Fit To Be Tied: Fit To Be Tied / The Lyon's Den

“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 is your feud, bro. You started it and you can end it. I’m staying completely out of it.” Derrick frowned darkly. “Fix the problem, hear me?”

Devlin glared laser beams at his brother’s departing back. Fix the problem? Yeah, right. The only way to resolve the situation was to lock Jessica Porter in a cage with her exotic animals, then ship her off to a wildlife refuge that was far, far away from the Rocking C Ranch.

An hour later, while Devlin was relaxing on the porch swing, reading the biweekly newspaper, he heard an unearthly scream that made the hair on the back of his neck stand on end. Cougar, he thought, then gnashed his teeth when a bobcat growled in the distance.

Damn it to hell, about the same time every night Porter’s zoo orchestra struck up a racket that spoiled the serenity of the evening. Come morning, Devlin knew what he and his brother would be doing—chasing down spooked livestock.

“Charm the dragon lady?” he asked himself. “Pretend I actually like her? Not on your life.”

An unnerving roar exploded in the twilight. Devlin slammed down the newspaper, then stormed into the house. His neighbor’s zoo was disturbing his peace. Surely there was a law against that, wasn’t there? Devlin vowed to drag Sheriff Osborn out here to listen to this racket. Then maybe Devlin would get some results!

2

“GOOD MORNING, boss,” Teresa Harper greeted enthusiastically as Jessica walked into her office in Buzzard’s Grove.

“Morning.” Jessica set her briefcase on her desk and smiled at her red-haired secretary. Jessica still had trouble believing Teresa was the same desperate, withdrawn woman who had scurried into the office three months ago, begging for a job, vowing to do whatever necessary to earn money.

Teresa had lacked spirit and self-esteem and could barely make eye contact without ducking her head and wringing her hands. The poor, distraught woman had burst into tears and spilled her hard-luck story—in between sobs and shuddering gulps. Teresa had escaped an abusive husband, filed for divorce and moved to Buzzard’s Grove to put distance between her ex and herself.

The woman desperately needed to make a new start, and Jessica felt compelled to help, because she knew what it was like to be alone and frightened and unsure where the next meal would come from, unsure if she was wanted or accepted. Jessica had hired the woman on the spot, though Teresa lacked certain secretarial skills.

Determined to see that Teresa had a new life, a positive self-image, Jessica had located an efficiency apartment in town, paid the deposit from her own pocket, offered Teresa a few garments from her own wardrobe and won an instant and devoted friend and employee.

To repay the kindness, Teresa had worked extra hours at the office to hone her skills and made every effort to be courteous and professional while dealing with clients. Once Teresa familiarized herself with business procedures, she fielded calls so Jessica could immerse herself in tallying and balancing accounts. Being the only certified accountant in town brought Jessica more business than she wanted—which was why she was so slow in making repairs around her grand old farm home.

“Whew, yesterday was a killer, wasn’t it?” Teresa remarked as she handed Jessica a cup of steaming coffee and a homemade cinnamon roll. “I almost lost my cool when that grumpy old coot barreled in here to chew you up one side and down the other because you wouldn’t fudge on his income tax form. For a minute there, I had flashbacks of dealing with my ex. If you hadn’t come charging forward to take on Edgar Stokes I would have been cowering in the corner, reduced to tears.” Teresa smiled. “I truly admire the way you stand up to men and refuse to let them intimidate you. If I keep watching those self-help videos you gave me, maybe I’ll be a force to be reckoned with, too.”

Jessica bit into the warm cinnamon roll. Her taste buds went into full-scale riot. Not only was Teresa turning into a dream employee, but she really could cook. She brought deli sandwiches for lunch, coffee cakes for breakfast, and Jessica’s mouth watered like Pavlov’s dogs at first sniff.

“Thanks for the compliment, Teresa. I’ve had lots of practice holding my own against the pushy men of the world. Edgar Stokes was just a warm-up for the annoying character who showed up on my doorstep when I got home last night.”

Alarm registered in Teresa’s wide hazel eyes. “Oh, my gosh! The man didn’t try to assault you, did he? Do I need to notify Sheriff Osborn? Can you identify your assailant?”

“Yes, he is my nearest neighbor, who stopped by to voice his displeasure with my exotic animals. No need to call the sheriff.”

“He didn’t like your animals?” Teresa harrumphed as she walked around her desk to grab her cup of coffee. “I hope you let him have it—in spades.”

“We pretty much let each other have it—in spades,” Jessica reported, then took another bite of the delicious roll. “The cowboy with the attitude claimed my exotics were disturbing his livestock and he demanded that I pay him for the time and money required to round up his cattle and repair his fences.”

