“The fur will fly when they finally howl their last and really get into the fight,” Sawyer said with a gleam in his eye. “In this corner we have the pig and in this corner the chicken. One is bigger, but the other has claws of steel. Which one will win, folks?”
“Now that might be a fight worth refereeing.” Jill laughed as she wrapped cheeseburgers, stuck a toothpick in the top to hold the paper together, and set the baskets on the bar.
“What would make it different than the one with Betsy and Kinsey?” Sawyer grabbed her hand and twirled her around to the music, then brought her back to his chest for a little back-of-the-bar two-stepping.
“Hey, we need a pitcher of martinis and one of beer,” a tall, lanky cowboy ordered. “And, honey, if you want to dance, I’d be glad to take you out on the floor where there is a hell of a lot more room.”
“Rule number one, I have to stay behind the bar. Rule number two, no one but Sawyer can be back here with me.” Jill smiled. “Haven’t seen you in here before. Gallagher or Brennan?”
“Neither. I jumped over the river from Oklahoma and came to party. Heard there was a damn sexy redhead down here in Burnt Boot, so I came to check things out,” he flirted.
“She’s sittin’ right back there in the corner,” Jill said.
“That one looks like she’s done been through the wringer. I’d rather have a pretty one like you, darlin’. What are you doing after closin’ tonight?”
She set two pitchers on the bar and took his money. “I’m goin’ home with this cowboy right here.” She pointed at Sawyer. “He’s the one I came with, and he’s the one I’m leavin’ with.”
“Just my luck. Day late and a redhead short, and I do like sassy redheaded women,” the man said.
Sawyer broke open a bag of frozen fries and dumped them into two baskets, lowered them into the grease, and swayed back and forth to the music. Watching his hips move like that jacked Jill’s hormones into overdrive. Who would have ever thought she’d think a man flipping burgers or sweeping up a floor was as sexy as one throwing hay bales or fixing fence? Bulging muscles, a damn fine body, brown eyes, and arms that made her feel oh, so safe—it didn’t matter what they were doing.
“I guess Kinsey let Betsy have the last word, because the last three songs have been line dancing ones,” she said. Hopefully talking about music would take her mind off the way those Wranglers fit Sawyer’s butt.
“Don’t speak too early, darlin’,” he said as the first single guitar notes started.
“Dear God,” Jill gasped.
Kinsey was in front of the jukebox, and when the haunting music of “I Know These Hills” came from the speakers, Jill recognized it immediately.
Every eye in the place darted between the two families, but when nothing happened, folks filled up the floor in a slow country waltz. Kinsey pointed at Betsy and smiled sarcastically. Betsy nodded and pointed back.
“That music haunts my soul every time I hear it,” Sawyer said.
“The singer is Sara Beck. Her tone reminds me a little of Alison Krauss,” Jill said.
“It does, doesn’t it?” Sawyer said. “Changing the subject here. What do you think would happen if a Gallagher fell in love with a Brennan these days? Like if Betsy went after Quaid?”
“God help Burnt Boot if they did.” Jill shuddered. “But in all honesty, I can’t see Betsy with Quaid. He’s way too tame for her. Maybe Declan or Eli, but not Quaid.”
The next song that played was “How Deep the Water Runs.” Sawyer and Jill both leaned on the bar. His hand covered hers when she shivered.
“It’s spooky after last week,” she said.
The third song was “Killing Season.” Kinsey’s eyes locked with Betsy’s, and neither of them blinked. The words said there’d be no rest in the killing season. When the lyrics mentioned the Lord’s Prayer and the devil’s law, Betsy blew Kinsey a kiss, turned her chair around, and raised her cup in a toast to all the folks at her table.
Sawyer brushed a quick kiss across Jill’s cheek. “Don’t let it get to you. We’re not going out tonight or any other night without taking precautions like we have all week.”
The next song was the theme song for the Hatfields and McCoys trailer, and the atmosphere in the bar changed immediately. They didn’t even listen to the words, but seats were pushed back, and people took the floor for a fast dance. Kinsey Brennan paired up with the lanky cowboy who’d jumped the river from over in Oklahoma, but her eyes strayed to the bar, and she winked at Sawyer several times.
A tall brunette grabbed Quaid’s hand, and Jill’s eyes came close to popping right out of her skull. That feller had some moves, and when he spun the woman out and brought her back to his chest, she did one of those wiggles that took her to the floor and slowly brought her back up again. Her eyes never left Quaid’s for a minute. Quaid flashed Jill a brilliant smile that left no doubt he was telling her that she was missing out on a very good thing.
“There’s more ways to kill someone than to shoot them,” Sawyer said when the dance ended and several people headed for the bar.
“And which one are we going to take care of first. Kinsey or Quaid?” Jill pulled up a fresh sheath of red cups and put in the dispenser. “I know I keep saying it, but I’m damn glad that we’ve got each other’s backs in this thing, Sawyer. Because tonight has fueled the feud even more than pork rinds and doggie treats.”
* * *
Like they’d done every night that week, they cleaned up after everyone left, and then Sawyer slipped outside, pistol in his hands. He waited by the truck while Jill locked the bar. Then she settled in and buckled up, and he did the same. Doors locked so there could be no surprises, he tucked the gun away in the console, and they drove home to the bunkhouse.
Jill kicked off her boots at the door and headed straight to the kitchen. “This is crazy, Sawyer. I feel like I’m playing a part in a movie.”
“Is it a drama or a comedy?” He sat down in a kitchen chair and removed his boots and socks, wiggling his toes on the cold floor.
“Little bit of both. I can’t get those songs out of my head.” She headed over to the rug where the kittens were curled up together, asleep in front of the warm stove.
“Me, either.” He wanted her to think about a spring pasture full of wildflowers and baby kittens. To get a picture in her head of something other than haunting music about feuding, fires of hell, and bloodletting.
“Mama says to never wake a sleeping baby, but I want to hold them and tell myself that tonight didn’t happen. The feeling I had was downright crazy in the bar,” she said.
“Mama knows best.” He took her hand in his and pulled her back to the sofa. His gaze went to her lips. He’d had her body against his when they’d slept together, but her lips fascinated him. Touching them made him forget everything around him but Jillian Cleary. It put them into a vacuum without stores, bars, ranches, and especially without feuds.
* * *
Jill’s gaze started at his eyelashes, which totally fascinated her. How could a thick bunch of dark hair be so seductive? Finally she let her eyes travel past his nose and to his lips. The music in her head wasn’t haunting, but it wasn’t upbeat either. It was like the background music to an old gospel hymn, peaceful with the promise of something eternal.
When she got to his slightly parted lips, the chemistry between them reached a brand-new height. His knuckles moved to trace her jawline, and then his hand splayed out, palm resting on her cheek, pinky teasing her ear, the rest holding her neck steady as his lips closed over hers.
Jill cupped his cheeks in her hands and took the first step to deepen the kiss. Desire fanned the fires of arousal until they were both panting. He moved from her lips to her neck, nuzzling, tasting, driving her crazy.
With one tug, all the snaps of his shirt popped open, and she buried her face in the soft black hair covering his bare chest. He groaned, and she shifted her weight until she was sitting in his lap.