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have a secret weapon in Boone’s sister, a loan officer at the First National Bank. “With the budget Faith’s got us on, you should be able to afford the drive to the port in Galveston real soon. Maybe even the gas to get back.”
    Josh straightened, laughing, but the sound was cut off by a loud round of catcalls rising from the corner. Dax looked over his shoulder in time to see Bubba and his bubbas nearly topple the barrel holding their card game as they jockeyed for position at the window.
    Elbows gouged and shoved. Bootheels landed on boot toes. Hats were jerked from heads to clear lines of sight. Reminded Dax of a bunch of bawling calves jammed into a chute. “Looks like someone needs to put a lock on the beer cooler.”
    “Nope,” Josh said. “Looks like lunch.” He circled the counter and headed for his own window, this one tucked on the far side of an old wardrobe now stocked with square cans of unguent and dark brown bottles of antiseptics and thick leather gloves.
    Curious, Dax followed, leaning a raised arm along the window casing and squinting into the glare of the sun. The view that finally came into focus looked like way more than lunch to Dax.The woman bent across the front seat of the pickup, dragging a big, brown, grease-spotted grocery bag into her arms, had the most gorgeous ass Dax had seen in weeks. Course, the only asses he’d seen during those weeks belonged to the calves he’d been working, but still.
    All he needed now was for the front side to be as outstanding as the back. She straightened, wrapped one arm around the bag, and turned. Her dark jeans rode low on her hips and bunched around her boot vamps. The shoulder-hugging sleeves of her T-shirt showed off some mighty fine guns. But it was the way the same shirt lay flat against her belly and scooped low on her C-cup chest that made his mouth water.
    He blew out the breath straining his lungs to bursting, not exactly proud of the groan that came out on its tail.
    Hallelujah, and come to Papa.
    Josh chuckled. “You know who that is, don’t you?”
    Dax lifted his gaze to her face. Dark wavy hair, shoulder length, shining like strong coffee in the sun. A wide mouth with sweet peachy lips, and big bright eyes. Green, he’d bet. To go with the freckles on her nose.
    And no. If he’d seen this woman before, the two of them would be acquainted in the most intimate of ways. “Not a freakin’ clue.”
    “Then let me be the one to fill you in on some of the better things that have happened since you’ve been gone.” Josh slapped Dax on the shoulder before walking away. “That, my man, is Arwen Poole.”
    N ATURALLY THE ONE day Arwen decided to make the feed store run, it was Bubba Taylor and his goon squad who’d placed the order. If she’d thought to check the ticket before her spur of the moment decision, she would’ve gone after Dax another time.
    The problem with working the Wild Wild West were the predators that hovered at watering holes. And Arwen hated feeling like prey.
    A quick scan of the parking lot failed to turn up a truck door sporting a D hooked over a T that was the Dalton Ranch brand. What she did see—and sense crawling all over her—were a half dozen pair of shifty eyes, Bubba Taylor’s being the beadiest.
    She hefted the bag higher, holding it directly in front of her as she climbed the wooden steps to the porch. Both creaked beneath her weight, but neither was as loud as the hinges groaning when Bubba pushed open the screen door.
    “Hey, Arwen.” He winked, taking up space she needed to get by. He kept his hand on the wooden frame, the torn-away sleeves of his plaid shirt revealing a thick tuft of hair and his disregard of deodorant. “Long time no see. Thought Amy might be delivering today.”
    Arwen shoved the bag into his hands, causing him to step back and out of her way. Only then did she take another breath. “Sorry, Bubba. You’re stuck with me.”
    “I don’t mind.” He looked her up and down,