“Who is this character?” Teresa questioned curiously.

“Devlin Callahan.”

“Never heard of him, but then, I’ve only been in town a few months. The man obviously isn’t one of your clients, otherwise I’d recognize his name from your files.”

That much was true, Jessica mused as she polished off the cinnamon roll, then reached for another. Teresa made it a point to familiarize herself with every client on file. Devlin Callahan was not, and never would be, on file. Jessica would refuse to handle Rocking C Ranch accounts, even if Devil Devlin asked her nicely—and she seriously doubted he was capable of that. The less she had to deal with Callahan the better she’d like it.

“Oh, look! There’s that nice Sheriff Osborn now,” Teresa said. She pointed a red-tipped finger toward the window. “He’s in the parking lot at Good Grub Diner. Want me to hustle over there and register a complaint for you? I wouldn’t mind a bit, you know.”

Jessica pivoted, her mouth wrapped around the scrumptious cinnamon roll, then choked for breath. Devlin Callahan stepped from his four-wheel-drive, fire-engine-red pickup truck and approached the sheriff. No doubt that black-eyed monster was following up her suggestion of taking complaints to the sheriff. Jessica couldn’t say she was surprised to see Callahan bending the sheriff’s ear. He certainly had bent hers during their shouting match last night, and she had let that arrogant cowboy have it with both barrels blazing.

Unwillingly, Jessica’s assessing gaze drifted over Devlin’s striking profile. The man was just too darn good-looking, she mused. If life was fair and just, Devlin’s appearance would be as offensive as his personality. Jessica couldn’t say exactly why she had reacted so unfavorably to Callahan at first glance. There was something about him that brought her feminine defenses to code-red alert. She supposed she found herself unwillingly attracted to the big galoot and went to extremes to offend and repel him.

Okay, so maybe she had gone overboard in an attempt to prove to him, and to herself, that she didn’t like the looks of him. After her fiasco with Rex the ex she resolved never to be taken in by a handsome face and magnificent male body. Rex, as it turned out, had all the emotional depth of a bar of soap. She suspected Devlin was the shining example of same-song-second-verse.

It didn’t help the situation one iota when she suffered a knee-jerk reaction to Devlin’s explosive temper. He irritated her, so naturally, she made a supreme effort to return the favor.

“Wow, who is that guy talking to the sheriff?” Teresa asked, her nose pressed to the windowpane. “He looks like a movie star or something. Is he handsome or what, boss?”

“That’s Callahan,” Jessica reported. “Don’t be fooled by his good looks. He can be a fire-breathing dragon when the mood strikes. He’s probably tattling to the sheriff as we speak, trying to convince Osborn to pressure me into relocating my exotic animals, because God-Almighty Callahan doesn’t want me infringing on his cattle kingdom.”

DEVLIN WAS INDEED airing his grievances to Sheriff Osborn at that very moment—for all the good it did him, just as Jessica prophesied.

“I realize you’re tired and cranky, since you were up before five this morning chasing down your scattered cattle,” Sheriff Reed Osborn commiserated. “But Miss Porter’s land is zoned for a refuge and she has a license issued by the National Coordinator of the Association of Sanctuaries. The association deals with about twenty accredited sanctuaries nationwide. Porter’s sanctuary is very reputable, and the association placed two large cats in her care a couple of months ago.”

“Two jungle cats?” Devlin hooted. “As in lions and tigers? No wonder my livestock bolts and runs! Criminey, Reed, I have wheat to plant for forage. Derrick and I need to service our tractors and machinery, not spend valuable time thundering across pastures and through ditches in an attempt to retrieve runaway cattle and sheep. This has got to stop! I’m getting no rest whatsoever, and repair bills for new barbed wire and steel fence posts are mounting up.”

Reed shrugged and sighed. “I hear ya, Dev, don’t think I don’t. But there really isn’t much I can do about the situation. None of the exotics have escaped to terrorize the countryside or put humans or livestock at direct risk. Why don’t you move your cattle to another pasture and put more distance between them and the exotics?”

“You expect me to sacrifice eighty acres of much-needed summer grass when I have hungry cattle? Sure, I can change the pasture rotation next year, but if I move those cattle to another pasture that has been grubbed to the ground because of the drought, Derrick and I will have to pay the extra expense of feeding cattle cubes. And another thing,” Dev added hastily, “that woman dammed up the stream when she built her pond at the first of the summer. Her exotics are frolicking in the pond while my livestock are going thirsty. I’ve been transporting water to them for over a month. Porter shouldn’t be allowed to block the water supply like that.”

Reed Osborn nodded his sandy blond head. “You’ve got her there, Dev. I don’t think the Association of Sanctuaries would support her on that one. Want me to talk to her about reopening the water flow to your pasture?”

