The Trouble with Texas Cowboys (Burnt Boot, Texas #2)(23)

“Nope, I ate half a pie after I didn’t finish my dinner at the Gallaghers.” He grinned. “Shoo!” He flipped his hands out to motion her away. “Go change clothes six times and stand in front of the mirror. I’ll tell you if your jeans make your butt look fat.” He flopped back down on the sofa, shut his eyes, and stretched out his long legs until his feet rested in her lap.

She shoved them off and stood up. “You are horrible.”

“I’m your roommate, darlin’, not your relationship. Roommates are honest with each other.”

“In that case, darlin’,” she said, “your soup needs a little more picante sauce to make it good.”

“Ouch!” He opened one eye. “You don’t have to talk mean about my soup because your butt looks fat in them low-ridin’ jeans.”

She flounced off to her room. He made her mad, but at the same time he kept her from thinking about another long evening, trying to remember people’s names that she had no intention of ever seeing again outside of the store and the bar.

She changed four times, not six, and she looked at her rear end every time. He was right—the low-riding jeans did make her butt look bigger than the ones that sat a little higher.

At five o’clock on the button, a loud, demanding knock sent her out of her room and across the floor. “Why didn’t you let him in? It’s cold out there,” she fussed at Sawyer.

“Ain’t my boyfriend or my roses. I don’t give a shit if he freezes and the roses have ice on them,” Sawyer mumbled as he flipped over so his back was to the room.

She slapped him on the shoulder when she passed by. “You are horrible.”

“Maybe so, but my soup is fine the way it is, and your butt looks almighty fantastic in them jeans. If you shoot a game of pool, at least the top of your thong underbritches won’t show. Have a good time. I’ll wait up for you.”

“Don’t bother. I know how to get inside. And right back at you on the good-time shit. We’ll compare notes when I get home.”

“Alone? Remember our pact.”

“Hush,” she hissed and then put on her best fake smile as she opened the door. “Hello, Tyrell. You are right on time.”

“One perfect red rose for one perfect red-haired beauty.” He held out a long-stemmed rose wrapped in cellophane. “Each time we go out, I will add a rose to the ones I bring you, but none will ever be as important as this one.”

“Why is that?”

“Because today is the first day of a perfect relationship that will last forever,” he said as he put the rose in her hands.

“Sawyer, I’m putting my rose on the table right inside the door. Will you please put it in water?”

One thumb shot up over the back of the sofa.

“Thank you, Sawyer. And thank you, Tyrell. It’s truly beautiful.”

“I see you already have your coat on and, darlin’, that rose can’t compare to your beauty. I’m going to be the envy of all the Gallaghers at the party tonight.” He crooked his arm, and she slipped hers through it.

Wild Horse Ranch’s setup was a lot like the one for River Bend. Different families had their own acreage, but the whole thing combined to make Wild Horse. It all bordered on Fiddle Creek. He drove down his lane and showed her where his long, low ranch house, with a sweeping porch around three sides, sat in a pecan copse before he took her to the main house.

There wasn’t a valet at the Gallagher place, and they were one of the last ones to arrive, so they had to walk from the truck to the house. He laced his fingers in hers and didn’t let go until they were inside the warm house. He helped her remove her coat and whistled under his breath, “Whew! Darlin’, you really are a knockout in that getup. You look like you should be modeling for a Western-wear company.”

She wore a black shirt with long, billowy sleeves caught up at the wrists with white pearl snaps on the cuffs. A gold scarf pendant with crossed six-guns over angel wings hung from the center of a black lace scarf, and a matching belt buckle cinched in a pair of black jeans.

“Well, thank you. I hope I’m not overdressed.”

“Honey, you could have worn a burlap bag with a rope around your waist, and I would have thought I’d brought the princess to the ball, but, wow,” he said.

“Well, look at you!” Betsy met them at the door into the oversized great room. “Tyrell, you lucky dog. I believe she’s gotten all dolled up for you. You did leave the pitcher of beer at home, I hope. I’m here to steal you away and introduce you to my grandmother, Naomi. Sorry, Tyrell.”

“I’ll be around to collect her in a few minutes, so don’t let Granny get started on her long stories,” Tyrell said.

Naomi Gallagher spun around on a bar stool and motioned toward Betsy. She was a short woman with delicate features, few wrinkles, and dark green eyes.

“I see where you get your red hair,” Jill said.

“Oh, yes, and my temper and my controlling nature. And my hang-on-like-a-bulldog-until-I-get-what-I-want attitude. It all comes from her. I bet you’ve got one like her in your woodpile.”

Jill nodded. “Yes, I do.”

“Well, would you look at this? You grew up to be a beautiful woman, Jillian. I’m glad you’ve had the good sense not to dye your red hair. That speaks volumes to me,” Naomi said.