The Trouble with Texas Cowboys (Burnt Boot, Texas #2)(2)

The engine of the truck had barely died down, and Sawyer was still trying to make sense of the whole scene, when it sounded as if Gladys was coming back. Thank God! She’d been teasing about Jill not living at the house with her and now she was coming back to get her.

A truck door slammed, and Sawyer hurried to throw open the door. Hell, he’d even carry Jill out there, shotgun and all, and put her into the truck.

It wasn’t Gladys standing on the other side of the screen door. It was Betsy Gallagher.

“Evenin’, Sawyer. I heard you’d gotten moved in. Thought I’d stop by and ask you to Sunday dinner at my granny’s place,” she said.

Red-haired and cute as a button, Betsy was a member of one of the feuding families in Burnt Boot. He’d been warned about taking sides in any way, form, or shape, but with the mayhem that had just happened, his mind went blank and he couldn’t think of a reason why he couldn’t go to dinner with her.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Betsy asked.

“It’s a mess in here.” He stepped out on the porch.

“I heard that Jill Cleary was coming back to work for Gladys.”

“She is.” Sawyer still racked his brain, trying to come up with a plausible excuse not to go to dinner with her.

Betsy ran a hand down his arm and smiled up at him. “I expect you have lots to do, so I should be going. You can take me home from church on Sunday and have dinner with us, right?”

“I suppose,” he said.

“Good. I’ll see to it you have a good time.” She winked slyly.

He went back inside, threw himself on the sofa with a groan, and covered his eyes with his arm.

“What happened?” Jill asked.

A second knock brought Sawyer to a sitting position, but Jill was already on the way to the door. “I’ll get it,” she threw over her shoulder.

“Hello, Jill,” a masculine voice said.

Sawyer fell back and covered his eyes again. At least it wasn’t another woman out there asking for him.

“I heard you made it to the ranch this afternoon,” he said. “I’m Quaid Brennan. We met years ago when you were a little girl and visited Gladys. I thought I’d come over and invite you to come to the Brennan Sunday dinner after church, and I’d love it if you helped me teach Sunday school and sat with us in church. We’d sure enjoy making you welcome to Burnt Boot.”

“Sure, and thank you.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at nine for Sunday school, then?”

“That will be great.”

She shut the door and melted into a rocking chair beside the sofa. “Shit! Aunt Gladys is going to scalp me. She said I wasn’t supposed to get involved with either family, but I couldn’t think of a single excuse.”

“I know exactly how you feel. But if you sit with them in church, everyone is going to think you’ve joined up with that side,” Sawyer moaned.

“Dammit!”

“Hey, we’ll make it through the day and be home in the middle of the afternoon. Let’s get back to our cleaning and figure out an excuse if anyone else comes around.”

Another knock on the door stopped him before he could finish the sentence.

“Your turn,” she said.

He hauled himself up off the sofa, crossed the room, and slung the door open, praying that this time it would be Gladys, but it was Kinsey Brennan. He looked past her to the third truck in the driveway, to see Tyrell Gallagher sitting in the driver’s seat. Shit fire! Each side had sent a double team to Fiddle Creek to gang up on them.

“Hey, Sawyer. We haven’t been formally introduced, but I met you at your cousin’s wedding reception. I came to invite you to Sunday dinner.” She smiled.

Tall, willowy, blond, and brown-eyed, she looked like a runway model, but Sawyer had the perfect excuse all ready.

“I’m going to dinner with Betsy Gallagher,” he said.

“Oh, well then, you must give us equal time, darlin’.” She opened the screen door and stepped inside. Before he could take a single step back, her breasts were brushing against his chest. “You have to come to supper at the Brennan household. It’ll be more private anyway without the whole family there.” She picked up his hand and wrote a number in the palm. “This is my cell phone number. Call me at a quarter to six, and I’ll talk to you the whole way and give you instructions on how to get to River Bend. See you then.” She blew a kiss off the tips of her fingers and then touched his lips with her forefinger.

“Holy shit!” Jill said. “What’s going on?”

“News travels fast in a small town. They know you have arrived, and they’re going to swamp you with dates,” he said.

“But why?”

“Fiddle Creek, and you’re a damn fine-lookin’ woman.”

“But why you?”

“They just want to get rid of the threat. If one of those women can snag me, then that’s one cowboy out of their way,” he said.

“You sure about that?”

A heavy knock landed on the door.

“I bet you dollars to cow patties that’s a Gallagher wanting to take you to Sunday dinner,” he said.

She grimaced. “Maybe it’s for you.”

“If it is, tell the woman I’ve got the plague.”