Fit To Be Tied. Carol Finch
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“Okay, but polish up your smile and spray on a coat of charm,” the sheriff demanded. “Work out your differences with Jessica, or you’ll both answer to me. Got it?”
Oh, he had it, all right—a pain in the lower region of his anatomy that went by the name of Jessica Porter.
Swearing under his breath, Devlin piled into his pickup and aimed himself toward the ranch. He glanced over his shoulder toward the bed of the truck, which was heaped with new steel fence posts and rolls of shiny barbed wire. Damn, if only he could figure out a way to drown those alarming noises he wouldn’t be building new stretches of fence….
An idea hatched in his head and Devlin smiled for the first time all day—one that began before five o’clock, thanks to the racket at Porter’s zoo. Devlin made a U-turn and went to the farm supply store to purchase extension cords. Maybe piped music would muffle the howls, growls and screeches.
Grinning devilishly, Devlin made the extra purchases, then headed toward home. He’d see how Porter liked listening to blaring music all night. She might have grown accustomed to being serenaded by her zoo, but lively, fast-tempo honky-tonk music would bring her straight out of bed. Once she got a taste of her own medicine, she’d know how Devlin reacted to those roars and shrieks.
JESSICA WIPED the sweat from her brow and surveyed the trench she’d dug in the pond dam. Thanks to her cantankerous, tattletale neighbor, the sheriff insisted she allow water to flow from her pond to the stream that meandered across Devlin’s pasture. Jessica was ashamed to say it hadn’t occurred to her that she had unintentionally stifled Devlin’s water supply and he’d been forced to haul water. That was inconsiderate and unneighborly of her.
Maybe she had been entirely too hard on the man, she thought as she shoveled more dirt. It wasn’t Devlin’s fault that his good looks and muscular physique reminded her of her ex-fiancé and that she had transferred her frustration to the cowboy.
That was not the mature approach, she told herself. How many times had Jessica advised Teresa not to compare her abusive ex-husband to the men she met in Buzzard’s Grove? More times than she cared to count, Jessica realized. Teresa had begun to put her painful past behind her and had developed a crush on Sheriff Osborn. Teresa was getting on with her life. Eight months after her humiliating relationship with Rex, Jessica was still afraid to trust a man.
“You aren’t being fair,” Jessica said to herself.
Mother Goose honked as if in agreement, then fluttered into the pond to take an evening swim.
While water trickled through the V Jessica dug in the dam, she carted rocks up the steep incline to insure future rains didn’t erode her waterway and empty her pond. Smiling, Jessica watched the pair of coyotes and their pups, the red foxes and a trio of horses drink from the pond. It was gratifying to see that the animals had learned to coexist in this sanctuary.
So why couldn’t she get along with Devlin Callahan?
Recalling the sheriff’s request to resolve her differences with Devlin, Jessica vowed to make an effort to be civil.
While she made her rounds to feed the exotics housed in covered pens and cages, she reminded herself that she needed to mow and clean up around the sanctuary this weekend. The local grade school students would be arriving for their field trip. Since Jessica’s sanctuary was listed on the association’s register, she had received several calls to schedule field trips. The money would help to defray costs for more pens and feed. Her exotic family would continue to grow as long as she had space.
Weary from digging the trench in the parched earth, Jessica trudged to the house to bathe. Partially revived, she opened the freezer to select a microwave dinner.
She had considered swinging by the new restaurant at the end of Main Street to pick up a carry-out meal, but she had been late getting away from the office, and she had to feed her animals before dark.
Ah well, Jessica didn’t consider herself Suzie Homemaker, and she wasn’t one of those people who lived to eat; she simply ate to live. But every once in a while she craved a thick, juicy steak, home-cooked vegetables and dessert. It wasn’t that she couldn’t cook, it was just that she didn’t have much time, what with getting her business off the ground, tending the exotics and doing minor refurbishing projects inside the house.
A faint smile twitched her lips as she recalled her shaky start in life, her difficult teens and her struggle to acquire a college education. The kid no one wanted—least of all her irresponsible, pleasure-seeking parents—had made something of herself. In fact, she could be living off the interest on the money she made when she sold the hot property in Tulsa. But Jessica didn’t want to be a recluse on her sanctuary. She secretly longed to fit in, to feel a connection, to be accepted and respected in Buzzard’s Grove.
So far so good—except for her feud with Devlin Callahan. He was the thorn in her paw, and Sheriff Osborn had all but ordered her to make nice to that hot-tempered rancher.
Okay, fine, she would apologize for biting off Devlin’s head and insulting him. She could be nice to the man if she really tried. She could also move the big cats’ and bears’ cages farther west to the clump of cottonwood trees, so the overhanging limbs would trap the sounds. Yeah, she could do that this weekend, if she put in double days. The pens were built on skids so she could hook a chain to her car bumper and pull them to different locations.
Jessica sighed drowsily as she lay sprawled on the sofa. Man, it had been a long week, and it wasn’t over yet. She could use some shut-eye so she would have the energy to tackle the list of weekend chores.
She nodded off, only to bolt straight up on the sofa when blaring country music rattled the window-panes. Garth Brooks was singing “Ain’t Goin’ Down Till the Sun Comes Up,” and the coyotes and wolves were howling to beat the band.
“What in blue blazes?” Jessica staggered to her feet and wobbled unsteadily to the window. Darkness had settled over the rolling Oklahoma hills. She could barely make out the glow of miniature red lights just beyond the barbed wire fence that separated her property from Rocking C Ranch.
It only took a moment to realize Devlin had rigged up his stereo system to counter the sounds of her exotic animals. Swearing, Jessica made a beeline for the back door to determine how her animals were reacting to the earsplitting music. Sure enough, the animals were pacing in their cages. Toucans and cockatoos were flinging themselves against the wire pens in an attempt to escape. The horses were thundering across the pasture to seek refuge in the trees.
Muttering, Jessica snatched up the phone book, then quickly dialed the number for Rocking C Ranch. Impatiently, she waited for Devil Devlin to answer.
“Hello,” came a thick, velvety voice that oozed sensuality. Jessica refused to be affected by that seductive voice, because she knew what a jackass the man was.
“Devlin Callahan, I—”
“Hold on a sec.”
A moment later the same voice was back, but Jessica ignored the unwilling tingle that slid through her body. She was mad as a wet hen and she wasn’t about to let this man bedevil her with his sexy bedroom voice. Plus, there was no telling who was in the bedroom with him when she interrupted and was forced to wait for him to finish whatever it was he was doing.
“Callahan, this is Porter,” she snapped. “Get your fanny over here and pull the plug on the blaring music. Now!”
“Sorry, darlin’,” he drawled, “but I’m just too tired to get out of bed. I was up at the crack of dawn rounding up cattle.”
“Tough,” she spluttered angrily. “Your loud music is terrifying my animals!”
“Now they know how my cattle and sheep feel,” he said unsympathetically.
“Look, Callahan, I’ll have you know I spent the evening digging a trench so your cattle would have water. Now I’m exhausted and I need sleep.”
“Thanks, that’s mighty neighborly of you,