One Texas Cowboy Too Many (Burnt Boot, Texas #3)(6)

“After the store closes in the evening, folks can get milk and bread or beer in here,” Sawyer answered the unasked question.

“And I thought Comfort was a small town. I’m not sure this qualifies as a town.” Rhett chuckled.

Sawyer clamped a hand on his shoulder. “You’ll get used to it. Besides, you know what Grandpa says: To be a town, the place has to have a church and a place to buy beer or get a shot of whiskey. So by the O’Donnell qualifications, Burnt Boot passes the test.”

At nine o’clock, he’d filled a few pitchers of beer for folks who’d drifted in and out, and Sawyer had shown him the process of making burger baskets. Sparks danced around Jill and Sawyer every time they brushed against each other. It damn sure didn’t take a rocket scientist to know that their honeymoon wasn’t over.

Two lonesome old cowboys sat in a back corner drinking beer and telling tall tales. The jukebox had gone quiet and Rhett had wiped down the bar so often that it was shiny clean. If every night was like that, he’d have to bring some rope to make a bridle or something to keep himself from dying of complete boredom.

“Why don’t y’all go on home? I can handle it for the next couple of hours,” Rhett said.

“If you’re sure, we won’t argue.” Jill removed her apron and hung it on a nail.

Sawyer didn’t waste a bit of time hanging his apron right beside hers. “We damn sure won’t. Can’t remember the last time we got to go home before midnight. Sweep up and put the chairs on the tables. We don’t do mopping unless there’s major spills. Here’s the keys. Be sure to turn off the grill and the lights.”

“Will do.” Rhett rolled the sleeves of his white T-shirt and wiped down the bar one more time.

Jill and Sawyer were gone less than five minutes when the door flew open and suddenly the bar was crowded to capacity. Someone plugged money into the jukebox, and in seconds it was going full blast, playing “Boys ’Round Here” by Blake Shelton. Folks wasted no time getting out onto the dance floor and making a long line to do a line dance. The noise level went from zero to one hundred so quick that it took a while for Rhett’s ears to adjust.

“Hey, Rhett, we need three pitchers of beer and about six red cups,” Kinsey yelled from the end of the bar.

He quickly filled the pitchers, set them on the bar, and stacked up six plastic cups. Kinsey handed him a bill and he made change.

“And when you finish that, I need two longneck bottles of Coors,” Betsy said from the other end of the bar.

It kept him hopping, keeping the beer orders filled, the money straight, and making a few pitchers of margaritas. Then there was a lull, and there she was, sitting on a bar stool, her light green eyes watching him. His heart threw in an extra beat and his chest tightened.

“Well, hello, did you just fall from heaven?” he asked.

“I’ll have a double shot of Jack on the rocks, so the answer is no. I don’t think angels drink whiskey, but it is a fine line,” she answered.

“So you are a Tennessee whiskey lady?” he asked.

“Tonight I am,” she said.

A tall, blond-haired cowboy with blue eyes propped a hip on the bar stool beside her and nodded. “Hello, Leah.”

She nodded. “Tanner.”

“I guess you’re the new O’Donnell in Burnt Boot. Brett, is it?” Tanner eyed Rhett like he was trash left on the curb.

“Not Brett. My name is Rhett, after the hero in Gone with the Wind. My mama loves that book,” Rhett corrected him.

“Well then, hero Rhett, we need two more pitchers of beer over at our table.”

“Be right with you. And you’d be?”

“Tanner Gallagher of Wild Horse. Betsy’s cousin. If you’ve got any notion of asking her out, don’t. Granny wouldn’t like that.”

“And if I didn’t have any thought of asking her out?” Rhett set Leah’s whiskey in front of her on a white paper coaster.

“Then you’re probably crazy or gay. Which one is it?” Tanner asked.

“I like women.” Rhett grinned. “As for the crazy, that’s debatable. Some folks would agree with you, but no one has been brave enough or big enough to have me committed yet.”

“Smart-ass, are you?” Tanner asked.

Rhett filled two pitchers with beer and set them on the counter. Tanner handed him a bill and Rhett made change.

“You didn’t answer me. Are you a smart-ass, or do you back up your words with actions?” Tanner pushed the issue.

“No, I didn’t answer you.”

Tanner picked up the pitchers. “Are you going to?”

“Not today.”

“You don’t like us Gallaghers?”

Rhett picked up a bar rag and wiped down the bar where the pitchers had been. “Don’t know you Gallaghers.”

Tanner raised his voice loud enough so that everyone in the area could hear him. “Well, we know your kind, and we’d be happy to see you ride that motorcycle on back to where you came from.”

“What is my kind?” Rhett asked.

“Tanner, stop being a jackass and go talk to your little buddies,” Leah said.

Tanner scowled. “So the Brennans are going to take in this stray coyote?”

“Whether we do or not is none of your business, but you don’t have to be rude,” Leah answered.