The Trouble with Texas Cowboys(37)

“Are we having cookies with our waffles?” Jill asked.

“Look at it closely.” Sawyer grinned. “Pay especially close attention to the lid.”

“Daisies.” She smiled.

“I would have gone out into the pasture and picked some wild ones for you, but it’s the wrong time of year. That’s all I could find with a daisy on it,” Sawyer said.

Rule number one, two, and three disappeared as she rounded the table and looped her arms around his neck. She rolled up on her toes and moistened her lips seconds before his mouth claimed hers in a scorching hot kiss that fried any remnants of future rules. He tugged at the belt of her robe, and his hands slipped inside to graze her rib cage and come to rest on her waist. Then in a flash, the kiss broke, and he picked her up, tossed her over his shoulder, and headed for the bedroom.

The towel fell off her hair, but she didn’t care. For such an up-close view of his cowboy ass underneath those flannel pajama pants, she’d gladly air-dry her hair upside down on the way to the bed, where other delicious things might happen.

Crunching truck tires on gravel brought him to an abrupt stop. She slid off, out of his arms, and her bare feet hit the floor in a hurry when a heavy door slammed. By the time someone was walking across the porch, Jill had picked up the towel and hurried off to her room.

She’d barely shut the door when she heard Sawyer’s voice coming from the kitchen. “Good mornin’, Gladys. You are just in time for breakfast. I was about to put the waffles on the table. I’ve got maple syrup and buttered pecan. Name your poison.”

“Maple sounds good. I’ll get out an extra plate. Where’s Jill?”

“She’s on her way. I yelled at her a few minutes ago. Did you hear about the tension in the bar last night?”

Jill hurriedly wrapped the towel back around her head, removed the robe, put on underpants and a bra, and then added pajama pants, a sleep shirt, and a pair of socks. “I thought I heard voices out here. Good mornin’, Aunt Gladys.”

“Good mornin’ to you. I’m glad to see that you are both safe this morning and not wandering around with Tilly, like you were last week. Where’d the cats come from?”

“The clashing cowboys gave them to her. The gray one is Piggy and the yellow one is Chick,” Sawyer said.

“I wasn’t supposed to tell you, but then I didn’t, Sawyer did, so Aunt Polly can’t be mad at me,” Jill said.

It took Gladys a minute, but when she caught on, she slapped a hand over her mouth and giggled like a schoolgirl. “Piggy Brennan and Chick Gallagher, right?”

“You got it.” Jill nodded. “You goin’ to church this mornin’?”

“No, I don’t want to leave Polly alone that long. Y’all keep your ears and eyes open. Something is brewing. After that stunt with the pork rinds and the dog treats this week, I can feel it in the air. I’ll pour the coffee.”

Jill glanced over her shoulder toward the end table where she’d left her cup, but it was gone. When she looked back at Sawyer, he winked.

“I’ll get the butter and syrup,” Jill said.

“Y’all got cookies in that old jar?” Gladys asked.

“No, I found it in the cabinet and put it on the table,” Sawyer answered.

Jill touched the lid. “I might make cookies in the store tomorrow to fill it up. Last week when we were making chili in the back room, lots of folks bought chili meat and beans. If they smell cookies, maybe they’ll buy chocolate chips and sugar.”

Gladys set three cups at the right places and pulled out a chair. “That sounds like a wonderful idea. I bet folks do buy more when the store smells like food. Bring on the waffles, Sawyer. You reckon you could make up another batch, so I could take some to Polly?”

“Got plenty of batter already made up,” Sawyer said. “Just before you leave, we’ll get them ready for her.”

* * *

The kittens entertained Sawyer that morning as he waited for Jill to get dressed for church. He could hear her mumbling about something through closed doors, but he couldn’t understand a word she said. When his phone rang, the kittens shot under the sofa and peeked out cautiously.

“Good mornin’, Mama,” he said when he’d looked at the Caller ID.

“Are you all settled in and ready for church this morning?” she asked.

“Yes, I am.”

“Then why haven’t you called?”

He sat up straighter. “Been busy gettin’ settled in.”