“Nothing would make me happier,” Devlin replied in supreme satisfaction. “I’d rather not talk to that woman again if I don’t have to. I swear she’s placed some kind of curse on me. We haven’t had many decent rains since she moved in six months ago and dammed up the creek. The pasture grass is fizzling out, and fence repairs are cutting into profit. When she moved in things started going wrong.”

Reed chuckled in amusement. “You’re holding her personally responsible for this two-month drought and record-setting heat wave?”

“Wouldn’t surprise me a bit if she had something to do with it,” Devlin said, then snorted. “I’d call her a witch, but she would probably sue me for slander, then take over the Rocking C and turn the whole blessed ranch into a sanctuary for killer cats, mauling bears and only God knows what else.”

“Jessica Porter a witch?” Reed’s eyebrows shot up like exclamation marks. “Are we talking about the same sweet, charming woman? The Jessica I know is a model citizen. You wouldn’t believe all the charities and organizations she’s donated money to since her arrival. She contributes to anything that benefits youth groups and underprivileged children in our community.”

Devlin blinked, stunned by the glowing accolades heaped on the dragon lady. “Sweet and charming?” His arm shot out to indicate the building across the street from Good Grub Diner. “Are we talking about the Jessica Porter whose office is right over there? The woman who has the sharpest tongue in the county, even though she’s built like Miss September?”

Reed burst out laughing at the shocked expression on Devlin’s face. “Yup, that’s her. She also hired a woman who was on the run from an abusive ex-husband. Jessica marched herself over to my office to request a restraining order, in case the jerk showed up to terrorize Teresa. You should see the positive changes Teresa has undergone since Jessica took her under her wing.”

“Yeah? Turned the poor woman into a witch?” Devlin asked sarcastically.

“Hell, no!” Reed countered. “I tell you the woman is a saint. Why, Jessica even went so far as to pay Teresa’s deposit and first month’s rent, outfit her with stylish clothes and buy some secondhand furniture at the sheriff’s sale to furnish the apartment.”

Devlin blinked like a traffic caution light. Reed thought the dragon lady was a saint? Maybe it was Devlin who brought out the worst in Miss Model Citizen of the Year. From all indications, Porter only had a problem getting along with her nearest neighbor—him.

“I suggest you and the rest of the Jessica Porter fan club camp out at Rocking C and see how you like it,” Devlin grumbled. “After one night of listening to the zoo orchestra serenade you and rounding up frightened cattle, I guarantee that you’ll change your tune. That woman and her zoo are a nuisance that is testing the limits of my temper.”

“I’ll talk to Jessica about unleashing the water, but I’m telling you flat-out, Dev, you and Jess are going to have to come to some kind of reconciliation and understanding. That’s an order.” He stared meaningfully at Devlin. “I’ve got enough situations to resolve around here without dealing with feuding neighbors. Use a little of that Callahan charm instead of that short-fused temper.”

Devlin gnashed his teeth until he practically wore off the enamel. This was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that he had been instructed to rely on his charm—what there was left of it after his embarrassing heartbreak seven years earlier. He wasn’t sure he had ever possessed enough charm and patience to deal with the dragon lady.

“I mean it, Dev.” The sheriff put on his cop face and stared at Devlin. “You be especially nice to that woman, hear me? She’s done lots of good deeds here in Buzzard’s Grove. Everybody around here respects her. It wouldn’t be good for her professional reputation, or yours, if you both decided to square off at twenty paces for a showdown. I’d have to toss you both in the slammer for disturbing the peace—”

“What about the fact that her zoo is disturbing my peace?” Devlin broke in indignantly.

“Oh, for Pete’s sake, Dev, we’ve had sightings of bobcats and mountain lions over the years. We have packs of coyotes running around all over the place. Jessica’s animals are penned up and cause less threat. What are you gonna do? Try to sue the Association of Sanctuaries? Of course not. It’d be a waste of time. Now make an effort to mend your fences.”

“I’ve done enough of that already,” Devlin said sourly.

“That was a figure of speech,” the sheriff remarked, then flashed a smile. “Just because you got your heart broke a few years back doesn’t mean you should take out your frustration on every woman you encounter, especially not Miss Porter.”

Exasperated, Devlin threw up his hands. “Is my personal life front-page news around here? Hell, it’s like living in a fishbowl!”

Reed Osborn shrugged nonchalantly. “Typical small town stuff. Besides, you and your brother have always been the subject of gossip. You’re good-looking, successful and eligible. Deal with it, Callahan. I wish I had your problems.”

Devlin spun toward his truck. “Just talk to Porter about her blasted pond,” he ordered.

“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.