“You two get settled in, and we’ll have a long talk in the morning. Welcome home to Burnt Boot, Jill darlin’. Me and Polly are glad that you’ve finally come home to roost for good.” Gladys gave her niece another hug and whistled all the way to her truck.

The engine of the truck had barely died down, and Sawyer was still trying to make sense of the whole scene, when it sounded as if Gladys was coming back. Thank God! She’d been teasing about Jill not living at the house with her and now she was coming back to get her.

A truck door slammed, and Sawyer hurried to throw open the door. Hell, he’d even carry Jill out there, shotgun and all, and put her into the truck.

It wasn’t Gladys standing on the other side of the screen door. It was Betsy Gallagher.

“Evenin’, Sawyer. I heard you’d gotten moved in. Thought I’d stop by and ask you to Sunday dinner at my granny’s place,” she said.

Red-haired and cute as a button, Betsy was a member of one of the feuding families in Burnt Boot. He’d been warned about taking sides in any way, form, or shape, but with the mayhem that had just happened, his mind went blank and he couldn’t think of a reason why he couldn’t go to dinner with her.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” Betsy asked.

“It’s a mess in here.” He stepped out on the porch.

“I heard that Jill Cleary was coming back to work for Gladys.”

“She is.” Sawyer still racked his brain, trying to come up with a plausible excuse not to go to dinner with her.

Betsy ran a hand down his arm and smiled up at him. “I expect you have lots to do, so I should be going. You can take me home from church on Sunday and have dinner with us, right?”

“I suppose,” he said.

“Good. I’ll see to it you have a good time.” She winked slyly.

He went back inside, threw himself on the sofa with a groan, and covered his eyes with his arm.

“What happened?” Jill asked.

A second knock brought Sawyer to a sitting position, but Jill was already on the way to the door. “I’ll get it,” she threw over her shoulder.

“Hello, Jill,” a masculine voice said.

Sawyer fell back and covered his eyes again. At least it wasn’t another woman out there asking for him.

“I heard you made it to the ranch this afternoon,” he said. “I’m Quaid Brennan. We met years ago when you were a little girl and visited Gladys. I thought I’d come over and invite you to come to the Brennan Sunday dinner after church, and I’d love it if you helped me teach Sunday school and sat with us in church. We’d sure enjoy making you welcome to Burnt Boot.”

“Sure, and thank you.”

“Good. I’ll pick you up at nine for Sunday school, then?”

“That will be great.”

She shut the door and melted into a rocking chair beside the sofa. “Shit! Aunt Gladys is going to scalp me. She said I wasn’t supposed to get involved with either family, but I couldn’t think of a single excuse.”

“I know exactly how you feel. But if you sit with them in church, everyone is going to think you’ve joined up with that side,” Sawyer moaned.

“Dammit!”

“Hey, we’ll make it through the day and be home in the middle of the afternoon. Let’s get back to our cleaning and figure out an excuse if anyone else comes around.”

Another knock on the door stopped him before he could finish the sentence.

“Your turn,” she said.

He hauled himself up off the sofa, crossed the room, and slung the door open, praying that this time it would be Gladys, but it was Kinsey Brennan. He looked past her to the third truck in the driveway, to see Tyrell Gallagher sitting in the driver’s seat. Shit fire! Each side had sent a double team to Fiddle Creek to gang up on them.

“Hey, Sawyer. We haven’t been formally introduced, but I met you at your cousin’s wedding reception. I came to invite you to Sunday dinner.” She smiled.

Tall, willowy, blond, and brown-eyed, she looked like a runway model, but Sawyer had the perfect excuse all ready.

“I’m going to dinner with Betsy Gallagher,” he said.

“Oh, well then, you must give us equal time, darlin’.” She opened the screen door and stepped inside. Before he could take a single step back, her breasts were brushing against his chest. “You have to come to supper at the Brennan household. It’ll be more private anyway without the whole family there.” She picked up his hand and wrote a number in the palm. “This is my cell phone number. Call me at a quarter to six, and I’ll talk to you the whole way and give you instructions on how to get to River Bend. See you then.” She blew a kiss off the tips of her fingers and then touched his lips with her forefinger.

“Holy shit!” Jill said. “What’s going on?”

“News travels fast in a small town. They know you have arrived, and they’re going to swamp you with dates,” he said.

“But why?”

“Fiddle Creek, and you’re a damn fine-lookin’ woman.”

“But why you?”

“They just want to get rid of the threat. If one of those women can snag me, then that’s one cowboy out of their way,” he said.

“You sure about that?”

A heavy knock landed on the door.

“I bet you dollars to cow patties that’s a Gallagher wanting to take you to Sunday dinner,” he said.

She grimaced. “Maybe it’s for you.”

“If it is, tell the woman I’ve got the plague.”

* * *

Jill answered the door, and there stood a tall, dark cowboy with pretty brown eyes. Lord, please let this be a Bible seller who’s lost his way and is looking for directions, she prayed.

Her prayer fell on deaf ears.

“Miss Jill Cleary, I swear you have grown up to be a gorgeous woman. The last time I saw you, you were in pigtails. You won’t remember me, probably. I’m Tyrell Gallagher. I heard you’d made it to town and I wanted to ask you to Sunday dinner.” His Texas drawl was sexy as hell, and he was easy on the eyes.

“Thank you for coming by and for the invitation, but I’ve already got dinner plans for Sunday,” she said.

“Well, then, darlin’, you could invite me inside,” Tyrell said.

“It’s a mess in here.” She used Sawyer’s line and stepped out on the porch like he’d done.

He pinned her against the rough wood wall of the bunkhouse with a hand on either side of her. “I can’t change your mind about dinner?”

“Sorry, but the plans are made.” She felt like a caged cat and fought the urge to holler for Sawyer to come save her.

“Then supper? We have two meals at Wild Horse on Sunday. Supper is buffet instead of a sit-down dinner, but you can still meet the family,” he whispered close enough that she caught the faint scent of peppermint gum over the top of whiskey.

“Okay,” she said. “What time?”

“I’ll pick you up at six. What’s your favorite color of roses?”

“I don’t have a favorite,” she said.

He took a step back and grinned. “Then red it is. I’ll see you Sunday.”

She hurried into the house, and Sawyer was gone from the sofa. Surely he hadn’t slipped out the back door and left her alone. I take back everything I thought about him when I first got here, Lord. Please don’t let him be gone. I’m going to need a friend and lots of support, she prayed again.

She had a moment of panic until he came from the kitchen with two opened bottles of beer in his hands. He handed one to her and downed a third of the other one before he went back to the sofa and sat down on one end.

“I thought you’d left me to the wolves all by myself. It was a scary moment. I don’t even know you, Sawyer O’Donnell, but please promise you’ll stick around.”

“I gave Gladys my word I’d stay for a year,” he said.

She exhaled loudly. “We got off on the wrong foot. I’m tired and weary from driving and worried that I made the wrong decision in coming here, so I’m sorry for aiming my gun at you.”

“Same here. I’m not a bit sorry that I took this job, but I wish to hell Fiddle Creek wasn’t right in the middle of two feuding families,” he said.