. “I mean it, Jill. I like where we are headed, and I don’t want to stop, but I will slow down.”
She put a gloved hand on each of his cheeks and drew his lips to hers for another searing kiss. When she broke, her eyes bored into his. “I’m not sure what I want, but I know I don’t want to stop completely.”
“Fair enough,” he said. “Let’s kick this hay off the truck and go get Gladys. Damned pig war sure has a habit of getting in my way.”
Chapter 22
There had to be more to wooing a woman than feeding cattle, minding the store, tending the bar, and sex. That wasn’t a bad combination in getting to know a woman, but now that he knew Jill, he wanted to hang the moon for her, make the stars brighter, and force daisies to grow from frozen ground.
“Shit! I forgot,” he murmured.
“You talking to me?” she asked.
Kittens scrambled over her lap, chasing each other, rolling around like clumsy wrestlers as they bit each other’s tails and ears. In the beginning, Chick was the mean girl, spitting and scaring the bejesus out of Piggy, but these days it was a pretty even match.
“I need to call my mama, or else she’ll get in her truck and drive up here,” Sawyer answered.
“I probably should call my mama too, but I’m sure that neither wild horses nor the National Guard could force her to drive to Texas, or even to fly here, though.”
Sawyer carried two cups of hot chocolate to the living area and handed one to Jill. “So she doesn’t like Texas? Do I hear a ‘but’ in your voice?”
“You do. But there’s only one love in a lifetime like what she and my dad had. She still gets misty eyed when she talks about him, and Texas reminds her of him,” Jill said.
“You think you’ll ever find that love?” Sawyer asked.
Jill thought about the question so long that he didn’t think she was going to answer, but finally she said, “Maybe I will. Do you?”
“If I think with my heart and not with my brain.” Sawyer scooped her up from the floor, amazed like always that someone with so much power and energy didn’t weigh a lot more. He buried his face in her hair and hoped the kittens didn’t get underfoot as he carried her toward his bed. “I do not plan on letting my head lead my heart ever again.”
“Me, either. Don’t forget to shut the door,” she said.
Gently, he set her on the bed, and with a few soft, well-placed kisses, he undressed her, then patted the pillow. “Welcome to Sawyer O’Donnell’s massage parlor. The hot rocks are out of commission today, but I’m available for a sixty-minute massage if the lady would like one.”
“Oh, my God, Sawyer! You didn’t tell me there was a lady in the room. Give me my clothes,” she joked.
“Then I’ll rephrase. Does this sexy, hotter’n hell spitfire of a redhead want a massage today? I could make a phone call if you’d like the ultimate in hot rocks, scented lotion, and all the fancy words in the sex-to-sexty dictionary. Would you like Tyrell or Quaid?”
She flipped over and glared at him. “Don’t you ever do that again.”
“What?”
“Bring up those two names in this bedroom when I’m stark naked.” Her eyes said that she wasn’t teasing or flirting. “Now, here’s the deal. I want a massage, and I hear that hunky cowboy named Sawyer is available. But the only way he’s going to get paid is if he takes his clothes off to do my massage. Because when I get ready to pay him, I damn sure do not want to take time to undress him.”
“Your wish and all that…” He kicked off his boots, and his clothing landed somewhere near the end of the bed, a piece at a time thrown over his shoulder.
* * *
“Where did you learn to do that?” Jill moaned when he dug his thumbs into her shoulder muscles. “No, don’t tell me. I don’t even want to know. Is there anything you can’t do?”
“I don’t knit.” He chuckled. “I’m sorry all I’ve got for lotion is this cherry-almond stuff from Walmart. I buy it because it’s the best I’ve found for my hands when they get chapped.”
“It’s my favorite,” she said.
His hands moved down her back to the rib area, turning gentle as he worked the kinks out and then harder as he massaged her butt muscles. She could farm him out and make more money than ranching. All she needed was a number machine to nail to the front porch and…suddenly a vision of Betsy lying naked on the bed popped into her mind.
“Hey, you aren’t supposed to tense up. You’re supposed to relax and let me work magic on those tired, overworked muscles,” Sawyer said.
