Texas Heat by Bárbara McCauley

man’s eyes, and Savannah felt her own eyes burn as she watched Emma nod enthusiastically. The child had asked questions about her daddy since she’d been three, but Angela had always said, “When you’re older, sweetie.” Well, now she was older, and she had no mother or father.
    Digger laid a gentle hand on the child’s shoulder, then stood and looked solemnly at Jake. “You take care of her, Jake. J.T. would have wanted that.”
    Jake nodded. “I intend to.”
    What did he mean by that? Savannah wondered. No one was taking care of Emma but her. She’d made that crystal clear. But then, some people were thickheaded, she thought, looking at Jake.
    The waitress was looking at Jake, too, Savannah noted, and the look said she’d like to serve him more than coffee. Had Jake and she dated? Had he kissed this waitress the same way he’d kissed her? She’d lain in bed for the past three nights thinking about that damn kiss and the way she’d reacted to him. And no matter how much she denied it, no matter how much it embarrassed and infuriated her, she wanted him to kiss her again.
    Digger refused Jake’s money when he attempted to pay for the lunch and told him he’d win it off him the next poker game, anyway, so it didn’t much matter. After a few more exchanged digs at each other, Jake drove them all to the feed store.
    Savannah and Emma deliberated the purchase of a bell for Betsy while Jake ordered supplies. Emma insisted on a careful testing of every bell, and Savannah winced as her niece rang each one several times.
    â€œI’d take that one,” a deep voice said.
    Savannah turned abruptly. A dark-haired man stood at the end of the aisle, his thumbs looped lazily in the waistband of his jeans. He grinned at Emma, then nodded to Savannah. “I had a teacher in the fifth grade that used to call us to class with a bell like that.”
    â€œI’m going to be in the fifth grade.” Emma took hold of Savannah’s hand. “And my aunt Savannah is a teacher.”
    â€œReally?” The man’s dark brown eyes flashed to Savannah. “And is this your aunt Savannah?”
    Savannah shifted uncomfortably as the man’s gaze slid over her. He was handsome, she noticed, but his looks were more reminiscent of a corporate executive than a rancher. He moved toward them, his hand extended. “Sam McCants. I own the Circle B just west of here.”
    â€œSavannah Roberts.” His hand was smoother than Jake’s, Savannah noted as she placed her fingers in his palm. He wasn’t as tall, either, but he was still over six feet. He held her hand a little longer than she would have liked. “And this is Emma.”
    â€œWhat’s going on, Sam?” Jake asked flatly as he walked up beside them. His gaze dropped to Sam’s hand on Savannah’s, and she could have sworn she saw his jaw tighten. Sam let go, but the two men did not shake hands.
    â€œWhere you been keeping yourself, Jake?”
    The way everyone was acting, Savannah was beginning to wonder if Jake had been hibernating for ten years.
    â€œI’ve been around,” he replied matter-of-factly.
    Sam looked at Savannah and Emma. “These two ladies with you?”
    â€œThat’s right.”
    â€œYou always did get the pretty ones.” Sam winked at Emma, then smiled at Savannah. Jake stiffened.
    â€œWe’re just visiting,” Savannah explained when Jake seemed reluctant to do so.
    â€œJake’s my brother,” Emma announced proudly.
    Sam’s brow raised. “Your brother?”
    â€œThat’s right.” Jake met the other man’s curious stare, but gave no further explanation.
    Why was Jake being so brusque? Savannah wondered. She didn’t have a sense that he truly disliked Sam. He just didn’t seem to want to talk to him.
    â€œI’ve herded your steers out of my southwest section twice in the past