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She giggled like a little girl. “That’s why we talk about it so long. We want it to be dead and done with when we finish talking.”
“Then talk, and let’s get it in the grave. I’m a damn fine listener,” he said.
“In the beginning, I thought he was perfect. He was thoughtful and kind, and his daddy had a ranch, so we had lots in common. We’d been dating about three months when he wanted us to move in together, but I didn’t want to commit to that. Looking back, I must’ve realized something wasn’t right with the relationship even then.”
She kept talking, and Sawyer listened. He didn’t nod at the right times and pat her hand, but his eyes said that he was really paying attention. If he’d picked up a little notepad and started to write, she would have sworn he’d been a therapist in another life.
“Evidently, he figured if I was close enough, he could wear me down to do what he wanted. That was probably why his father offered me a job on his ranch. I’d been living with my grandparents and helping out on the ranch, but then they died and we found out that the bank owned the ranch, or at least ninety percent of it. Grandpa had been putting extra mortgages on it for years to keep it running, and it had to be sold at auction to pay the bank. I was out of a job.”
“I’m sorry,” Sawyer said.
“I had a little tiny trailer out behind the bunkhouse, and my jobs varied from exercising horses to helping haul hay or anything else that needed done. We had this big fight six months ago about him being so spoiled and about an old girlfriend who showed up on the scene, and the whole relationship came unglued. She was in his league, which I definitely was not. She worked in her daddy’s oil company but never got out into the real business of drilling.”
“He cheated on you?” Sawyer asked.
“I don’t know if he did or didn’t, but he started dating her a week after I left and went to another job on a ranch a hundred miles away. When that ranch sold a few weeks ago I called Aunt Gladys.”
Sawyer squeezed her hand. “You aren’t stupid, Jill. You saw it coming and got your heart ready for it.”
“I hope that’s what it is, and I’m not hard-hearted, hardheaded, and coldhearted to boot,” she said.
“Did he ever mention marriage?” Sawyer asked.
She shook her head. “No, and I’m glad he didn’t. I might have said yes.”
“Regrets?”
“Not a single one. If what we had didn’t work, then marriage would have been a big mistake. But I haven’t had the nerve to get involved with anyone since him. There are no regrets, not even when I’m right in the middle of this damn feud. Which reminds me, I will get even with them.”
“I’ve got three pistols. I can shoot with two at once if you can handle one and that sawed-off shotgun you seem to be partial to,” he said.
Like always, his wit put her in a good mood and made her laugh.
“I’ll do some practicing, and I bet we could take out a bunch of those varmints before Sheriff Orville arrived with his doughnuts,” she said.
“Which reminds me.” He covered a yawn with his hand. “I’m hungry.”
“After two sandwiches?”
“That was a long time ago. Taking a nap is hard work. I’ll make spaghetti for supper if you’ll put a pan of brownies in the oven for dessert.”
She cut her eyes up to catch his gaze. “And while we make supper, you will tell me your story, right? Or have you talked it to death with your cousin Finn or your mama?”
“Oh, honey, I pouted and whined worse than a little girl when it happened, nearly two years ago, and it’s a wonder either one of my cousins who was with me at the time will even talk to me.” He pushed the covers back, pulled on a clean pair of socks, and stomped his feet down into boots.
She felt better immediately. Any tough old cowboy who’d been hurt bad enough to cry wouldn’t be ready for a relationship any more than she was.
* * *
Sawyer set an iron skillet on the stove and turned on the flame under it. While that heated, he filled a pot with water, added salt and a splash of cooking oil, and set it on another burner to boil. Hamburger sizzled when he tossed a pound into the skillet. Jill whipped up flour and sugar and cocoa together in a big bowl while he pulled out another pan for his special sauce. None of that canned shit for Sawyer; no, sir, he made his own marinara sauce, starting with real tomatoes.
“Okay, role reversal. I’m the therapist. You get to talk now,” she said.
“To death?” he asked.
She nodded. “All the way to the grave.”
“She and I’d gone to school together since kindergarten. We went to both our junior and senior proms together and dated all the way through college. We got engaged, but she didn’t want to rush into marriage. She wanted the big, perfect wedding with all the bells and whistles, and her parents couldn’t pay for something that elaborate, so we saved our money. We even had a joint checking account, and when it hit a certain number, we were going to start planning the wedding. We were almost there when an opportunity to go on a cattle drive came up. She told me to take the month and go on. She would be busy checking out venues for the wedding,” he said.
“Venues?”
