One Texas Cowboy Too Many (Burnt Boot, Texas #3)

One Texas Cowboy Too Many (Burnt Boot, Texas #3)

Carolyn Brown



Chapter 1


The rumbling noise of a motorcycle took Leah Brennan’s attention away from the produce in the Burnt Boot General Store. She pushed her cart up a few feet so she could see out the front window, expecting to see leather, chains, and shiny, black biker’s helmets on maybe half a dozen cycles after all that noise. It had sounded like part of the Hell’s Angels gang had come to town, so she was surprised when only one person removed his helmet and hung it on steer horns mounted on the front of the cycle. And she was even more surprised when a cowboy dismounted instead of a biker.

It was impolite to stare, but Leah couldn’t tear her eyes away from the newcomer, especially when Sawyer O’Donnell shot out from behind the checkout counter and rushed outside. Horses and four-wheelers on the streets of the little town weren’t unusual, but motorcycles were an altogether different matter, especially a big, tricked-out Harley with enough chrome on it to blind the angels. He met Sawyer in one of those fierce man hugs that involve a lot of slapping on the back and laughter.

She moved to a different vantage point so she could get a better look at the cowboy. His wavy, dark hair was wet with sweat and hung in ringlets to his shirt collar. He fetched a rubber band from the pocket of his tight jeans and whipped it back into a short, little ponytail. Green eyes sparkled beneath heavy brows, and a little soul patch of dark hair rested beneath lips that stretched out in a wide smile. A green-and-yellow plaid shirt hung open to reveal a damp, white T-shirt clinging to a perfect six-pack. He removed the overshirt and slung it over his shoulder, revealing a tat of longhorns on his right arm.

Her breath caught in her chest, and she forgot to exhale for several seconds. Her biggest fantasy, other than someday marrying Tanner Gallagher, was to ride on a cycle, holding on to a cowboy like the one talking to Sawyer O’Donnell. Neither one would ever happen, but it didn’t hurt to dream.

They wasted no time getting out of the hot July sun and into the cool store, and Sawyer motioned to her as soon as he shut the door. “Hey, Leah, come on up here and meet my cousin Rhett O’Donnell. He’s going to live on Fiddle Creek and help us out. We wanted him to join us last spring, but he had to fulfill another contract. But he’s here now and believe me, we can sure use him. Rhett, this is Leah Brennan.”

She pushed her cart to the checkout counter.

“Right pleased to meet you, ma’am.” Rhett smiled and held out a hand.

She put her hand in his and his deep-green eyes bored into hers. She felt as if he could see all the visions in her head and hear her unspoken thoughts. Two spots of high color filled her cheeks and hot little vibes danced around the room. She quickly pulled her hand away from his and latched tightly on to the cart handle.

She could almost hear the gossip flying about Rhett O’Donnell and his tricked-out motorcycle, but that cowboy was way, way too wild and exciting for Leah Brennan. She bit back a sigh as she said, “Welcome to Burnt Boot.”

“Leah is a teacher over at the school on River Bend Ranch,” Sawyer said.

“None of my teachers were ever so pretty,” Rhett drawled.

Sawyer chuckled. “No, they weren’t.”

“Thank you.” Leah smiled. “If you’ll charge these things to River Bend, Sawyer, I’d appreciate it.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Sawyer said.

It was easy to see that Sawyer and Rhett were cousins. They had the same angles in their faces, and they were the same height. Sawyer’s skin was the color of coffee with lots of pure cream and his eyes were brown, giving testimony that he had some Latino in his background. But while Rhett’s skin was as brown, it looked more like a deep tan from working out in the sun all summer.

Rhett’s green eyes were rimmed with dark eyelashes so thick that most women would commit homicide to have them. He’d better be able to run fast in those cowboy boots, because the women in Burnt Boot were probably already getting their jogging shoes out and cleaned up. A picture of her old, well-worn pink shoes with a white swoosh on the side came to mind. They were sitting beside the nightstand in her room. She’d worn them last Sunday when she went to the river to do some fishing.

Get ahold of yourself, Leah Brennan. Good God, girl! She scolded herself. You don’t get all woozy just lookin’ at a new cowboy in town.

She stole glances at that soul patch and the lip above it. What would it be like to kiss those lips? Or to wrap her arms around that broad chest with her breasts pressed against his back as she rode on the back of that cycle?

“That’s an interesting motorcycle. Did you ride from very far away?” Her voice sounded a bit hollow in her own ears, but his eyes were locked on hers again and it flat-out made her antsy.

“I personalized it.” He smiled. “I had a good long ride up across the state from down near Comfort, Texas. My sister and her husband are almost here too. They’re bringing my truck and all my belongings with them, including Dammit. That would be my dog, not a cussword. Do you ride?”

Leah shook her head. “No, never have ridden on one. Is that really your dog’s name?”

Rhett’s head bobbed up and down. “It really is his name. Did you ever wonder what it would be like to have the wind blowing past you at seventy or more miles per hour?”

Could he read her mind? Surely he couldn’t read minds. Holy Mother of God, what if he did and he knew what she was thinking when she looked at his lips?