The Texan's Christmas by Linda Warren Page B

Lucky.”
    “I’ll remember to tell your wife that.”
    “She doesn’t talk to women like you.”
    Lucky’s hands curled into fists. Stay calm. “Must be nice living in that righteous world. Does she know you’re in here?”
    “Hell, no. A man has to have some fun.” He leaned over and whispered, “You and I could have a lot of fun.”
    She turned on her heel and marched into the back room before she hit him. Suddenly she heard a familiar voice. It couldn’t be. She peeped around the corner. Kid was sitting next to Luther. Why couldn’t he just leave?
    “Hey, Kid,” Luther was saying. “Long time no see.”
    “Been sort of busy.”
    “Yeah, you Hardin boys are in the oil business.”
    “It’s a dirty job but someone has to do it.”
    Luther’s laugh was an obnoxious sound. “What are you doing in here? Getting reacquainted with Lucky?”
    “No. It’s hot and I wanted a beer.”
    “Yeah, right.” Luther snickered and then shouted, “Hey, Lucky, bring some beers to the back table for the guys and me.”
    “You’re going that way,” Kid butted in. “Why don’t you carry them yourself?”
    “Because that’s what she does—wait on men.”
    Kid turned on the stool. “I don’t like the way you said that.”
    “Who cares what you like, Hardin? Lucky’s a tramp and you ought to know that better than anyone.”
    That’s when Kid’s fist connected with Luther’s jaw and he went flying into another time zone—almost. He landed against the jukebox and an old Waylon Jennings song came on. “I’ve always been crazy…”
    How fitting could that be?
    The room became completely quiet and she motioned to Bubba Joe. Luther moaned and Bubba helped him to his feet as Luther’s friends gathered round.
    “Time to go,” Bubba Joe said.
    At the door, Luther turned back, rubbing his jaw. “This ain’t over, Hardin.”
    “I’m right here, Luther.”
    “Fun’s over,” Bubba Joe announced and everyone went back to their drinking.
    “What are you doing?” Lucky snarled at Kid.
    Kid twisted his fist and sat on the stool again. “Breaking my hand, I think.”
    “I want you to leave.”
    “I didn’t like what he said.”
    “So? You’re not my protector. Who do you think comes in here? A Bible study group? It’s men with loud mouths, dirty ideas and bad attitudes.”
    “Then why in the hell are you doing this?”
    She exhaled a hot breath. “I want you to leave—now.”
    “All right, I was wrong—once again and…”
    “Don’t you dare say you’re sorry because sorry doesn’t even start to cover the multitude of your sins.”
    He winced. “Can I have a beer, please?”
    “No.”
    He held up his hands in defeat. “I’ll leave if you’ll tell me what those guys were doing here last night.”
    “You’re not in a position to make deals. And it’s none of your business.”
    “Are you into something illegal?” he persisted.
    She stomped her foot, went into the storeroom and sat on several cases of beer. Bubba Joe stood in the doorway and she nodded.
    “Lucky.”
    “Do it.”
    She got up and listened near the doorjamb.
    “Kid, you have to go,” Bubba Joe said. “Lucky wants you out of here.”
    “Yeah, I got that impression.”
    “Just leave. I don’t want to fight with you.”
    “I think I’ll go put some ice on my hand and maybe my head. I seem to make all the wrong decisions. Look out for Lucky.”
    “I always do.”
    Lucky leaned against the wall and wondered how long she could keep this up. A part of her was happy that he’d taken up for her, the other part was angry. She knew what the people of High Cotton thought of her, but it cut deep to hear it said in front of Kid. Hating him got her through many days and seeing him after twentyyears was doing a number on her resolve to never let Kid get to her again.
    He would leave and her life would get back to normal. She prayed it would be soon.

CHAPTER SEVEN
    U NABLE TO STOP HIMSELF , Kid waited outside until closing. When