The Trouble with Texas Cowboys (Burnt Boot, Texas #2)(3)

*

Jill answered the door, and there stood a tall, dark cowboy with pretty brown eyes. Lord, please let this be a Bible seller who’s lost his way and is looking for directions, she prayed.

Her prayer fell on deaf ears.

“Miss Jill Cleary, I swear you have grown up to be a gorgeous woman. The last time I saw you, you were in pigtails. You won’t remember me, probably. I’m Tyrell Gallagher. I heard you’d made it to town and I wanted to ask you to Sunday dinner.” His Texas drawl was sexy as hell, and he was easy on the eyes.

“Thank you for coming by and for the invitation, but I’ve already got dinner plans for Sunday,” she said.

“Well, then, darlin’, you could invite me inside,” Tyrell said.

“It’s a mess in here.” She used Sawyer’s line and stepped out on the porch like he’d done.

He pinned her against the rough wood wall of the bunkhouse with a hand on either side of her. “I can’t change your mind about dinner?”

“Sorry, but the plans are made.” She felt like a caged cat and fought the urge to holler for Sawyer to come save her.

“Then supper? We have two meals at Wild Horse on Sunday. Supper is buffet instead of a sit-down dinner, but you can still meet the family,” he whispered close enough that she caught the faint scent of peppermint gum over the top of whiskey.

“Okay,” she said. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at six. What’s your favorite color of roses?”

“I don’t have a favorite,” she said.

He took a step back and grinned. “Then red it is. I’ll see you Sunday.”

She hurried into the house, and Sawyer was gone from the sofa. Surely he hadn’t slipped out the back door and left her alone. I take back everything I thought about him when I first got here, Lord. Please don’t let him be gone. I’m going to need a friend and lots of support, she prayed again.

She had a moment of panic until he came from the kitchen with two opened bottles of beer in his hands. He handed one to her and downed a third of the other one before he went back to the sofa and sat down on one end.

“I thought you’d left me to the wolves all by myself. It was a scary moment. I don’t even know you, Sawyer O’Donnell, but please promise you’ll stick around.”

“I gave Gladys my word I’d stay for a year,” he said.

She exhaled loudly. “We got off on the wrong foot. I’m tired and weary from driving and worried that I made the wrong decision in coming here, so I’m sorry for aiming my gun at you.”

“Same here. I’m not a bit sorry that I took this job, but I wish to hell Fiddle Creek wasn’t right in the middle of two feuding families,” he said.

“I’m going to supper at the Gallaghers’ ranch and dinner at the Brennans’. At least no one can say I’m choosing sides,” she said with a long sigh as she plopped down on the other end of the sofa and kicked off her boots. “I shouldn’t sit down, or I’ll never get up and get this cleaning done. My feet hurt. My head is aching, and damn, Sawyer, why did I just agree to do two things I don’t want to do?”

He picked up her feet and put them in his lap, massaging the soles through her socks. “I’m going to Wild Horse for dinner and River Bend for supper, but believe me, it’s not happening but this one time,” he said. “I’ll be ready for them next time around.”

She dramatically threw a hand over her eyes. “Next time? Shit! We’re going to have to outrun them again? That feels so good. Did you ever think of leaving ranchin’ and going into massage work?”

“No, ma’am. My heart is in ranchin’, but it makes a person plumb cranky to have achin’ feet.” He cocked his head to one side, drew his eyes down, and asked, “What is that noise?”

“Sounds like thunder. Maybe if it rains, they’ll all stay on their asses at home and leave us alone so we can get this place cleaned up before dark. Thanks for the foot rub. It really did help.”

He cocked his ear to one side. “It’s not thunder. That’s cattle and four-wheelers.”

She set her beer down and ran to the back door. Sure enough, there were four-wheelers out in the distance. She couldn’t make out who was driving them, but she distinctly counted six.

Sawyer went the other way—to the front door. “I see three four-wheelers out on the far side, going toward the store. What the hell are they doing on Fiddle Creek?”

That’s when they saw the cattle stampeding toward the bunkhouse. She jumped back and slammed the door shut. “Shit fire, Sawyer! What is going on?”

“It’s a full-out stampede, but when they reach the bunkhouse, it’ll break their momentum and slow ’em down. Gladys is going to have a hissy. I see River Bend brands all mixed up with ours, and I was right, there’s Wild Horse brands in there too. Both sides must’ve had the same idea.”

“To cut fences and create havoc?” she asked.

“That’s the general definition of a feud,” he answered.

Gladys, Quaid Brennan, and Tyrell Gallagher all arrived at the same time, braking so hard that gravel spewed all over the front of the bunkhouse.

“You son of a bitch.” Tyrell jumped out of his truck and bowed up to Quaid, who had barely gotten his boots on the ground. “Why did you cut our fence and cause this mess?”