A Cowboy Christmas Miracle (Burnt Boot, Texas Book 4) by Carolyn Brown Read Free Book Online Page A

had never been in Betsy’s vocabulary, but it was that Sunday afternoon. A thousand what-ifs played through her mind. As if Declan could read her thoughts, he said, “We’ll only bring my truck on Thursday nights. Your pink one would stand out like a neon light above a…café.”
    She held back the giggle. From the blush, it was pretty evident that he’d quickly substituted café for something else, and she’d bet dollars to cow patties that it was whorehouse . Betsy had no idea a cowboy as broad shouldered and hot as Declan Brennan could blush, and it gave her satisfaction to know that she wasn’t the only one who’d had impure thoughts in church.
    “I only have one spare key to the back door. Which one of you wants to be responsible for it?” Kyle asked.
    “Give it to Betsy. She wanted this program more than me anyway.” Declan glanced down the pew at Betsy. “You be responsible for the key. I’ll get us here on Thursday night to bring in the stuff.”
    “Sounds good to me,” Kyle said as he stood, stretched, and rolled his neck. “I’ll take care of that now. Like I said, y’all let me know if I can help any other way.”
    “We will, and thanks. What we tell you, it’s like confessional, isn’t it? It is confidential?” Betsy chewed at her lower lip.
    “As solid as attorney-client privilege or, like you said, confessional.” Kyle waved as he disappeared behind his office door.
    “So we’re really going to do this?” Declan drawled.
    “Looks like we are. You afraid?”
    He shook his head. “Not me. You?”
    “Not me. I live for danger. I’m a Gallagher.”
    “You saying that Brennans are sissies?”
    “If the shoe fits,” she answered.
    “It doesn’t, and I’ll make a thousand-dollar bet with you that I can bring in more stuff than you can and keep the secret about why I want it. I can sweet-talk these old ladies into anything I want,” Declan bragged.
    She sat cross-legged on the pew. “You think I can’t sweet-talk the old guys into making a manger and a framework for a nativity scene and donating bales of hay?”
    “Bet or not?” Declan asked.
    “Gambling in the church. What would Preacher Kyle say about that?”
    “I thought you lived for danger,” Declan said.
    * * *
    Dammit!
    Betsy’s green eyes flashed both anger and excitement, and if she’d been any other woman in the whole state of Texas, Declan would have started his mission right then and there to get her into bed. But not a Gallagher! No way was he getting tangled up with Betsy. Declan liked his house, his job, and his place on the ranch too well to screw it up.
    Betsy unwound her shapely legs, which were encased in tight denim, and slid down closer to him. With green eyes flashing, she shoved out a hand. “It’s a bet. Do we judge by the number or the value of the items?”
    “It would be hard to judge by the value, since we’d argue until the devil turned blue from cold about that, so we’ll go by the number of items.” He wrapped his big hand around her small one and shook it firmly. The shock of her touch was unlike anything he’d ever experienced. Chalking it up to the risks they were both taking, he dropped her hand. The tingling sensation was still there when Kyle returned and gave her the key.
    Declan was glad that he’d made the offer for her to be in charge of the thing because right then, his hand was so hot that it would have turned the thing into liquid metal.
    “Okay, you two. Let’s see if you can bring in what we need for a proper program. When I take stock of it all on the Sunday before Christmas, I’ll decide if we have enough. If not, it will be a start for next year,” he said.
    “I’ll see to it that we have enough,” Betsy said.
    “I understand there is a tree lighting at the store and the bar this next weekend,” Kyle said. “So those will be celebrations.”
    “It’s usually a war,” Declan said. “The Gallaghers do something to destroy or mess up our party, so then