Fit To Be Tied: Fit To Be Tied / The Lyon's Den. Carol Finch

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Fit To Be Tied: Fit To Be Tied / The Lyon's Den - Carol  Finch


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into the barn to scatter grain for her feathered friend. By the time Jessica returned to the house to pop a frozen dinner into the microwave her mood had brightened considerably. She wondered if her grouchy neighbor’s mood had eased after their heated encounter. Not that she cared if he left mad and stayed that way. All she cared was that he left and never came back.

      Fact was that Devlin Callahan’s appearance triggered bitter memories of the time when she had fallen for a handsome face and muscled body. She wouldn’t make that mistake twice. Until she met a man who was willing to give as much as he took, someone who wasn’t interested in the tidy sum of money she’d made when she sold her property on the outskirts of Tulsa, she planned to avoid men, especially the ones who looked as if they stepped off a poster for Tall, Dark and Handsome. No, sirree, she wasn’t going to fall for some hunk of a cowboy who had the disposition of a wounded rhinoceros.

      Lord, she still couldn’t believe that idiotic man tried to blame his problem with his flighty cattle on her, expected her to pay for his time and expenses. What unmitigated gall he had!

      Refusing to give Devil Devlin another thought, Jessica shoved her frozen dinner in the microwave, then pivoted to pour herself a tall glass of iced tea.

      DERRICK CALLAHAN slopped three hamburger patties, swimming in cream soup, on his plate, then glanced over his shoulder when he heard the footsteps that heralded his brother’s arrival. “’Bout time. I decided not to wait any longer. I have a date tonight and I have no intention of showing up late just because you can’t get your sorry butt back here on time.”

      “Date? In the middle of the week?” Devlin inquired as he plucked up his plate for the buffet-style meal sitting on the counter.

      “Yeah? So?” Derrick challenged. “What’s the matter with that? People do date on weekdays, you know.”

      “Only if they’re getting serious.” Devlin scooped up a large helping of fried okra, then moved on to the bowl of fried potatoes. “You and that new restaurant owner getting serious, are you?”

      “Maybe,” Derrick mumbled noncommittally, then pivoted toward the oblong oak table that sat in the middle of the spacious dining area. He used his free hand to scrape scattered mail out of his way, then plopped down on a chair. “So, how did your encounter go with the neighbor lady?”

      Devlin might not have been the sharpest knife in the drawer, but he knew a diversion tactic when he heard one. His brother didn’t want to discuss his feelings for Cassie Dixon, the vivacious brunette whose new café was the talk of the town. The fact that Derrick wanted to keep his relationship with Cassie a secret from his own brother, his only living relative, suggested that Derrick was already in over his head and sinking fast. Not that Devlin blamed his brother. Cassie Dixon had class, style and personality—unlike the female fruitcake with the attitude who lived down the road.

      “Well?” Derrick prompted.

      Devlin glanced up from his heaped plate. “Well, what?”

      “Did you convince our neighbor to relocate her zoo so it won’t disturb our livestock?”

      “No, she slammed the door in my face after lambasting me with insults,” Devlin grumbled as he grabbed his fork. “The woman has a chip the size of Mount Rushmore on her shoulder, and her brain is obviously solid rock. There’s no getting through to her, not without a jackhammer and dynamite.”

      Derrick rolled his eyes, then stared at his brother. “In other words, you used your standard, give-’em-hell approach and butted heads with her. I distinctly remember telling you to use diplomacy.”

      “Diplomacy wouldn’t have done any good,” Devlin said.

      Derrick shook his head and sighed audibly. “It is totally beyond me why you didn’t use your lady-killer smile and charm on her. There isn’t an eligible female in Buzzard County who can resist you when you turn on the charm. You shouldn’t have gone over to the neighbor’s house while you were hot under the collar. I tried to tell you to wait until you’d cooled off. But no, you climbed off your horse after roundup and blazed off. I know how you operate, Dev. When in doubt you start yelling, as if that ever solves problems. It almost never works with women. Next time, try being tactful.”

      The last thing he needed was a lecture from his brother, who had a history of leaving the difficult situations for Devlin to solve. Diplomacy? Hell!

      “There won’t be a next time,” Devlin muttered crankily. “If you think the charming, chivalrous approach will work—and I’ll bet money that it won’t—then you can march your candy butt over there and try to reason with her. After all, you’ve got the identical smile and more charm than I do.”

      Derrick threw up his hand like a traffic cop. “Me? No way. Just because we’re identical twins doesn’t mean I’m going over there after you screwed up. She’ll take one look at me and think I’m you. I’ll get nowhere.”

      “Well, she started it with her snide remarks,” Devlin said self-righteously. “But I’ll admit that it didn’t help when I accidentally smacked her right between the eyes when she abruptly opened the door.”

      Derrick groaned in dismay. “Well, there you go. What do you expect? If it had been me—” he tapped himself proudly on the chest “—I would have politely rung the doorbell, not hammered on the door. The accident would never have happened.”

      Devlin bared his teeth and glared at his twin. The thing about being an identical twin was that you never felt as if you had your own individuality, especially when you had to sit across the table every night and work side by side every day. Especially when Derrick was forever handing out free advice, just because he was all of three minutes older and considered himself twice as smart.

      “I swear, Dev, you turned cantankerous after you went ape over that prissy redhead a few years back.”

      “Don’t remind me,” Devlin grumbled. “I got my heart trampled while you glided merrily from one woman to the next…until Cassie Dixon showed up in town and turned your brain into Malt-O-Meal.”

      Derrick scowled at the insult.

      Devlin scowled back.

      “Okay, so I didn’t get my heart broken at the tender age of twenty-five.”

      “Exactly my point, Derr. You aren’t jaded and cynical. You’re better prepared for dealing with Jessica Porter and the zoo. The woman is easy on the eye, which I’m sure you’ll appreciate. You need to get over there and talk some sense into her before those squalling, bellowing zoo animals scatter our livestock to kingdom come.”

      “Our neighbor lady is attractive?” Derrick asked.

      “A regular knockout,” Devlin confirmed, then munched on potatoes. “You probably won’t open your mouth and say the wrong thing. You can sweet-talk her into being reasonable, even if she thinks you’re me. In fact, you two might even hit it off—”

      “Oh, no,” Derrick loudly objected. “That’s the last thing I need right now. I’ve got a good thing going with Cassie and I’m not about to screw it up. I’m not getting within a mile of the neighbor’s house, for fear that Cassie might get the wrong idea.”

      “Tell Cassie it was me,” Devlin suggested. “It’s not like she’ll know the difference.”

      “Absolutely, positively not,” Derrick refused. “You made a mess of the negotiations with the Porter lady and you’re going to straighten this out!”

      Derrick swallowed the last bite of hamburger patty, then vaulted to his feet. “While you’re cleaning up the kitchen I’m going to shower, then I’m out of here. Cassie and I are going to watch a movie at her place. You can spend the evening practicing being charming, polite and diplomatic. Tomorrow night you can waltz over to the neighbor’s, bearing gifts of flowers and candy, and make amends.”

      “You want me to court trouble with a capital T?” Devlin crowed. “No way in hell!”

      “This


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