The Trouble with Texas Cowboys (Burnt Boot, Texas #2)(36)

Jill heard him, rounded the end of the bar, jerked the sawed-off shotgun out from under the counter, jacked a round into it, and said, “Okay, boys, it’s like this. Polly’s is neutral. If you two want to play big bad cowboys in your pig-shit war that’s going on between your families, you’ll do it outside this place. Understood?”

“Anything you say, princess.” Tyrell grinned.

“Quaid?” she asked.

“I hear you, gorgeous,” he said. “Now put that gun away.”

Tyrell pointed toward the whiskey on the counter behind Jill. “I think you are sexy, holding it like that. Want to do some target practice with me tomorrow afternoon? We’ve got a real nice shootin’ range on Wild Horse. I’ll start off with a double shot of Jack Daniel’s tonight, and then it’ll be beer for the rest of the evening.”

“I’m not going out with either of you ever again. I don’t like this feud crap, and I don’t intend to be a part of it,” she said.

“Little late there, not after what you said to me today,” Kinsey stated. “You’re in this whether you want to be or not. You should have kept your mouth shut. Now, to you, Sawyer, darlin’. I’m going to knock on your door Sunday morning, and you are going to church with me if I have to handcuff your hand to mine.”

“Jill and I have plans on Sunday, folks, so that’s the end of our part in your feud. What can I get you, Quaid?” Sawyer asked.

“Beer for both of us,” Quaid said. “In the bottle instead of the mug. We’ll take them to a table and wait for the rest of our party.”

“That was too easy,” Sawyer said. “Something is going on.”

Jill shivered from head to toe. “I can feel it too. It’s a good thing we’re together, or they’d tear us to pieces.”

People kept arriving until the bar was too full for another person to get inside. Gallaghers took up one end; Brennans the other. The stools were full, the music loud, and the dance floor crowded. Jill patted the shotgun under the counter and smiled up at Sawyer. “I had no idea Aunt Polly had this thing in here, but I’m damn glad that she does.”

*

Sawyer sprawled out on the sofa, long legs out in front of him and his head thrown back so far that he was looking at the ceiling. “Lord, it’s been a day and a half. Thank goodness tomorrow is Sunday. Chores and then church and then we’re going to nap all afternoon.”

“In a motel?” she asked.

“We’ll let everyone think we’re going into town, but I vote we slip back here, have some canned chili and doughnuts for dessert, and lock the doors. We can turn off our phones and sleep until Monday morning.”

She flopped down on the other end of the sofa and stretched out until her feet were in his lap. Without sitting up, he picked up one and started massaging it. “It’s tiring, but we’re not doin’ too bad keepin’ up with three jobs.”

“Wouldn’t be any big deal if it wasn’t for the feud shit in the middle of it. What do you think they’re plannin’ next?”

“I think the Gallaghers done stepped in the deep water over them pigs. But forget the feud, I’d rather talk about the woman that these feet belong to and when she’s going to pay up with a kiss.”

“Right now that woman is so tired that she’s about to fall asleep, and she still needs to take a quick shower. Reckon she could use your bathroom if she hurries?”

He sat up straight. “She can even fall backwards and sleep in my bed if she wants to. This old cowboy would be too tired to even kiss her good night. And he’s glad that she’s saving that kiss for later, when he has the energy to kiss her back.”

She stood up and stretched, then leaned down and brushed a quick kiss across his forehead. “That’s not the bettin’ kiss, but a thank-you kiss for having my back.”

He grabbed her around the neck and pulled her into his lap. “Well, then this one is my thank-you for the same.” The kiss was lightning and fire mixed together.

She pushed herself up out of his lap. “That, Sawyer, was a mind-boggling kiss. Now good night. I’m going to take a shower and go to bed. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He sat there for a long time after she’d gone to her own side of the bunkhouse. Ten days ago he was content in his peaceful little world. Now everything was upside down, and yet he hadn’t felt so alive in ages.





Chapter 11


It wasn’t a little snore but one that rattled the windows in the church. Thank goodness the preacher had said something everyone agreed with, and more than a dozen deep drawls around them had hollered, “Amen!”

Jill poked Sawyer on the shoulder.

His head popped up. “What? Is it over?”

“You were snoring,” she said softly.

For the rest of the service she kept a watch on him. If his eyes shut, she touched his thigh. If his chin started toward his chest, she squeezed his thigh.

The church was packed in the middle, but the two sides were sparse. The Brennan side was represented fairly well, but Mavis wasn’t there. Too bad she’d stayed home and sent Kinsey and Quaid, but then they were Sunday school teachers.

There they sat—the Brennan bitch on one side, and Betsy, the Gallagher bitch, on the other side of the church. Rather than listening to the preacher, Jill entertained herself by imagining Betsy in full camouflage gear, rifle over her shoulder, as she paraded up and down a fencerow. Jill was imagining dozens of pigs rushing through the fence, breaking it down, and running right at Betsy, when Sawyer’s hand on her shoulder jerked her back into reality.