Saddled and Spurred (Blacktop Cowboys 2)

Over his shoulder, Renner tossed out, “Order us another round of whatever you’re drinking, Harper, and make mine a double.”

Harper nonchalantly looked over to see who had sent Janie scurrying to the dance floor. She recognized the hat right off.

Bran.

Holy crap. Her vision dimmed. Blood roared in her head so loud it drowned out the band. What if the ex-husband Janie had been talking about was . . . Bran? Stupidly, Harper had assumed Bran had never been married, but she’d never thought to ask.

She saw Bran’s eyes scanning the dance floor and knew the instant he recognized Janie. His eyes narrowed to tiny slits. He cocked his head, as if he couldn’t quite believe who he was seeing. Then he herded his group—Abe, Nancy, and Ike—toward a table in the back. But Nancy wrinkled her nose and chose a table right up front. Close to the dance floor.

Was that panic in Bran’s eyes? If he didn’t want to run into his ex, why didn’t he just leave?

What if he still had feelings for her?

Harper slammed her drink, knowing she had no right to be jealous. She had no claim on him. She fumed, deciding it was typical behavior for closemouthed Bran not to tell her something important, oh, like, he’d been married before, for crap sake.

Fortunately, Bran hadn’t seen her. But Harper could see him. She signaled the cocktail waitress for another round, times three, and settled back to watch the show, hoping it wouldn’t be one of those tearjerkers where she cried at the end.

This was not good. Not good at all.

Bran should’ve stayed home instead of letting Abe badger him into coming to Buckeye Joe’s. The idiot was still trying to prove to his friends that Nancy wasn’t so bad—by forcing them to spend time with her. Wisely, Hank and Lainie had declined to participate in this farce. Hell, Bran had to bribe Ike to get him to show up. Even Abe’s best friend, Max, had refused to come. So far, no one in their group had given Nancy the stamp of approval, no matter how hard Abe tried to push it.

He didn’t like Nancy any better than anyone else in their group did. But Abe had always stood up for Bran, same as he had for Hank, so Bran had slapped on a smile and said, “Sure,” to a night out with Nasty Nancy.

Didn’t it just f**king figure that Janie had picked tonight, of all nights, to make an appearance in Muddy Gap? After eight years? Abe would blow a freakin’ gasket when he saw her.

Jesus. He needed a goddamn drink. The cocktail waitress took their order: a glass of white wine for Nancy, after she’d demanded to look at a wine list—in Buckeye Joe’s, for chrissake—and three Bud Lights for him, Abe, and Ike. Bran was half tempted to order a couple of shots. As close as they were to the dance floor, he figured he’d need the whiskey sooner rather than later.

Ike leaned forward and spoke to Abe. “Did you buy any of them extra calves from Olson’s?”

“About a dozen.”

“Can we please can the cow talk?” Nancy complained.

Bran bit back his response that she’d better get used to it if she was involved with a cattleman. “What would you like to talk about, Nancy?”

“I’m so glad you asked. I saw this fascinating documentary on . . .”

As soon as she uttered the word documentary, Bran tuned her out. As did Ike. And if he wasn’t mistaken, Abe’s eyes glazed over as he greedily gulped his beer.

The band segued into a slow song and Bran expected Nancy would nag Abe to dance. But she kept yammering on.

And on.

All of a sudden Abe’s body stiffened.

Shit.

Nancy nattered on, oblivious to the change in Abe’s demeanor.

However, Ike noticed and exchanged a concerned look with Bran because he also had seen Janie on the dance floor.

Now everyone witnessed Janie and Renner Jackson doing a country version of dirty dancing, with zero discretion.

The next thing he knew, Abe was out of his chair and stomping toward the grinding couple.

Dammit. Not good. Bran chased after him.

Abe latched on to Janie’s upper arm and wrenched her away from Renner. “What in the hell are you doin’ here, Janie?”

“Darning socks. What the hell does it look like I’m doing, Abe?”

Her response took Abe aback. He wasn’t used to the woman he used to call “sweet plain Jane” snapping at him. He loomed over her, since she didn’t even reach his shoulder. “You’re actin’ like you want him to f**k you right here on the dance floor.”

Janie drilled him in the sternum with her index finger. “Maybe I do. What business is it of yours?”

“Don’t you f**kin’ push me, cupcake. You ain’t gonna like the results.”

She did just that. She placed her hands flat on his chest and pushed him.

Abe wasn’t expecting it and he stumbled back a step.

“Cupcake?” she repeated. “You haven’t changed a bit.”

The other dancers had stopped moving and a crowd gathered.

Including Nancy. Her petulant “What is going on?” was largely ignored.

“And it looks like you have changed, cupcake.” Abe flashed his teeth. “And not necessarily for the better.”

“Why don’t we all just take this down a notch?” Renner suggested, stepping between the warring couple, using his body to block Janie from Abe.

Abe got right in Renner’s face. “What the f**k do you think you’re doin’ with my wife?”

The air went absolutely still.