help. She could hear Allan Jackson belting out the words to “Don’t Rock the Jukebox.” The drumbeat thumped the windowpanes until Jessica was ready to scream in frustration.
“Damn the man!” she shouted to the world at large.
“YOU DID WHAT?” Derrick hooted in disbelief.
“You heard me,” Devlin said over his breakfast of cold cereal and orange juice. “I hooked up the stereo and drowned out the uproar caused by those exotic animals.”
Derrick tossed him a withering glance. “This is your idea of a compromise?”
“I didn’t get anywhere with the sheriff,” Devlin grumbled. “Porter charmed him to such extremes that Reed thinks she’s God’s gift to humanity. But Reed did convince Porter to cut her pond dam so we don’t have to haul water. She dug the trench last night.”
“So, to repay her, you hooked up a boom box and blew out her eardrums.”
Devlin shifted uncomfortably in his chair. “Well, how was I to know she was going to dig the trench until after the fact?”
Derrick slammed his fist on the table. Silverware and bowls bounced like Mexican jumping beans. “This is juvenile, Dev. You’re going to turn this into a grudge contest if you aren’t careful. I insist that you go over there tonight and do your damnedest to make amends. If Jessica is as community-minded and financially generous as the sheriff says, then you’re the one who is going to come off looking like a jerk…which reflects on me, because folks might think I’m a party to this nonsense, which I’m sure as hell not.”
Devlin glowered at his identical twin. “Are you going to sit here and tell me that you don’t mind chasing down cattle every other day?”
“Of course not, but I’ll fix fences if that’s what it takes to keep peace. I prefer to focus my free time on Cassie Dixon. She, being a woman and all, is sure to side with Jessica in this feud.” Derrick stared placatingly at his brother. “Please, Dev, bury the hatchet. Ask the woman out and get to know her before you pass judgment. Find out why she is caught up in this crusade, make her understand that the cattle and sheep are our livelihood and that ranchers are facing tough times. Try to become the great guy you were before Sandi Saxon screwed you over for that high-rolling lawyer and moved to Oklahoma City. Stop being so cautious and defensive when it comes to women.”
Having said his piece, Derrick rose to set his bowl and glass in the sink. “I’m going to change the oil and replace the hydraulic hoses on both tractors this morning while you clean out the drills and auger seed wheat into the trucks.” Derrick glanced out the window. “There are a few clouds piling up on the horizon, so maybe we’ll finally get some rain before we plant wheat.”
“It’d be nice if something went right,” Devlin muttered.
“Oh, before I forget, I won’t be here to cook supper tonight. Cassie invited me to her restaurant to eat with her. You’re on your own, bro.”
When Derrick strode off, Devlin hunched over the table, mulling over his brother’s criticism of the neighbor situation. Truth be known, Devlin enjoyed sparring with his feisty neighbor. She was quickwitted and sassy, and she amused him in a frustrated sort of way. Furthermore, he kind of liked the fact that she stood up to him.
As for setting up the boom box, it had seemed the perfect solution to muffle the unnerving noises. The tactic had made Jessica realize what Devlin and his cattle herd had been tolerating. But as it turned out, Porter had worn herself out trenching her pond dam—to be neighborly—and Devlin had kept her up most of the night with loud music. Damn, everything he tried to do in his dealings with Jessica kept backfiring on him.
Okay, so maybe it was time to try a different tack, bury the hatchet somewhere besides in Porter’s back. Devlin could do nice and gentlemanly if the mood suited him. And okay, so he did have a tendency to project Sandi Saxon’s failings on other women after she’d trampled his male pride into the ground. The experience had disillusioned and soured him on women, and he remained on guard to prevent getting hurt again.
One thing about playing nice with Jessica Porter, though, it would just be an act, a performance to form a truce. He already knew what Jessica was like when the thermometer attached to her temper shot through the roof. The woman was prickly, defensive and high-strung, which made it tough for Devlin, who was a little prickly, defensive and high-strung himself.
Well, he would consider this a test of his temper, patience and disposition, he told himself. This was a challenge. If he could deal with the dragon lady and get her to eat out of his hand, then he should be able to handle any woman.
Derrick was right, he mused. Devlin had allowed his disillusionment with Sandi to destroy potential relationships. But past was past. Sandi was a closed chapter in his life.
Resolved to negotiating a truce, Devlin crammed his bowl and glass in the dishwasher, then strode outside to tackle the chores that awaited him. After supper he’d get spruced up and drive over to the dragon…er, Miz Porter’s place. He’d dust off the manners he hadn’t used in a few years and do a little damage control.
The woman wouldn’t stand a chance when he turned on the charm, he tried to convince himself. He’d be so suave, debonair, gallant and courteous that the dragon…er, Miz Porter would forget why she was upset with him.
3
JESSICA WAS SO TIRED by the time she returned home from work that she had trouble putting one foot in front of the other. Thanks to Devil Devlin’s prank that caused sleep deprivation she had dozed off at her office and awakened to find a debit and expenditure form stuck to her face. If her secretary hadn’t volunteered to stay late to type up the tax sheets and drop them in the mail, Jessica couldn’t have gotten the federal forms and payroll checks completed on time. Teresa, devoted employee that she was, shooed Jessica from the office, insisting that she go home and get some rest.
That was precisely what Jessica planned to do—after tending her animals and mowing a few rounds on the riding mower. One glance at the ominous sky indicated a soggy weekend ahead. The TV meteorologists were forecasting a break in the drought that would undoubtedly test the strength of the trench Jessica dug in her pond dam.
Halfheartedly, Jessica made the rounds to feed her animals. As usual, Mother Goose followed like a shadow. After fueling the mower, Jessica shoved the machine into high gear. It was nearly dark before she found time to sit down, prop up her feet and nibble on the dinner she had nuked in the microwave oven.
A firm rap resounded at the door. Frowning curiously, Jessica set aside her plastic plate. She opened the door to see Devlin Callahan decked out in a starched and pressed Western shirt, trim-fitting blue jeans and polished boots. Her jaw dropped to her chest, and she stood there gaping at him like a tongue-tied idiot.
Good gracious, no man—especially not this man—had a right to look so devastatingly attractive. When he flashed her a knock-you-to-your-knees smile that generated enough wattage to see her through a blizzard, an unwilling jolt of attraction zapped her. In one tanned hand, which was devoid of jewelry, Devlin held a bouquet of roses.
Roses for her? Couldn’t be. The man hated her, she was sure of it.
Jessica was not mentally, physically or emotionally prepared to confront this handsome rascal. She was too exhausted to go another round with him, most especially when he looked like every woman’s secret dream standing there on her front porch.
