Make Mine a Bad Boy by Katie Lane Page A

to the brim with dust-covered trucks and dinged-up American-made cars.
    “Oh, hell,” Hope grumbled under her breath, but it only took a second for her to recover and wave and smile like the true homecoming queen she was. “Hey, Kenny Gene! We was just talkin’ about yew.” She spread the Texas twang on thick as peanut butter. “You wouldn’t know where Colt’s motorcycle is, would yew?”
    “Shore do!” he yelled back.
    “And just where would that be, Kenny?” Colt asked.
    “Well, hey, Colt! I didn’t see you standin’ there.”
    It wasn’t surprising. Colt had always been invisible to the people of Bramble, especially when standing next to the town sweetheart.
    “So where is it?” Hope asked.
    “Where’s what?”
    Damn, Colt had forgotten how annoying the folks of Bramble could be.
    “So where is my motorcycle, Kenny?”
    “Oh, I can’t tell you that. Shirlene would have my hide.” His eyes narrowed. “Hey, ain’t you supposed to be in the town jail?”
    “I’m going to kill him,” Hope said through her teeth.
    “Only if you beat me to it.” Colt stepped off the curb with every intention of grabbing Kenny up by his stiff western shirt and shaking the information out of him. Unfortunately, before he could, the mayor came out of Josephine’s.
    “Hope, honey, what in the world are you doing, standin’ over there?” Harley waved his hand. “Come on over here and let me buy you some breakfast. At a time like this, we need to keep you well fed.”
    Confused, Colt looked over at Hope, but she didn’t even spare him a glance as the bright fake smile slid back in place.
    “Actually, Uncle Harley, Mama and Daddy are waitin’ breakfast. So I need to get.” As she backpedaled down the sidewalk, she spoke to Colt out of the side of her mouth. “Just keep walking, and when you get to the corner, run like hell.”
    Most people wouldn’t understand her crazy talk. But after growing up in the town, Colt understood perfectly. One Bramble citizen was easily dealt with—two, almost impossible. Unfortunately, before he could follow her instructions, a brand-new black Lincoln Navigator came barreling down the street and zipped into the parking lot. The dust hadn’t even settled before the door opened and a pair of bright turquoise stilettos slipped out.
    “Well, good mornin’, big brother.” Shirlene strutted across the street in a tight pair of jeans, a huge concho belt, and a white blouse unbuttoned low enough to show off the hundred pounds of silver and turquoise wrapped around her neck. “I see you made it out of jail all right.”
    “No thanks to you.” Colt crossed his arms and shot her an annoyed look.
    “Now, honey.” Shirlene batted those green eyes at him. “You aren’t mad at me for forcing you to keep your promise, are you?”
    He probably should be mad. The woman was too arrogant and controlling for her own good. But she had a point. He had promised to stay the night. And she was his baby sister, who he’d always had a soft spot for.
    “Besides,” she continued. “I knew you could get out anytime you wanted. In fact, what took you so long? I washoping we could watch—” Those green eyes flickered over his shoulder and widened, but only for a split second. “Well, now, what do we have here?”
    He glanced back to see Hope standing a few feet away, frozen in her spot. She looked all mussed and cute in her saggy pajama bottoms, her big eyes a little fearful at being caught by someone who knew how to put two and two together. For some reason, her fear prompted the need to rein in his sister.
    “Quit being a brat, Shirlene, and tell me where you stashed my motorcycle.”
    Her gaze flickered back to him. “A brat? All I’m trying to figure out is why the Sweetheart of Bramble is wandering around in her pajamas with an escaped convict.”
    Colt really wanted to give his sister a good sock in the arm for bringing Harley’s attention to the situation.
    “What are you doin’