The Trouble with Texas Cowboys (Burnt Boot, Texas #2)(68)

“Yes, ma’am, they are some fine peas,” he said when he tasted the black-eyed peas.

“Yep, just like Granny made, both of my grannies,” Jill agreed.

If every thought hadn’t been sexual in the last ten minutes, it might not have felt like they were sharing a hell of a lot more than a bowl of Southern-style black-eyed peas. The feeling they shared over that bowl of peas solidified his thinking—that he was right where he should be at this time in his life and everything was going down the right path.

The rain had slowed to a few sprinkles when they left the café, and the sun was shining brightly when Sawyer parked the truck in front of the bunkhouse. “It’s four o’clock. I’ll load the feed, and we’ll get the evening chores done, and then I need to give my mama a call.”

“Too late for a nap, though,” Gladys said. “I’m going to help you kids with the chores. If I sleep now, I’ll be awake half the night.”

“I’m going inside and putting on a pair of jeans and an old shirt. It’s a wonder I got any kind of job done in this straight skirt when it came to fixin’ fence,” Jill said. “And then I’m going to play with Piggy and Chick. I bet they missed us, Sawyer. I won’t be long, and I promise to pet them only one time before I come back out to help with chores.”

*

Something Sawyer said about the clouds being on the move and not settling down stuck in Jill’s mind as they fed and watered the cattle that evening. Was she like that? Would she tire of the whole Burnt Boot scene and hurry to another place and another job before spring?

Sitting so close to him in church, working side by side with him to get the cattle taken care of and the fence fixed, then pressed up against his side in the café, had put nervous flutters in her gut. She wasn’t sure if the message was to fly or plant roots. Maybe feeling right was nothing more than an elusive butterfly.

“Did you call your mama?” she asked as she cut open the last bag of feed.

“I did, but it went to voice mail. She forgets her cell phone most of the time when she leaves the house. I left a message,” Sawyer answered.

“Oh. My. Sweet. Jesus.” Gladys pointed over the fence into Wild Horse territory.

“What? Is another one cut? Dammit to hell!” Jill said.

“I don’t see any dangling barbed wire,” Sawyer said.

“Stop the truck. Those big old fancy blondie cattle of Naomi’s are all gone. That means they’re in with my cows,” Gladys said.

Sawyer hopped out of the back of the truck and opened Jill’s door. “Why are we stopping here? The cattle are used to being fed closer down to the end of the pasture.”

“Naomi’s fancy cows are missing from the pen, and Aunt Gladys is checking to see how they got out.”

He put his hands on her waist and helped her out like an old-time cowboy would take his woman from a wagon seat. “Well, shit! We’ll be out here past dark.”

“Y’all two drive on down to the feeding spot, and I’ll walk the fence line,” Gladys yelled.

Sawyer brushed a quick kiss on Jill’s lips and said, “I’ve been wanting to do that all day.” He picked her up and settled her back into the passenger’s seat and whistled around the truck.

“So why didn’t you?” she asked when he’d buckled into the old work truck.

“Are you getting testy with me?”

“Maybe, if you’re too ashamed of me to kiss me in public,” she said. “Or hold my hand in church.”

“Are you picking a fight because you don’t want to continue this relationship?” he asked.

“Why would you ask a fool question like that?”

“Because I’ve done the same thing more than once the past two years. Start getting close to a commitment and then do some serious backpeddling. You’ve probably done the same thing since your last breakup, so I understand if you want to slow this wagon down. But let me say something, right now and right here. I’m not ashamed to kiss you, hold your hand, or to stand up in church and tell the whole damn lot of the people in Burnt Boot that we are dating and we are an item,” he said. “I’ll be damned!”

“What?” she mumbled.

He was out of the truck and pointing before she realized what he was talking about.

“The cattle on this side of the fence all have Fiddle Creek brands. There’s not a fancy blondie in the mix,” he said. “We might as well feed our herd and tell Gladys to stop walking the fence row. And, Jill, I meant what I said.”

Jill inched her phone up out of her hip pocket and called Gladys. “There’s nothing down here but Fiddle Creek cows,” she said when Gladys finally answered on the fourth ring.

“Looks like their herd, all but for one rangy old heifer, has disappeared like the Brennans’ hogs. I wonder if Wallace will be giving us a good price on beef next week.” She laughed.

“Aunt Gladys! Have you been buying stolen pork?” Jill asked.

“Wallace told me he bought those pigs fair and square, and he had the receipts to prove it,” Gladys said. “I was making a joke. Rain has probably washed away any tracks, and I’ll bet you that the fence problem up close to the road this morning was a distraction to bring all the guards to the south for help.”