The Buckhorn Brothers Box Set: Sawyer\Morgan\Gabe\Jordan (73 page)

Not in the least daunted by that black expression, Jordan shoved his door open and stepped out of the car, addressing Morgan over the roof. “You’ve got about the lousiest damn timing of any man I’ve ever known!”

Morgan, red-eyed and looking mean, made a sound reminiscent of a snarl. “I’m leaving that distinction to you, Jordan. And you better have one helluva good excuse for this, otherwise I’m liable to kick your ass all the way home—where my sick wife and fussing baby girl are waiting.”

Jordan prepared to blast him with his own ire, made hotter out of unreasoning sexual frustration. But he’d barely gotten two sputtering words out before Georgia shoved her door open, making Morgan back up a pace. She climbed out of the police car, faced him with a serene expression fit for a queen, and said, “You can handle this little family squabble later. I, for one, would like to get this over with so I can get home.”

* * *

I
T WAS ALL
Georgia could do to keep herself from trembling. The man staring down at her had the most ferocious demeanor she’d ever witnessed on man or rabid dog. Besides being enormous, he was dark and so layered in thick muscle she felt dwarfed beside him.

And here she’d thought Jordan was huge.

Actually, the two men were of a similar height, but where Jordan appeared athletic, lean and toned, this man looked like he could eat gravel for breakfast.

Despite her resolve, she began quaking like a wet Chihuahua. And then suddenly Jordan was at her side.

“Knock it off, Morgan. You’re scaring her.”

When Jordan’s hands settled on her shoulders, she didn’t move away. She should have, being that Jordan had the power to turn her knees to jelly and her insides to fire.
She’d let him kiss her.
The reality of that wasn’t to be borne.

The man had the most sinfully seductive voice she’d ever heard, even when insulting and baiting her. She’d done the unthinkable, all because his voice had softened her, melting away her will and her resolve. She scowled at herself, feeling the shame claw at her. She didn’t like men—not at all. Not for friends, certainly not for lovers.

Most definitely not for a one-night stand, which from what she could deduce, was what Jordan Sommerville was after. He’d made no pretense of liking her or approving of her in any way. The arrogant jerk.

She forced herself to meet the sheriff’s gaze. “Actually, you’re not. Scaring me, that is.” The lie sounded credible even to her own ears, though neither man seemed to believe her. “So if it’s all the same to you I’d just as soon get out of this rain and get going.”

Morgan snorted, eyeing her with a mix of clear annoyance, and perhaps a touch of approval. “So anxious to spend a night in jail, are you?”

She nearly staggered. “Jail? But…” Her stomach suddenly felt queasy, her knees weak. She couldn’t, absolutely couldn’t stay away all night. Swallowing hard, and hating what she had to say even before the words left her mouth, she forced herself to meet the sheriff’s gaze. “I have to go home. Tonight.”

Morgan’s eyes narrowed. “Got a husband waiting for you?”

She shook her head and felt a raindrop slither down her nose. “Two children.”

Jordan’s hands bit reflexively into her shoulders.
“What?”

Georgia felt hemmed in by testosterone. The sheriff looked too grim by half, and she could feel the tension radiating off Jordan. She shifted her shoulders slightly at the pressure of his fingers and he loosened his hold, then turned her around to face him.

“You have kids?” His eyes were like green fire.

She lifted her chin. “Yes.”

The shock on his face was replaced with disgust. “Where the hell is your husband?”

She owed him nothing, certainly no explanations. “Ex-husband. And I have no idea.” Jordan’s brows smoothed out, and she added, “But wherever he is, I hope he stays there. Now, are you done with your interrogation?”

The sheriff snorted. “Maybe you should ask me that.”

Jordan, no longer looking like a thundercloud, pulled her behind his back. Georgia couldn’t see around him, but she heard him plain enough as he addressed his brother.

“You’re not going to arrest her, Morgan, and you know it, so quit taking your bad temper out on her.”

The sheriff seemed to be spoiling for a fight. “Or what?”

“Or I’ll tell Misty.”

Georgia had no idea who Misty was or why her name would make the sheriff relent, but that’s exactly what happened. Sheriff Hudson still sounded annoyed, but no longer so angry. “It’s a lousy night for you to do this to me, Jordan.”

