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right smack on the lips in a beer joint. That’s supposed to go on in the backseat of a car in the church parkin’ lot after a prayer meetin’. Load up Granny Green’s old blunderbuss over the fireplace and I’ll avenge my honor. I’ll gut shoot him and he can die a long and painful death. Teach him to go around kissing women on New Year’s that he don’t know,” Cathy whispered.
    Jezzy giggled. “Take him outside first. I don’t want blood on my new carpet.”
    “Give me ten minutes and you and Sally bring the shovels. We’ll bury him down by the pond,” Cathy said.
    Sally threw up her hands. “Don’t bring me into this. I’m not digging in the cold, hard dirt. I’d break a fingernail. I’ll talk to the cops and give you an alibi, but I’m not touching a shovel.”
    Cathy smiled. “There’s nothing to worry about. He’s not my type. I like bad boys and he’s too pretty to be a bad boy. He’s not much good for anything other than oil wells.”
    Jezzy began stacking ham slices on an oversized platter. “Maybe he’s good in bed. Ever think of that? With all those muscles to wrap your legs around and those blond curls to hang onto, I bet that cowboy would give you a damn fine ride.”
    “Remember that old song that said not to call him a cowboy ’til you’ve seen him ride?” Cathy asked.
    “You gonna see if he’s a cowboy when he shucks out of them boots and that belt buckle? Did you notice that it had a bull rider on it?” Jezzy asked.
    “Hell, no! And you shouldn’t be looking at that area of his anatomy either.” Cathy blushed.
    “Why not? If he’s wearing a big silver buckle with a bull rider on it, then it’s beggin’ to be looked at and a woman’s eyes can’t help but fall a few inches further down to check things out. You’re not that innocent, Cathy,” Sally said.
    “Honey, I was the inspiration for Gretchen Wilson’s ‘Redneck Woman’ and I’ll look at any belt buckle I want to,” Cathy declared.
    Leroy called from the living room, “Dinner about ready in here?”
    “Herd ’em in,” Jezzy said. “I’m puttin’ the peas in the bowl now.”
    Jezzy sat at the head of the table with Leroy to her right. Angel sat to her right and Sally next to her with Merle at the other end. Cathy sat to her right with Travis beside her. It wasn’t the best-case scenario, but it wasn’t too bad. If she’d been on the other side of the table then she would have had to look straight into his crystal clear blue eyes. Just knowing he was sitting beside her almost gave her an acute case of hives. If someone had told her a week ago that she’d be having dinner with someone who took her breath away on New Year’s, she would have sent for a straightjacket and had the person committed.
    Cathy’s hands shook when she picked up the tea pitcher, filled her glass, and passed it on to Travis. His big hand closed over hers in the transfer and she clamped her jaw shut to keep from gasping at the scarlet blush rising up on her neck. Any minute now she’d be blushing like a prepubescent teenager with a crush on the next big name in Hollywood.
    “Is this sweet tea?” he asked.
    “You diabetic? Only thing we drink in Texas is sweet tea. And besides, Sally made banana nut cake.”
    “No, I’m not diabetic. I drink sweet tea. Hate that stuff they sell in stores that takes two cups of sugar that never dissolves. Glad you told me about the cake. I’ll have to save room,” he said.
    Angel groaned. “Travis?”
    “Get ready for it, Angel. I’m going to embarrass you. You been tellin’ everyone I ain’t housebroke. Well, if you’re goin’ to give me the name, then by damn, I’ll have the game. This reminds me of home and I’m not going to be bashful,” Travis said.
    Leroy handed him the platter of cornbread. “Man works all day in the hot sun or the freezing cold, he ought to be able to enjoy his vittles without worrying about etiquette. You want seconds or thirds you better eat fast,