The Trouble with Texas Cowboys(32)

“You might want to ask your roommate if he’s allergic to cats. If he is, I’ll take the kitten back to the barn out on Wild Horse.”

Jill smiled up at Tyrell. Was he the one who had been wearing a mask and had taken them from one van to the other? Or had he been one of the first kidnappers? She couldn’t tell. It had been dark, and they were all tall men wearing cowboy boots.

“Sawyer loves cats even more than I do. He might even claim this one for his very own,” she said.

Tyrell frowned. “I brought it to you.”

“And I really do thank you.”

“See you at Polly’s sometime this week.”

“I’ll be the one filling pitchers behind the bar,” she said.

He shut the door behind him when he left, but a gust of cold air breezed across her face all the same. “Now that’s fitting, isn’t it, Audrey? Kidnap me and then bring a present to cover it up. Pretty damn cold, if you ask me.”

“Did I hear someone talking?” Sawyer asked.

She held up the yellow kitten. “Her name is Audrey because…”

“I watched that movie with Finn’s kids. Audrey is the name of a chicken, right?”

She nodded.

“So Quaid brought a playmate for Piggy here?”

“No, Tyrell did.”

His laughter echoed off the walls. “Well, come on over here Chick and meet Piggy. We’ll see if the Gallaghers and Brennans can get along in feline form.”

They set them on the floor behind the counter, and the two sniffed each other. Audrey reached out and swatted Ollie, who promptly swatted back, and then they jumped three inches straight up and landed in a bundle of fur, kicking and biting each other.

“The feuding blood runs deep,” Jill said.

“Not necessarily. They’re playing, not fighting. They think they are sisters,” Sawyer said.

They stopped, flopped down beside each other, and fell asleep with Audrey curled up in the middle of Ollie’s stomach.

“Aha,” Sawyer said. “And the pig and the chicken shall lie down behind the counter in peace. Think we’ll live to see the day the Gallaghers and the Brennans make friends?”

“I wouldn’t hold my breath. I don’t look good in that shade of blue, and don’t be getting too close to me after almost blaspheming the holy word.” Jill laughed.

He started around the counter. “Why is that?”

She backed all the way up to the far end, beside the cash register. “Because if lightning shoots out of the sky, I don’t want to be the one it gets instead of you.”

“Here comes lightning.” He pinned her hands behind her back.

She barely had time to moisten her lips before his closed in on hers. He was dead right. It was electrifying, sending jolts of pure desire shooting through her whole body. She wanted Sawyer, plain and simple.

“Ouch,” he said when he broke the scorching kiss.

“I didn’t bite you.”

He pointed to his leg. Audrey was climbing it like it was a tree.

She reached down and picked the yellow kitten from his jeans and held her close. Did fate intervene in the form of a kitten, so they wouldn’t take the kissing business to the next level? Was it trying to tell her to pay more attention to the Gallaghers, since it was Audrey who had put a stop to things?

“I had no idea that chicks could claw like that,” he said.

“They can’t, but cats can,” Jill said. “And now it’s closing time. We’d best load up enough of that chili for our supper and put the rest in the refrigerator for later. We have to take these critters home before we go to the bar. I won’t have them inhaling all that cigarette smoke. I’ll get a bag of litter and a couple of cans of food from the shelves if you’ll take care of the chili.”

“I’ll do it,” he said. “That was a fine kiss, ma’am. It flat-out weakened my knees.”

“Sawyer O’Donnell, you are full of shit.”

“No, ma’am, I’m speakin’ the absolute guaran-damn-teed truth.”





Chapter 18


The aroma of coffee wafted through the bunkhouse that Tuesday morning. Sawyer picked up his cell phone and found that he had no missed calls, that it was six o’clock in the morning, twenty-one degrees outside in Burnt Boot, Texas, and that it was January twentieth, his sister’s birthday. He would need to call the florist after he finished the morning chores, or there would be plenty of calls, starting with his mother fussing at him for missing an important day in their family.

He was on his way to get a cup of Jill’s strong coffee but stopped to take in the picture before him. Holding a mug, Jill sat on a worn rug in front of the woodstove. Piggy—she had a name, but Sawyer couldn’t remember it—danced across the rug sideways, and then Chick grabbed her by the tail, and the fight was on. They made Monday night wrestling look tame, right up until they got tired at the same time. Then they were friends who needed each other to sleep.