“Yeah, well, it wasn’t my idea for you to be called, you know.”

“No? What was your idea? To start an all out brawl? I thought you came along to see that there was no trouble, not to insure that there was.”

“I didn’t cause the trouble. I was only…”

His words trailed off as Georgia stepped around him and headed for the bar. If the fool men wanted to stand around in the rain and discuss the situation to death, that was fine with her. But now that she felt certain she wouldn’t be locked up, she had a better way to spend her time.

Before she’d gone five feet, Jordan’s hand closed around her elbow. “Where do you think you’re going?”

With a sigh, she drew up short and turned to face him. She shook back one of the long sleeves of his jacket to free a hand, and then shoved her hair out of her face. Her makeup, she knew, was a disaster.

Not that she cared.

Jordan’s hold on her arm was gentle. His light brown hair hung over his brow, now more wet than otherwise, and his eyes reflected the bar lights, appearing almost…hungry. She looked quickly away. “I’ve got money on the stage. If I don’t get it now, Bill will abscond with it and I’ll have wasted the night for nothing. Since you two don’t seem in a big hurry to rush off, and the other sheriff is apparently done inside—”

“Bill?”

He did seem to get hung up on every male name she mentioned. “The owner of the bar. The man you came to see before you got…sidetracked.” She tried to pull away but Jordan wasn’t letting go.

He turned to Morgan. “Can you give us just a moment?”

“Just.” Morgan didn’t look happy over the concession, but then, she doubted that this one ever looked happy. “Malone will only stay in bed when I’m there to force her to it. Otherwise, you know how she is. She’ll be up and running around, making herself feverish again….”

“We’ll be quick. Why don’t you go warm up the car?”

With a shrug, the sheriff turned away. Georgia watched him go with relief. “Who’s Malone?”

“His wife, Misty.”

So it was his wife that Jordan had threatened him with? That seemed curious to Georgia.

“Why does he call her Malone…never mind.” Disgusted with herself, Georgia turned away. She didn’t care about these men or their strange ways. She walked briskly into the bar, doing her best to ignore the warm touch of Jordan’s hand on her arm as he kept pace with her. Even through his coat sleeve, she could feel his strength, his heat. And for some absurd reason, she reacted to it. He had her thinking things she hadn’t thought in years, contemplating pleasures she was certain didn’t even exist.

Bill was just scooping up the money off the stage when they walked in. Jordan released her and she marched forward, saying sweetly, “Why thank you, Bill. I so appreciate you looking after my money for me.”

Bill had the kind of slick good looks that he assumed would get him anything he wanted from women. To Georgia, his perfectly styled blond hair, dark blue eyes, and capped teeth only emphasized what a fraud he was. She didn’t trust him one iota and never would.

Bill flashed her a surprised look. “Georgia! I thought you were gone.”

“Almost.” She stuck out her hand expectantly and Bill tucked the money closer to his chest. “I’m waiting,” she said, well used to having to deal with Bill and his miserly ways. Like most men, he had a self-serving streak a mile wide, a selfish attitude whenever it came to money and he didn’t hesitate to screw someone when he thought he could get away with it.

“What about the damages to my bar?” he blustered, and cast a nasty look at Jordan Sommerville.

Georgia glanced at Jordan, too, and saw that he had an expression almost as fierce as his brother’s. It was the same look he’d worn earlier, when Larry had held on to her wrist. He’d said he was furious…because he thought she might be hurt.

She turned away. “That wasn’t my doing, Bill, and you know it. Take up your grievances with the boys locked away. But give me my money.” When Bill still dithered, looking undecided as to whether or not he had to obey, she narrowed her eyes and said, “You know I can dance anywhere, Bill. Don’t push me. I need the money.”

With a foul curse that would have embarrassed her as little as a month ago, Bill thrust the wad of bills into her hands. Most of them were ones, but altogether, it should amount up to a hundred dollars or more, money she needed to make repairs to the house she’d recently bought. With a sugary sweet, utterly false smile, she muttered, “Thank you.”

She turned to Jordan, saw his look of contempt, and sniffed. Sanctimonious jerk. “I’m ready if you are.”

Jordan held the saloon door open for her and kept stride with her on the way to the large black sport utility vehicle his brother drove. Some official car, she thought, eyeing the shiny black four-wheel-drive Bronco.

