The Trouble with Texas Cowboys by Carolyn Brown

day with that shot and the promise of spending time with the gorgeous Jill Cleary tomorrow night.”
    â€œBe sure to get her home before midnight. She turns into a rabid coyote when the clock strikes twelve.” Sawyer moved on down the bar to fill a pitcher with beer.
    â€œThat true, darlin’?” Tyrell asked.
    â€œGot to take the bad with the good,” Jill answered.
    * * *
    The jukebox played its last song a few minutes before eleven. The grill was cooling. Beer and margarita pitchers were in the dishwasher.
    â€œI’ll sweep if you’ll wipe down the tables, and then we’ll be done,” Sawyer said.
    Jill picked up the spray bottle filled with cleaner, and a couple of bar rags, and went to work. Sawyer grabbed a broom.
    He’d known her for twenty-four hours. They’d started off arguing, but had quickly worked things out until they were like old friends now. He leaned on the broom handle and stared at her, careful to go back to his job when she straightened up to go on to the next table.
    She turned the chairs upside down on the table after she’d wiped them all down, so he could have easy access for sweeping. “Better hurry up and stop taking breaks if you want to get me home by midnight, so I don’t turn into a rabid coyote.”
    â€œI was trying to help you out there, woman.”
    â€œI know that. I wish we could both go back to yesterday and undo tomorrow. I dread it.”
    â€œThen be a rabid coyote so neither one of them will like you,” he said.
    â€œMight be an idea. If you work faster, you’ll get home to that apple pie quicker. It’s cool by now, and there’s ice cream in the freezer to go with it.” She straightened up and rolled her neck to get the kinks out.
    He made a big show of sweeping faster. “Work, good woman. Work fast and hard. I’d forgotten that pie and chocolate cake await us at home. You might have to bake something more on Monday morning.”
    She flipped two of the three chairs upside down on the last table and sank into one of the remaining ones with a long sigh. “I can’t wait until Monday gets here, because then all this Sunday shit will be done with. Hell, I can’t even remember their names most of the time. What if I call a Brennan by a Gallagher’s name, or vice versa?”
    â€œSay the name three times and picture an animal to go with the name, so you don’t call him by the wrong feuding family name. Quaid looks like big old Angus steer to me, so picture a bull. Now the other one, Tyrell, is a wolf for sure, so picture him as that, and you’ll never forget his name.” Sawyer leaned the broom against the jukebox, sat down in the remaining chair, and propped his feet on the table.
    â€œQuaid the bullshit cowboy. Tyrell the hungry wolf cowboy. You’re getting my table all dirty,” she said.
    â€œI’ll wash it. My feet are tired. At least you are getting red roses. I’m not taking roses or any other kind of flower to Betsy or to Kinsey. Maybe they’ll take that as a slight and leave me alone.”
    She tucked a few strands of flaming red hair behind her ear. “I don’t even like roses. I said that so he wouldn’t know my favorite flower and bring them. I have a problem relating flowers to people or events, and I damn sure don’t want my favorite ones ruined by a one-date cowboy.”
    â€œAnd the favorite ones are?” Sawyer asked.
    â€œDaisies. They outlast roses, and they’re tough little flowers. If you tell him…”
    Sawyer held up a palm defensively. “I understand. Say no more. Want my advice?”
    â€œHell, no! But I expect you are going to give it to me anyway.”
    â€œMaybe you’ve gotten off on the wrong foot with them, like I did,” he said. “It could be that one or both of them are really decent cowboys. Go with an open mind. Don’t think about their last name or