Saddled and Spurred: A Blacktop Cowboys Novel (27 page)

“I’m the last person to pass judgment on anyone.”

So over the next half hour, Harper told Janie about Bran, the work she’d been doing on his ranch, and their intense sexual relationship, all without divulging his name. Because if Janie had lived here, even years ago, chances were good she knew Bran.

Immediately after she finished sharing her story, Janie demanded, “Are you in love with him?”

Yes.
“I don’t know. But it doesn’t matter anyway, because I’m leaving.”

“You sure about that?”

Harper shrugged.

The band started tuning. More people wandered through the doors, shaking off the cold. Both she and Janie kept an eye on the arriving patrons. “See anyone you know?”

“I recognize a few. It’s probably a good thing the lighting in here is bad and no one will recognize me.”

“Why? Did you leave town in the dead of night with the townsfolk’s money earmarked for the orphanage? And they sent a hanging posse after you?”

Janie laughed. But her mirth vanished suddenly and she muttered, “Shit,” then ducked behind Harper.

“See someone you know?”

“My ex-husband. Dammit. I knew this was a bad idea.”

“Where is he?” Harper asked, craning her neck, without it seeming like she was trying to get a gander at who might be Janie’s ex.

“Ladies. May I join you?”

Harper stopped trying to block Janie with her body and turned to face the male voice. “Renner? What’re you doing here?”

“You know him?” Janie said.

She wasn’t sure if Renner wanted it to be common knowledge that he’d come into Get Nailed for a manicure. She deflected the question and asked Janie, “How do
you
know him?”

“He’s my boss.”

“Boss?” Harper repeated.

“I’m the interior designer and all-around slave for his hunting lodge and spa project.”

Renner rolled his eyes. “I haven’t even started to slave you yet, Janie dear. Anyway, I’m glad to see you two have met.” He yanked an extra chair from the table next to theirs.

The band launched into a peppy cover version of Faith Hill’s “This Kiss.”

Janie grabbed Renner’s hand, held it between her hands prayerlike, and begged, “Please, please, please, you have to dance with me. Right now.”

“Why?”

“Because he’s here.”

“No shit. Where?”

“Right over there. To your left.”

“Oh. Okay. I see him.” Renner appeared to regroup. “Lemme get my coat off.” As soon as he hung it on the back of the bar chair, Janie was dragging him away.

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 fucking 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 fuck 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 fuckin’ 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 fuck do you think you’re doin’ with my wife?”

The air went absolutely still.

Janie sidestepped Renner and poked Abe in the chest again. “Wife? I haven’t been your wife for a long damn time, Abe Lawson, so you can just back off.”

Bran caught movement out of the corner of his eye and turned to see Harper—his Harper—whispering in Renner’s ear.

Renner smiled at whatever Harper had said and turned his head, so their mouths were a kiss apart. They stared at each other for a beat or two, as if sharing some secret, and then grinned.

First of all, what was Harper doing here? Second of all, when the hell had she gotten so freakin’ chummy with that smoothtalking bastard? Bran had an overwhelming urge to punch Renner right in the kisser.

Then Renner wrapped his arms around Janie’s middle, picked her up, and carted her off the dance floor. Harper followed, laughing, ducking Janie’s legs and arms.

Abe emitted a primitive growl that Bran had never heard before, which matched the possessive yowl in Bran’s head. When Abe started after Renner, both Bran and Ike held him back.

“Let me fuckin’ go, right now. He has no right—”

“No,
you
have no right. You need to chill out,” Ike said.

“I agree,” Bran said. “I think it’s time to call it a night.”

“Fuck that,” Abe snapped. “We just got here.”

Bran stood nose to nose with Abe. “Sit your ass down and forget about her.”

Abe moved his head and stared over Bran’s shoulder with such a look of longing that Bran felt it as surely as a punch in the gut. No need for Abe to say, “I can’t,” because Bran knew. He’d always known that Abe had never gotten over Janie.

Christ. What a fucking mess.

Ike clapped Abe on the back. “Come on. Let’s sit down and get another drink, if we’re stayin’.”

Finally Abe nodded and sauntered off the dance floor, his death glare focused on the table where Janie and Harper were cozied up to Renner.

Before they sat, Nancy grabbed Abe’s arm. “I said I’m ready to go home, Abe.”

“So go,” Abe shot back.

“What is wrong with you?” Nancy demanded. “You’re acting like a complete idiot. In public, no less. And what’s that garbage about you calling that woman your wife?”

“She’s my ex-wife.”

That seemed to further incense Nancy. “I want to leave right now.”

“So leave. I ain’t stoppin’ you.”

Yeah, Hank was gonna be damn sorry he missed this. Too bad the bar didn’t serve popcorn.

Nancy’s mouth tightened. “I rode here with you, remember?”

“Then I guess you’re stayin’ if you’re waiting on me for a ride home, aren’t you?”

“No. I will not stand here and watch you make a fool of yourself and make a fool of me.”

“Your choice. But I
am
sitting down. And I
am
staying.” Abe sat, which he never did when Nancy was still standing.

“I mean it, Abe. This is not a joke to me. If you don’t take me home right now, we’re done. For good.”

Abe shrugged, almost absentmindedly. “I understand. To be honest, I’m tired of fighting with everybody in my life that matters about . . .”
You
went unsaid. “It’s probably best we call it quits anyway.”

The pinched look left her face and her mouth dropped open in shock. “What? You’re serious. After all I did—”

“To try to destroy his family relationships?” Bran supplied. “Yeah, he’s serious.”

“I wasn’t speaking to you,” Nancy snapped.

Ike grabbed his coat. “Enough. I’ll take you home, Nancy, but we’re leaving right now.”

“Fine.” She took her time buttoning her coat, glaring at Abe, who was too busy glaring at Janie’s table to notice.

When Nancy realized Abe really didn’t give a shit if she left or not, she whirled around and stomped away.

Ike drained his beer before he followed her.

The waitress brought a fresh round. Abe contemplated his bottle for a long time.

“What’s up?” Bran asked.

“Besides havin’ my head up my ass?” He snorted. “Was Nancy always such a manipulative bitch?”

“Yes. And I can safely speak for all of us when I say I’m glad you finally saw the light. I ain’t gonna claim she’s not your type, but we never understood what you saw in her.”

Abe sighed. “Eight years I’ve been divorced from Janie. Eight years I’ve been fucked up by it. I was happy to find a willing woman and get laid a couple of times a year, until Hank and Lainie . . .” He sighed again. “I don’t begrudge Hank his happiness and I love Lainie like a sister. Seein’ them happy reminded me that I want that happiness for myself. A wife and kids. A woman wasn’t gonna fall in my lap, so I started looking for one.”

“And you found Nancy.”

“She really is different when it’s just the two of us. Anyway, I was gonna ask Nancy to move in with me. Then I see Janie for the first time in two years . . . and it’s like . . . what are the fucking odds? The night I decide to carve out a new life for myself, my ex-wife shows up. Talk about a cosmic clusterfuck.”