The two sheriffs had been talking, but as she and Jordan neared the vehicle, they parted ways. Sheriff Hudson got behind the wheel.

The rain had almost let up, but a chill had settled in that seemed to seep into her bones. Her bare legs were freezing and she’d somehow managed to step into a puddle, getting both feet soaked. She would have changed clothes, but the sheriff was in an obvious hurry to get going and she didn’t want to push her luck. The quicker she got this over with, the quicker she could get home. She was so weary she ached all the way down to her toes and more than anything she needed a good night’s sleep.

But once she got home, there would be chores to do. If she didn’t get some of the laundry taken care of, they’d all be running around naked. She had no doubt the sink was full of dishes, and there were bills that had to be paid before she lost her utilities.

She was so drawn into her thoughts, she nearly tripped over Jordan when he held the front door of the Bronco open for her. Belatedly, she realized he expected her to ride to the sheriff’s station sandwiched between two overwhelmingly male bodies.

“I’ll sit in back,” she offered, hoping she sounded merely casual, not concerned.

Jordan narrowed his gaze on her. “You’ll ride up front. I want to talk to you.”

He appeared determined and unrelenting, so she looked past him to see the sheriff. “Excuse me,” she said, and Morgan Hudson turned his head to look at her, then lifted one black brow. “I’d prefer to ride in the back like any other criminal being arrested.”

Morgan opened his mouth to say something, but snapped it shut when she yelped. Jordan’s hands were secure on her waist as he literally tossed her into the front seat and climbed in beside her too quickly for her to do anything about it. He looked at his brother and said, “Drive,” and with a slight, barely suppressed chuckle, the good sheriff did just that.

3

G
EORGIA STEAMED
she was so angry. At herself as much as at the two outrageous, oversized men. They’d driven a few minutes in silence when she finally couldn’t hold it in any longer and growled, “I don’t like you.”

Jordan started, evidently surprised that she’d spoken after being quiet for so long. And Morgan grinned. She’d already decided that the sheriff was either frowning or grinning—there wasn’t much middle ground.

“Which of us are you talking to?” Morgan asked.

She was just disgruntled enough to bark, “Both.” Unfortunately, Jordan seemed unfazed by her pique and Morgan was amused.

She was still pondering what to do and how to get everything done tonight when Jordan gave Morgan directions to her home, telling her without words that he was indeed familiar with the old farmhouse she’d bought.

But more important than that, she realized they were taking her straight home, rather than to the station.

“Excuse me,” she said, giving her attention to the sheriff while doing her best to ignore Jordan pressed up against her side, “but if you’re only going to take me home, why did I just leave my car at the bar? Do you realize what a nuisance this will be now for me to get it?”

Morgan shrugged. “Don’t worry about your car. We’ll take care of it in the morning. Isn’t that right, Jordan?”

Jordan made a noncommittal sound that she wasn’t interested in deciphering. “I don’t
want
you to take care of it!”

Jordan stared out his window. Morgan glanced at her, then back to the road. “Not much choice, now. There was a lot going on. I figured it’d be easier this way, rather than hassling with the arresting sheriff. He wanted you two taken off, so I took you off. And as to that, I suppose I should give you a ticket or something.” She watched the sheriff rub his thick neck, as if pondering a difficult predicament. “You see, the thing is, Jordan said you weren’t to blame and I’ve never known him to tell me a pickle. But I gotta say, I am curious as hell as to why you were picked up, why you were there in the first place, and why you’re dressed that way.”

He leaned around to see Jordan, and added, “And what the hell you’ve got to do with it.”

Though she knew the sheriff was only trying to distract her, Georgia stiffened. “He has nothing to do with me! But he did attempt to intervene…well, sort of…”

Jordan made another exasperated sound and interrupted. “I don’t need you to explain for me, Georgia.”

She shrugged, stung by his biting tone. “Fine.” Crossing her arms, she leaned back in the seat, silent again.

Morgan began to whistle. After a moment, he said thoughtfully, “I think I have it figured out.”

“Morgan,” Jordan said by way of warning.

“You’re a dancer at the bar, right?” At her stiff nod, he continued. “And Jordan here got a little too enthused over your…skill. Understandable. Although Jordan is a little slow on the uptake sometimes, at least where women are concerned—”