“You know. Places that specialize in that shit. Hell, I didn’t care if we got married in the middle of a pasture, but I wanted her to be happy.”
“You don’t strike me as a man who’d want all that,” Jill said.
He grinned. “See there, we’ve known each other only a couple of weeks, and you can already tell that about me.”
“You were gone a whole month?”
He nodded.
“It happened at the end of the drive. We didn’t have phones, so she couldn’t call me until the end. When I called her, I got the news. She’d met a man at a party from Pennsyl-damned-vania, decided that she was in love with him, and eloped with the fool.”
“After making you wait for years for the big foo-rah with all the bells and whistles? Damn, Sawyer. I’d have killed them both and sworn to St. Peter that they committed suicide.”
He laughed as he shoved spaghetti into boiling water. “I considered it. Yes, ma’am, I damn sure did. But I wasn’t about to let her know that she’d broken my heart, so I went home and pretended to be happy, and I never talked about it again until today. Well, I did mention that she’d come home to Comfort, Texas, divorced and lookin’ my way, to Finn when I showed up on his doorstep at Christmas.”
“What about the savings account for the big wedding?” she asked.
“It went with her when she eloped.”
“Did she apologize for taking it?”
“Hell, no! She said that it was for her wedding, and therefore, it was her money. And, honey, I did not tell anyone that part of the story. Not even my mama or Finn knows that I was that big of a fool,” he answered.
“It was her loss, Sawyer. I bet there are days when she wishes she’d made a different choice.”
He shook his head. “Maybe. If she does, that’s her problem. Trust is what you build any kind of relationship on.”
“And you don’t do second chances?” Jill asked.
He added the browned meat to the marinara sauce. “Darlin’, there ain’t enough duct tape in the world to fix a stupid cowboy who’d get mixed up with that again. Besides, I’ve moved on.”
A blast of cold air preceded Gladys into the bunkhouse. When she reached the kitchen, her hands were on her hips and her lips were pursed so thin that they almost disappeared into the wrinkles.
“I’ve tried to call both of you since early this morning. Don’t you have enough sense to pick up your phones?” she fussed.
“Something wrong?” Sawyer asked.
“You hungry? We’re having spaghetti, and brownies for dessert,” Jill said.
“Yes, I’m hungry, and, no, nothing is wrong on the ranch, but I did go to church this morning, after all. It was too damn cold to go anywhere else, and I’ve been trying to call both your phones all day.”
“I’ll put another plate on the table,” Jill said, “and we’ll explain while we have supper together.”
“It’s a long story,” Sawyer said.
Gladys tossed her coat on the sofa and sat down at the table. “And you’ll make a plate for me to take to Polly?”
“There’s plenty,” Sawyer said.
Gladys pointed at Jill. “You go first. I was scared y’all had both left Fiddle Creek, and I don’t want either of you to leave. I like this arrangement.”
Sawyer slid half a loaf of Italian bread into the oven. He’d carefully cut it into thick slices and applied garlic butter. All it needed was a little heat and they’d be ready for dinner. “Sweet tea?”
“Yes,” Gladys said.
Jill busied herself putting ice into glasses and filling them. “I could tell the Gallaghers and Brennans were up to no good when they got to the bar last night. It wasn’t what they said, but the way they kept looking at each other’s tables.”
Gladys slapped the table with the palm of her hand. Cutlery rattled against plates and tea sloshed against the sides of the tall glasses. “I knew this would have something to do with that pig war. I knew it.”
“We can’t prove a bit of it.” Sawyer set the sauce and the spaghetti on the table. “Bread will be out in a minute.”
“Bit of what?” Gladys asked.
“Well, it went like this…” Jill went on to tell the story.
“So I’ve slept with your niece in a horse stall and in the back of a wagon, Gladys. You going to get out the shotgun?” Sawyer brought out the bread.
“Hell, no! If I had a medal, I’d give it to you for protecting her,” Gladys said. “And the way both families were acting this mornin’ in church, I’d say that you’ve got it right about what happened. But you’re also right about not being able to prove it. What did you think of Tilman?”
“You mean Tilly?” Jill asked.
“That’s what they call him now, since he’s a crazy old moonshiner who lives on the edge of Salt Holler, but that’s not what we called him when we were in school with him.” Gladys expertly wound spaghetti around a fork. “Damn fine food, Sawyer.”
“Thank you, ma’am. Why didn’t you call him Tilly?”
