One Texas Cowboy Too Many (Burnt Boot, Texas #3)(2)

“What makes you think that I ever even thought about riding?” she asked.

“The way you look at the cycle.”

“Well, it’s pretty unusual with those horns attached to the front.”

“Just lettin’ folks know that a cowboy rides that bike.” He chuckled.

Sawyer finished sacking her groceries and shoved a ticket across the counter for her to sign. “There’s a story about those horns, but he has to know you real well to tell you.”

She initialed the receipt and asked, “Would it be the same story as the one about the tat on his arm?”

One of Rhett’s eyelids slid shut in a slow, sexy wink. “It sure is, but it’s not a first-date story. It could be a third-date story.”

She was intrigued by the story, but she’d never see a third date with Rhett O’Donnell, because in order to get to that point, she’d have to have a first and second date. That would never happen no matter how many times he winked at her or how badly she wanted to ride the cycle or hear the story. Her grandmother hated motorcycles, and no one bucked up against Mavis Brennan.

Leah quickly changed the subject. “Dammit? Why would you give a dog such a name? Or is that a third-date story too?”

“No, it’s only a dog story.” Rhett smiled and the temperature in the store shot up several degrees. “I named him Lambert after Miranda Lambert, but I guess he didn’t like bein’ named after a girl, so he sat there like a knot on a log every time I called him. So I’d say, ‘Dammit, come here.’ And here he’d come runnin’ hell-bent for leather. So I gave up and called him Dammit.”

Leah reached to pick up two of the paper bags of groceries. “Smart dog. With a name like that, he sounds so mean that I bet all the other dogs leave him alone.”

“You are so right. Here, let me carry those out to your truck for you.” Rhett grabbed the two bags she had, and his fingertips brushed against her bare forearm. “They’re way too heavy for a cute little woman like you.”

Sawyer picked up the third bag. “What makes you think she drives a truck? Maybe she’s in a van or a car.”

“Leah is a truck kind of lady, and besides, there’s only one other vehicle in the lot besides your truck, Sawyer.” Rhett managed to open the door and stand to one side. “In the backseat or in the truck bed, ma’am?”

She had always imagined that Tanner’s touch would set her hormones to spinning like Rhett’s had just done. But she’d sure never thought a comment about what she drove would create a picture in her mind of making out in the backseat—or the bed—of her truck. Holy hell! Rhett had opened Pandora’s box and Leah had no idea how to handle it.

“Backseat is fine, and thank you,” she mumbled.

“Anytime. I understand there will be days I’ll be helping out in the store and at the bar, so maybe I’ll see you in one or either place this summer,” he said.

She nodded. “Burnt Boot is a small town. I’m sure our paths will cross.”

Rhett held the truck door open for her until she was settled into the driver’s seat, and then he slammed it shut. She started the engine but sat there for a few minutes watching them go back inside the store. She took one more long, envious look at that motorcycle before she pulled out onto the road and headed toward River Bend Ranch. The air conditioner shot semi-cold air right into her face. It would cool down more as she drove down the paved road to the dirt one that turned in to the River Bend Ranch properties, but it wouldn’t do a thing for the heat inside her body.

She slapped the steering wheel and inhaled deeply once she was out on the road. If she’d been a swearing woman, she would have turned loose every bad word in the dictionary. But Leah Brennan knew how to control her tongue and her thoughts. At least, she had until right at that moment.

“Dammit!” she said so loud that it bounced around in the truck and shot right back into her ears. “Damn cowboy has got me cussin’ and I don’t use that kind of language.”

*

“She’s one of the Brennans. I told you about the feud,” Sawyer said.

“Yep.” Rhett nodded. “But I expected old people with shotguns and chaws of tobacco in their mouths, not knock-your-socks-off drop-dead-gorgeous women.”

“Speakin’ of which.” Sawyer pointed.

“What?”

“More Brennans.” Sawyer nodded toward another truck pulling up in front of the store. “I can give you directions to the bunkhouse if you want to get on down there. Jill is waiting on y’all. She’s making one of her famous desserts.”

“Hell no!” Rhett grinned. “I’m not going anywhere. Store closes in fifteen minutes and you can lead the way to the bunkhouse.”

“And, besides, you do like to meet the pretty women, right?”

A burst of hot air followed two women into the general store. A tall, willowy blond with brown eyes stopped in her tracks not four feet from Rhett and slowly looked him up and down.

“You don’t look like a biker,” she said.

“Rhett, meet Kinsey and Honey Brennan,” Sawyer said, introducing them.

“Pleased to meet you both,” Rhett said. “Sisters?”

Honey, the dark-haired one with crystal-clear blue eyes shook her head. “Cousins.”