She blinked away the image of Betsy’s face and forced herself to unwind. The Gallaghers and the Brennans were not going to spoil her Sunday evening. She didn’t give a damn if Wallace did slaughter the pigs and already had those fancy cows packaged up into hamburger meat. She had a naked cowboy giving her the best massage she’d ever had.
When Sawyer finished with her toes, he flipped her over and started back up the front side. Lord, God, almighty! She’d never be able to put lotion on her hands again without thinking of his hands as they discovered every single erogenous zone on her body. That little space between the pad of her foot and her toes, the inside of her knees, halfway up her thighs, and the soft spot where her leg attached to her body—how could they make her hormones hum like a finely tuned fiddle?
By the time he got to her aching breasts, she was fighting to keep her back straight and not arch toward him, to keep from pushing him over on his back and riding him in unabandoned hot sex. But she wanted passionate lovemaking, not a five-minute quickie.
Listening to your heart, are you? the voice in her head asked.
She floated so high above reality that she didn’t even argue or answer.
He ended the massage by kissing all her fingers, one by one, and then he settled himself on top of her, his mouth finding hers in a kiss so full of passion that all semblance of gravity escaped. She wrapped her legs around his waist and arched against him. Quickie. Two hours. All night. Five minutes. She couldn’t bear another minute without him inside her.
“Now?” he asked.
“I should return the massage, but, holy shit, Sawyer, I can’t even think,” she panted.
He slid into her body in one fluid movement, and they rocked together. She clung to him, fingernails pressing into his back, and legs locked around him. His kisses deepened, and her hands moved to his cheeks and then up to grasp his hair. She wanted to touch him, all of him, so her hands roamed from shoulders to his firm butt, down his legs as far as she could reach, and back again.
He took her to the very brink of an exploding climax and then backed off to let her cool down before building up the tempo again. “Open your eyes, Jill, so I can see down to the bottom of your soul,” he said between short gasps.
“All you’ll see right now is a red-hot desire for you,” she answered, then pulled his lips to hers for another searing kiss.
He grinned. “Then keep your eyes open and let me see that.”
It was cold in the room, but every inch of her body was on fire. Her toes curled. Her body ached with desire.
“Now?” he asked.
“Three hours ago,” she answered.
She imagined a cliff overlooking a deep blue sea. She’d climbed to the top, and when Sawyer said her name in a hoarse Texas drawl, she wrapped both arms around his back and growled his name as they tumbled into
the cool water together.
When he could catch his breath, he rolled to one side, but he didn’t let go of her. “Hot damn!” he muttered.
“You got that right.” She snuggled as close to him as she could get and shut her eyes. She wouldn’t sleep. She’d just stay there until her wobbly knees could take her to her own bedroom. But in two minutes she’d drifted off into that wonderful place that consenting adults go when the sex is so damn good they can’t move a muscle afterward.
Jill dreamed of a pasture full of bright yellow daisies with half a dozen kids romping around at a picnic. Little red-haired girls dressed in denim shorts and cowboy boots. Dark-haired boys in boots and jeans. And there was Sawyer, a little older with a few shots of gray in his temples, but he still looked at her with the same brown-eyed wonder that she’d seen right before they’d fallen asleep.
She awoke to the sound of running water and whistling. A quick glance toward the clock said that it was five o’clock. That had to be morning, not evening, because the last time she checked, it was past six. Her feet hit the cold floor, and she did a quick tiptoe dance to the bathroom, where she threw back the shower curtain and stepped in front of Sawyer.
“Good mornin’.” He grinned. “I was going to let you sleep while I went out to do the chores. There’s a cold, blustery wind blowing. Even Piggy and Chick are hugging the woodstove this morning.”
“Thank you, but I’m wide awake. We can make breakfast, and then after we eat, we’ll do chores. I hate to even think about that day coming when this is in my hands.”
“Come summer we’ll hire some help for the ranch. Gladys says she gets half a dozen boys to come and help soon as school is out. Polly should be well, and things will let up a little then.” Sawyer picked up the shampoo, poured out a healthy amount on her hair, and worked it in from top to bottom. “Now turn around, and I’ll rinse it all away before we use the conditioner. Your hair is silky, Jill. With all those curls, you’d think it would be wiry, but it’s not.”
“Neither is this.” She touched the soft dark hair on his chest.
The Trouble with Texas Cowboys Page 21