“Oh, is that the story? Well, Finn’s mama has called me several times, so don’t give me that tall tale. I don’t care if you are thirty or forty or ninety. As long as I’m alive, I should not have to hear about you through relatives. And now that I’ve fussed at you, tell me about Jill Cleary. Callie says she’s quite a woman and that she likes her. I trust Callie’s judgment.”

“Jill is Gladys’s great-niece,” he started.

His mother cut him off immediately. “I know who she is. I know what she looks like. I want to know what you think of her, and if this is going to be a…” She paused.

“They call it a relationship, Mama.” He laughed.

“I couldn’t think of the word. Is it?”

“I don’t know. We haven’t gone on a date. We hardly have time for anything but working from daylight to midnight.”

“That’s a crazy job you’ve taken on, Son.”

He shut his eyes and could visualize her sitting in her rocker, waiting for the time to go to church. Her black hair had a few gray streaks nowadays, and her round face was showing signs of raising four kids, but the way his father looked at her, well, he wanted that kind of relationship when he did find someone to trust his heart with forever.

“But the crazy thing, Mama, is I like it. Of course, I like ranchin’ best, but I like all of it,” he said.

“Here’s your father. You call me more often, or I’ll show up on your doorstep long before spring,” she said.

“Maybe I won’t call then,” he teased.

“Sawyer O’Donnell! It’s just that I miss you, Son. I know you are old enough to make your own decisions, but a mother is allowed to miss her son.”

“Love you, Mama. Tell Daddy I’ll talk to him this week.”

Jill’s bedroom door opened, and she flat-out took his breath away. Her hair was twisted up, showing off that long, slender neck he liked to bury his face in. She wore a denim skirt slit up the side and pointed-toed black boots with red stitching that matched the sweater that hugged her curves.

“Wow. Just plain old simple wow,” he said.

“Thank you.” She smiled and handed him a long denim duster with fancy red shiny stones scattered across the collar.

“You should model for Western-wear catalogs,” he said as he helped her into the coat.

“I’m way too short to be a model, but thank you again. Did Aunt Gladys call? I heard you talking to someone other than the cats.”

“It was my mama. She misses me,” he said.

“Do you miss her?”

“Sure, I do, and if you are askin’ if I’m a mama’s boy, the answer is probably yes.” He grinned. “Not so much that I have to talk to her every day, but…”

Jill touched him on the shoulder. “Never trust a man who doesn’t love his mama. My granny told me that.”

“Smart granny.” He slipped his arms into his Western-cut sports jacket. “Finn and Callie have been talkin’ about us to my folks.”

* * *

Seating was snug in church that morning. While the Brennans’ side and the Gallaghers’ side had several empty spaces on their pews, the center section was packed completely full.

With Sawyer’s and Jill’s sides plastered together all the way from shoulder to knees, Sawyer had a choice: scrunch up his shoulders or drape his arm over the back of the pew. He chose the latter to make a little more room. Quarters so close meant that all he had to do was tip his head slightly to see any part of her, and he liked that very much.

First he studied her profile. Pert little nose, big green eyes with lots of eyelashes, lips made for kissing, and a neck just right to nuzzle. A hint of thigh showing from the slit down to the top of her boots reminded him of the power in those legs the night before, when they were wrapped around his body. A stirring behind his zipper said he’d best be paying attention to the song they were singing from the hymnal they shared, or it was going to be a long, painful church service.

Finn turned slightly in the pew in front of him and whispered, “Y’all should come to Salt Draw for dinner.”

Sawyer’s head bobbed once. “I’d love to. I’ll ask Jill soon as church is over.”

“Verdie is going to Polly’s right after church, but she left a roast in the oven, and we’d love to have you.”

“Thank you,” Sawyer mouthed and went back to singing.

He was determined not to look at Jill’s lips or her eyes or those cute little freckles that makeup couldn’t quite cover, so he let his eyes drift on down. Big mistake!

The red sweater stretched across her chest and hugged her midriff to her waist. With no effort at all, he could visualize what was underneath that soft material. He blinked, but the picture didn’t fade, not even when he forced his gaze down farther to the slim denim skirt and boots. It grew more vivid when he thought of her bare feet dangling when she’d been thrown over his shoulder like a bag of chicken feed.