Just like you and Jill, his inner voice said.

I slept fine by myself last night, he argued.

Not as well as you did on Sunday.

Sawyer let the voice in his head have the last word. There was no arguing with the truth. He did sleep better when Jill was next to him.

She was gorgeous with the first morning light glimmering in her hair. Her green eyes sparkled as she watched the kittens play, and suddenly he was jealous as hell that he hadn’t been the one who brought them to her. Every time she looked at them, she’d think of Quaid and Tyrell, maybe even going back and reliving what their kisses felt like.

“Hey, you are awake,” Jill said. “Coffee is ready. There’s a breakfast casserole in the oven, and the girls have been fed.”

“You cooked?” he asked.

“Be thankful. Not grouchy.”

He poured coffee into a mug and sat down on the sofa. “I’m not a bit grouchy.”

“Your words say one thing. Your attitude says another. How can you be grumpy when these two kittens are so entertaining? Even when they are asleep, they make me smile.”

“You want honest?”

She nodded. “What’s your problem?”

“What do you think about when you look at those kittens?”

She sipped her coffee, a smile covering her face.

His heart grew heavier and heavier. Dammit! He didn’t want to be right this time.

“Well, when I look at Piggy Ollie over there, I think of pork rinds. And when I look at Audrey Chick, I think about Chicken Chips. Never knew the latter existed until I found them online yesterday. They are doggy treats, and I guess they taste like chicken. And that makes me smile. No, it does more than that. It makes me giggle like a little girl who found a way to get even with a smart-ass on the playground.”

She popped up agilely and sat down beside him on the sofa. “They also make me think of Quaid and Tyrell, and remind me of the fear I felt in that dark van. I’ve never been afraid like that before. I’ve always been able to take care of myself. But I had no gun and not even a hairpin to pick a lock with. I wasn’t strong enough to kick down the doors or to get away from the two of them, as big as they were, and they had guns. If you hadn’t been there, I’d have been a blubbering, quivering bundle of nerves, but I had faith in you, Sawyer. I knew you’d figure a way to get us out.”

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders and drew her close to his side. “Don’t underestimate yourself, darlin’. Once you got over the fear, and the anger set in, you’d have kicked ass. How can you love those kittens if they remind you of the fear?”

“It’s weird, but they are so cute and funny. Maybe they are the sign that I definitely do not want to get mixed up with either family,” she said.

“They won’t quit,” he said. “And what’s this about pork rinds and doggy treats? I love pork rinds, and my sister buys those chips all the time for her spoiled little rat of a dog.”

She fit in his arms perfectly. He shouldn’t fight the urge to take it past a few kisses to the next step. It wasn’t like he’d forgotten how to date. He’d gone out lots of times and even considered a serious relationship once.

The timer on the oven sounded, and for a split second, Sawyer thought his phone was ringing. They both hopped up at the same time.

“Breakfast is ready. I’ll get the plates if you’ll make the toast,” she said.

“Why? Do you burn toast? I’m not surprised that someone as hot as you can burn bread by touching it,” he flirted.

She slapped at his arm, deliberately missing. “That’s a pickup line. Not a bad one, either. How many women have heard that?”

“Well, there was Delilah, Gloria, Letitia, Julie, Darcy, should I go on? I’m not sure I can recollect how many women have burned bread for me.”

Jill pushed him into the kitchen. “Well, scalding-hot cowboy, get on in there, and let’s see if you can burn toast.”

* * *

He had asked about pork rinds and Chicken Chips, and Jill had managed to dodge that bullet by changing the subject. But now he was probably thinking of all those tall, beautiful blonds and brunettes he’d dated and wishing that he was having breakfast with them instead of a spitfire redhead that had admitted she had been scared shitless.

That’s what friends do. They tell each other how they feel, she thought, hoping it might quiet the voice in her head before it ever got started. But the voice had to throw its two cents into the ring. You went past the friend stage the first time he kissed you. Deal with it. You are attracted to him, and he’s definitely been flirting, she argued. But Sawyer could have any woman anywhere. Right now he could move to Wild Horse or River Bend, ranch to his heart’s content, and have anything he wants. They are both beautiful women, and, dammit, I’m working myself up into a jealous rage.