“Because he was the smartest kid in school, and in those days, Tilly was a girl’s name. It was short for Matilda, and not only was he smart, he was a cocky little fighter who’d black a kid’s eye if he got mad at him. He went on to make a lawyer out of himself, and then he ran for the House of Representatives and won twice. In the middle of the second term, he flat-out walked away from his job, bought that land near Salt Holler, and started making moonshine. Nobody really knows what happened. Some folks say it was over the Korean War. Some say it was over a woman. Wallace buys liquor and wine from him, and Tilly, he don’t bother nobody,” Gladys said.
“He seemed like a nice old guy to me,” Jill said.
“The only other person who’s ever been on his land is Wallace Redding, and that is to buy shine. No one would ever believe that Tilly befriended you. He don’t do that. He comes to the store twice a year for supplies and goes right back home. He talks to me when he’s there. I hear he picks up his mail at the post office. They hold it for him for six months at a time, and it’s mainly magazines and newspapers. Takes a whole garbage bag for him to haul it out of there.”
“Jill could sweet-talk a bear into giving up his honey.” Sawyer laughed.
“Oh, hush, I had hay in my hair and looked like the wrath of God had kissed me,” she said. “I’ve never been so glad to see a shower and get a nap in a real bed in my whole life as I was when we got back to the bunkhouse.”
“She looked cute.” Sawyer grinned. “I thought she did, and evidently Tilly did too. He not only let us into his house, he fed us breakfast and brought us to town.”
Gladys stuck her hand into her pocket and brought out a telephone. “Polly, don’t you eat any more of those cookies. Sawyer made spaghetti, and I’m bringing you a plate. The kids are fine, but I’ve got a hell of a story to tell you.”
A pause and a couple of nods. “No, it’s too juicy to tell over the phone, and, yes, I’ll be there in the next fifteen minutes.”
She hit a button and shoved the phone back in her pocket. “Reckon I’ll wrap up my plate too. She says if I don’t get back, she’s going to eat the whole bag of cookies, worryin’ about what I won’t tell her on the phone.”
“I’ll get it ready,” Jill said.
“What should we do now?” Sawyer asked Gladys.
“Go on like nothing happened, and see what comes crawlin’ out of the woodpile.”
“I’d rather set fire to both ranches,” Jill said.
“Nope, Fiddle Creek might suffer, since it’s in the middle of them,” Gladys said. “Thanks for supper, and I’ll see y’all tomorrow.”
Chapter 17
Jill could not put her finger on it or figure it out, but the relationship had risen to a new level between her and Sawyer since they’d bared their souls the day before. Maybe it was what soldiers face in near-death experiences when one saves another’s life. But whatever it was, she kind of liked it.
He’d been quieter, had a lot less to say or joke about, and now he was back there in the meat department, cleaning the saw like the health inspectors were due to come look at the store that very day.
The store was empty, and the shelves were dusted, the floor swept, the carts lined up, and the front glass washed on the inside. It was so cold outside that if she sprayed cleaner on that side, it would freeze before it hit the glass. She pulled her tablet out of her purse, hit the right button to bring it up, and went straight to her favorite site for a little retail therapy. She might not actually buy boots or a new bit of bling, but she’d look at it, and maybe that would help her sour mood.
An advertisement for a brand-new spice for chicken wings popped up on the side bar, and that’s what gave her the idea. She quickly went to another site that promised overnight shipping if she was willing to pay for it, and she decided it was well worth the cost. She pulled the charge box up from under the counter and wrote the addresses for River Bend and Wild Horse on the edge of a scrap of paper.
The first order was for a case of pork rinds. She carefully checked the box that said it was a gift and not to send any information concerning price or sender to the recipient. On the gift card she wrote “Oink! Oink!” and signed it “Porky Pig.” That little prize went to River Bend to the attention of Mavis Brennan.
The second order was for three bags of Chicken Chips doggy treats. The gift card said, “For the Gallagher Bitches” and was signed “Chicken Little.” That present went to Naomi Gallagher at Wild Horse Ranch.
Guaranteed delivery by eight o’clock the following evening. She’d entered the pig war, and it put a smile on her face.
“Well, well, it smiles,” Sawyer said.
“This from a man who’s hardly spoken to me all day,” she said.
“Hey, you started off the day real quiet.”
“So did you,” she shot back.
The bell rang as the door swung open, and there was Quaid Brennan standing there with a shoe box in his hands. He looked downright sheepish, holding a Prada shoe box with the price still written right there on the end. Jill hoped he could take them back, because she damn sure didn’t wear a size nine narrow. She wore a six wide. He’d have done much better if he’d brought in a Lucchese box, and he’d have spent a hell of a lot less money to boot, pun intended.
