Rules of Protection (Tangled in Texas #1)(61)

Momma Bell wasn’t satisfied, though. “You two having a spat, are you? Jakey, kiss that girl and make up with her. Don’t you know anything, boy?”

Jake and I stared at each other. Neither of us wanted to be in that position. He tried to finagle out of it, but no one could tell Momma Bell no. The lady didn’t take no for an answer. The crowd watched as she pushed Jake closer to me, stood off to the side with her arms crossed, waiting, as Jake and I faced each other awkwardly. Everyone whispered amongst themselves, making me wonder if they’d placed bets on whether we’d follow through. Hell, if they were smart, they’d bet on Momma Bell.

Humor twinkled in Jake’s eyes. “Should we try to make a run for it?”

“Momma Bell’s packing,” I warned him.

“I guess we don’t have much of a choice, then.”

The crowd watched intently as we stood there like idiots.

“Maybe we should ask for a drum roll or something,” I suggested.

Cowboy walked closer and planted himself next to Ox and Judd. “I’d be happy to stand in for you if you’re not feeling up to it, Jakey.”

Jake gave his friend a wicked grin. Only then did I understand the sensible, if not mundane, kiss I’d expected wasn’t going to be as mild as I’d thought. Cowboy issued a dare, and Jake never did anything half-assed.

I refused to let Jake put on a show for his friends. Resentfully, I dug in my heels, hoping to keep the kiss polite and viewer-friendly. But before I could stop him, Jake ratcheted me into his arms and drew his mouth over mine. I forced my body into rigidity, as if I were a wooden puppet. Unfortunately, my strings were attached to my heart. Jake’s tongue demanded my lips to part, and I responded as if he were my master. It was ravenous and indulgent and no longer just a kiss. In front of everyone, Jake made love to my mouth, and I forgot he was using me to prove something.

“Ahem.” The sound cut the air around us as Momma Bell cleared her throat. We stopped kissing and saw everyone standing there, watching, mouths opened in awe. Or possibly disgust.

“That was a real doozy of a kiss…almost as good as the potato salad. Why, my Earl never gave me a saucy kiss like that.” She leaned over and whispered, “My Earl was a real flash in the pan, if you know what I mean.” Then Momma Bell winked and walked away, still mumbling to herself.

Jake and I traded glances with each other and then moved farther apart, as if we were afraid the closeness would trigger another attack on one another’s sexuality.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Junior stand and take a pouch from his back pocket. He twisted his hand inside and pulled out a large wad of chewing tobacco. It was a disturbing thing to watch. I’d seen people reach into salad bowls and come out with less than what he stuffed into his mouth. When he stepped over to me, the faint scent of wintergreen drifted into my nose.

I couldn’t help but smile. “Hi, Junior.”

“Emily,” he said, nodding and tipping his black Stetson.

“I haven’t had a chance to thank you for the clothes you brought over the other day. Almost everything fit. Are you sure your daughter doesn’t want to keep them? There were some cute outfits in there. She has excellent taste.”

The corner of Junior’s mouth lifted. “I’m sure she’s glad you’re able to get good use out of them.”

“How’d you know I needed clothes, anyway?”

“Before opening the diner, I spent a great deal of my life as a tracker. I’m used to spotting things invisible to others.”

“Good guess, in other words?”

He tossed his head back and a deep, bellowing laugh came out. “Something like that,” he said as he walked away.

Jake strolled over. “What’d you say to him?”

“Nothing. Why?”

“You made him laugh. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him laugh before. Most people are usually afraid of him.”

It struck me as odd, since I found Junior to be a kind, considerate person. He came off as a hard man who probably lived a hard life, but in his presence I felt safe, protected even. Nothing bad would ever happen as long as Junior was around. Probably because he smelled of wintergreen and the scent reminded me of my own father. But either way, I wasn’t afraid of him. In fact, I was quite fond of him.

A few minutes later, Floss announced it was time to eat, and the crowd zipped over to form a line as the feeding frenzy began. I headed to the back of the line, but as I passed Jake, he grabbed me and slid me in front of him.

“We’re taught in elementary school not to cut in line.”

“And you say I never break the rules,” he said teasingly, handing me a foam plate, plastic fork, and a napkin.

“Never any that matter.”

We made our way down the line, and our plates got heavier with brisket, jalapeno sausage, potato salad, baked beans, carrot-raisin salad, and ambrosia. Floss offered some pickled quail eggs, but I passed, managing to grab one of the last deviled eggs.

“Here, Emily, try this,” Cowboy said, shoving a piece of meat under my nose.

I picked it up with my fingers and gave it a sniff. It smelled okay, but I was leery of anything attached to telltale words like “try this.” I nibbled on a tiny piece until Jake grinned.

“Okay. What is it?” I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer.