“A pound should do for us, and I’m not callin’ Granny, because she’s still cussin’ mad,” Quaid said.
He’d closed the space between him and Jill so quietly, she wasn’t aware he was that close until his warm breath brushed her bare neck. She jumped and whirled around to find that he had four eyes and two noses. She blinked and took a step back so she could focus.
He put a hand on her shoulder and smiled brightly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to sneak up on your blind side. I wanted to tell you again how much fun I had yesterday, and to apologize once more for the way it turned out. The whole family fell in love with you. Granny Mavis has invited the two of us to dinner next Sunday so she can get to know you better and make it up to you. Then, I thought I’d show you my place in our horse-drawn carriage.”
She glanced over her shoulder at Sawyer. Bless his heart. His face told the story, and it wasn’t pretty.
“Thank you for the invitation.” Jill raised her voice enough that Kinsey could hear what she had to say to Quaid. “But Sawyer and I have made plans for that afternoon.”
Kinsey whipped around so fast that the tail of her coat slapped Sawyer on the leg. “Are you two more than roommates?”
“That’s a very personal question, ma’am,” Sawyer drawled.
“Which requires a personal answer,” she said.
“I’d say that’s our business. Now how much ham did you want, again?” Jill asked.
“A pound of ham and the same amount of white American cheese, and half a pound of bologna. Quaid, honey, you get two loaves of bread and a gallon of milk,” Kinsey said. “And, Sawyer, you might do well to remember I get what I want, and I can make you a very happy man. And I never, ever give up until I have what I want. I will wear you down. Now I’m going to do some shopping, and since I understand you have a sweet tooth, I’ll bring something to the bar tonight that’s especially for you.”
“Hello, Sawyer!” Betsy pushed her way into the store.
Thank God she was dressed in boots, jeans, and a denim duster, and had a dusty felt hat pulled over her red hair. The general store wasn’t big enough for two fancy-smancy divas. Jill would have had to shoot one of them or shove them out the door and hope they killed each other.
“Hey, Kinsey, what are you doing in Burnt Boot on a Monday morning? Aren’t you supposed to be doing important lawyer shit?” Betsy asked.
“I’m asking Sawyer out on a date. What are you doing in the store on Monday? Aren’t you supposed to be shoveling shit?” Kinsey fired right back.
“Did he accept?” Betsy asked coldly.
“Not this time,” Kinsey answered.
“Maybe you ought to shovel some shit. He’s a rancher, not a lawyer who wears three-piece suits and likes to go to Dallas for supper. Oh, excuse me, that would be dinner in your world, wouldn’t it?”
“Ladies, I’m not a piece of beef for sale in the meat counter,” Sawyer said. “I’m not going out with either of you, and that’s final. Now can I help you with something other than dating or catfighting? Remember, this store and the bar are neutral territory.”
Evidently he’d gotten his bearings, and they weren’t going to talk him into anything again. But there wasn’t a man on the face of the earth who wouldn’t be flattered to have two women fighting over him, no matter what the reason.
“Looks like a party going on in here.” Tyrell poked his head in the door. “Betsy, Granny is making dumplings for supper, and she said we’d better be there. Hey, Jill.” He blew a kiss her way. “I’ll see you tonight at Polly’s. I’ll be the one hogging the jukebox, and every song will be for you.”
“I’ll be right back. I’ve got a cake in the oven.” Jill disappeared into the storeroom. She did turn on the oven to preheat, and she did plan to put a cake in the oven, so it wasn’t too much of a lie. Then suddenly she realized that the store was too quiet. Lord, what if they’d kidnapped Sawyer and carried him off to some remote area? She peeked out the door and exhaled loudly. He was over there stocking shelves like he’d been born to do that rather than run a ranch single-handedly.
“Is the coast clear?” she hollered.
“For now. They’ve all gone home. But I see two more vehicles pulling in, so you’d better get on out here and stop hiding in the storeroom. That cake idea was pretty slick,” he said.
“It was the best I could do. If I’d had to put up with those two men another minute, I would have bonked them both on the head with cans of peaches.”