He set the box on the countertop. “I brought you a present. I heard that you had a mouse or two in the bunkhouse over on Fiddle Creek.”
“And I’m supposed to catch them in this box? You want to explain the procedure to me?” Jill could feel the ice in her voice, but dammit, he was a Brennan.
“Open it,” he said.
She flipped the lid open, and a little gray kitten looked up at her with big green eyes. She picked it up and the purring began immediately.
“Kinsey’s mama cat had babies, and this little girl looked like a good mouser to me.” Quaid smiled.
“Thank you. I’ll take good care of her.” Jill cuddled it up against her face and talked baby talk to the critter.
“I’m glad you like her. Maybe I’ll give you a call later this week, and we can plan something for Sunday?” Quaid said.
“Sawyer and I had plans for yesterday that got interrupted, so we’ll be real busy next Sunday while we make up time. But thank you for the kitten,” she said.
Quaid blushed. “Well, then maybe the next week. See you at Polly’s sometime.”
He was gone before Jill could say another word.
Sawyer reached over and scratched the kitten’s ears. “Did you see the expression on his face? We might not be able to prove it, but we were right. That was the face of a kidnapper, right there.”
“You want to hold her?” she asked.
“No, you go on and spoil her. It’s your cat. What are you going to name her?”
“Ollie,” she said quickly.
“I can see you’ve given this cat idea a lot of thought. Why Ollie?” he asked.
“It’s the pig’s name on a kid’s animated movie called Home on the Range.”
His dark brows drew down into a single line and then shot straight up. “You are wicked, Jillian Cleary.”
“But I’m in a much better mood. A little retail therapy and a new kitten works wonders on me.” She grinned up at him.
“So what did you buy? Oh. My. God! Is that a misprint or did whatever come in this box cost that much?” He pointed.
“Oh, yeah. I expect Kinsey wears them to work. And eight hundred dollars for Prada is on the low end of the scale,” Jill said.
“Do you…?”
She shook her head before he could finish the sentence. “Not on your life. I could buy two pair of Lucchese boots for that price, and they’d last a hell of a lot longer and never go out of style. You sure you don’t want to hold Ollie?”
He reached out, and she put the kitten in his hands. “Here piggy, piggy.” He smiled. “Your real name might be Ollie, but I’m going to teach you to come runnin’ when I holler piggy, piggy, instead of kitty, kitty.”
“And you call me wicked,” Jill said.
Sawyer leaned across the counter and brushed a sweet but hot kiss across her lips. “To be so open with each other yesterday, we sure clammed up this morning, didn’t we? Aren’t people who sleep together supposed to talk more?”
“We aren’t sleeping together,” she argued.
“Yes, we are. We aren’t having sex, but we are sleeping together. Every Sunday so far, and I liked it,” he said. “You can sleep with us, little piggy, if you want to.” He scratched the kitten’s belly, and she rolled over in his arms like a baby and shut her eyes. “Right now, I need to stir a pot of chili I’ve got going on the stove. You can go with me if your new mommy trusts me.”
“I’m not that cat’s mommy, and, yes, I trust you. Here, take her box in case you need to put her down while you stir,” she said.
She went back to her tablet and was busy plotting her next move in the pig war when the bell rang again, and there was Tyrell. At least he didn’t have a shoe box in his hand, or roses either, so that was a good thing.
“Hey, Jill. I missed seeing you in church yesterday,” he said.
I’m sure you did. I bet you even looked for me and Sawyer when you got to your destination and the back of that van was empty, she thought.
“Sawyer and I went for a hike,” she said.
“Well, I overheard Gladys telling Polly that you had a mouse problem at the bunkhouse, so I went out in our barn and rustled up a kitten for you.” He pulled a yellow ball of fur from his pocket and handed it to her by the scruff of the neck. “You’ll have to tame her. She’s a little wild.”
The kitten spit at her and growled, but after a minute of gentle petting, it was as tame as Ollie.
“So do you like her?” Tyrell asked.
“She’s cute as a newborn chicken,” Jill said.
“She’s a cat, not a chicken.”
Jill pushed the issue. “But her fur is the same color as a fresh-hatched chicken.”
“I guess it is. Well, I’ve got to go. Hope she’s a good mouser,” Tyrell said. “You got time for a picnic lunch anytime this week?”
“Looks like a busy week on Fiddle Creek, but thanks for the kitten. I’m sure she’ll love the bunkhouse.”
“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.
JustlikeyouandJill, his inner voice said.
Isleptfinebymyselflastnight, 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.