“Why peaches?”
“The cans are bigger than corn. It was so quiet, I thought those two women had kidnapped you.”
“Did that make you sad?” His eyes twinkled, and a smile tickled the corners of his mouth.
Dammit! Why did she have to look at his mouth? That made her think of that amazing kiss, and that put a little extra giddy-up in her pulse. “It sure did. I didn’t want to stock shelves and slice bologna and still keep everyone from killing each other.” She smiled sweetly.
“I saved you from a carriage ride with Quaid, and you treat me like that. You could have said that you liked me enough to worry about me if they’d kidnapped me,” Sawyer teased.
She bit the inside of her lip, and her brow wrinkled in a frown. “I understand that they both want Fiddle Creek, but isn’t there supposed to be something like friendship and love involved in a relationship?”
Sawyer’s fist shot up toward the ceiling. “Testify, sister!”
Jill had never giggled. Even as a child, when something struck her as funny, she laughed from the belly, and it sounded like it had erupted from a three-hundred-pound truck driver. That day it rattled around in the store like a rock band practicing in a bathroom.
“It wasn’t that funny,” Sawyer said.
“Yes, it was. I needed to laugh like that, so thank you. Here comes the next round, but I don’t recognize them as Gallaghers or as Brennans, do you?”
He shook his head. “No, but there’s so many uncles, aunts, and cousins on both sides that I wouldn’t swear to anything. Just duck and dodge if the bullets start flying.”
The door swung open and started a steady flow of traffic for the next two hours. By the end of the day, they’d worked out a system. Sawyer worked the meat market and stocked when he had time. Jill worked the counter, checking folks out and sacking groceries.
When it finally slowed down, Jill went straight to the storage room, drug out two lawn chairs, and popped them open behind the meat counter. “I’m hiding for a ten-minute break.” She slumped into one and propped her boots up on the rungs of the table holding the meat slicer. “Lord have mercy! This is tougher than hay hauling.”
“And to think come summer, we’ll be doing this and hauling hay.” He sat down beside her, his boots only a few inches from hers when he stretched out his legs.
“But we will have help. At least two high school kids who are willing to work hard, especially if we’re putting in more alfalfa acreage, and a kid to work the store in the afternoons to free us up from this job,” she said.
“Hungry?” he asked.
“Starving, but I can wait until we get to the bar. What I want is a big old greasy cheeseburger and French fries, even if I have to eat it on the run between customers. What about you?”
“Sounds good to me. Right now I want to sit here and let my feet rest.”
“This is going to sound crazy after only three days. But even with the feud and all the work, I feel like this is where I belong,” she said.
“It’s not crazy at all. I’ve been lookin’ for a place to light for almost two years now, and when I came up here to visit my cousin, it was like my soul came home to roost. Then when Gladys offered me the job, it was like I belonged on Fiddle Creek. Sometimes the time, past experiences, and future hopes all work together to make the whole picture.”
“Well, butter my butt and call me a biscuit, I’m livin’ with a prophet.” She smiled.
“Pass the butter. I’ll be glad to take on that job.”
“How do you do that?” she asked.
“Butter your butt? Well, first you drop your jeans and those fancy, red-lace underbritches,” he answered.
“I’m not wearing red-lace panties,” she snapped.
“In my mind you are. Then I melt some butter until…”
“Hush!” She held up her palm. “How do you go from making profound statements to joking without even thinking?”
He pushed up out of the chair and said, “My name is Sawyer O’Donnell. I come from a long line of Irish folks who have kissed the Blarney Stone, but there’s also a few serious folks in me lineage too. I like Irish whiskey and I like to dance, and it’s been said, like me Irish ancestors, that I talk too much, but it all goes together to make up Sawyer O’Donnell. Whether you like me or not is your privilege, m’lady, but as old Rhett said at the close of the movie, ‘Frankly, I don’t give a damn.’” His fake Irish accent left a lot to be desired, but he was funny as hell.
Laughter filled the store again as he sat back down.