Free Trouble in Texas by Katie Lane

was hot. Which meant that Minnie waswrong. No uptight virgin would heat up as quickly as that woman did. Every time he
     touched her, she was wet and ready. It was like she walked around in a constant state
     of arousal. Just the thought had his dick coming to life. Not wanting to embarrass
     himself in front of his little brother, he tried to get his mind back to their conversation.
    “So I take it Billy didn’t come to his senses and call off the wedding,” he said as
     he unzipped the suitcase.
    Beau shook his head. “He loves Shirlene, Brant. And when you meet her, you’re going
     to love her, too. She’s Billy, but in a woman’s body.”
    “Last time I checked,” Brant said as he took out a pair of jeans, “Billy wasn’t a
     gold digger.”
    In a flash, Beau jumped up from the bed with his fists clenched. “Shirlene’s not a
     gold digger. She’s a sweet gal that we had no business kicking out of her house.”
    It wasn’t surprising that Beau stood up for Shirlene. Ever since he’d been a kid,
     he’d had a thing for helpless girls—or what he viewed as helpless girls. From what
     Brant knew about Shirlene Dalton, she was about as helpless as a barracuda. But for
     some reason, she made Billy happier than he’d been in years, and his family’s happiness
     was all that mattered to Brant.
    “So Brianne didn’t show up at the wedding either?” He pulled a shirt out of his suitcase,
     annoyed by the wrinkles that creased the sleeves and waist.
    “No,” Beau said and flopped back down on the bed. “Brianne might be getting a 4.0
     in college, but she’s dumber than a box of rocks if she thinks Mama will forgive and
     forget. Mama’s almost as good as you are at settling scores.” He glanced back at Brant.
     “Please tell me you’re not planning on kicking that group of harmless oldwomen out on the streets just because our granddaddy was supposedly killed here. I
     would’ve thought that you learned your lesson after trying to ruin the town of Bramble.”
    An hour ago, Brant would’ve delighted in tossing the old broads out on their behinds.
     But his temper had cooled since then. At least, toward the old hens. The new one was
     a different matter.
    “The only lesson I learned was ‘check your facts more thoroughly,’ ” he said. He pulled
     on a pair of boxer briefs. “And the only proof we have that our grandfather was shot
     here at Miss Hattie’s is the word of Moses Tate, a man you said yourself is as ancient
     as the hills and spends most of his time sleeping on the bench in front of the Bramble
     pharmacy. Moses probably has trouble remembering his name, let alone a story he heard
     from his grandfather years ago.”
    “You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d met the man,” Beau said as he leaned over the
     opened nightstand drawer. “He’s more alert than half the people in town.” He lifted
     a long, phallic-shaped object from the drawer and squinted at it. “But even if Moses
     Tate got his facts wrong, and our grandfather really was killed in Bramble, it’s not
     going to change anything. You can’t get revenge by closing down Dalton Oil, Brant,
     not when Bramble is Billy’s new home.”
    Beau had a point. With Billy and his new family living there, closing Dalton Oil was
     out of the question. It was a hard pill to swallow. In the last year, revenge on Bramble
     had consumed Brant’s thoughts. Now all he had were the nightmares and bizarre dreams
     of Miss Hattie.
    “So if you feel that way, why did you come all the way out here?” Brant asked.
    Beau tossed the antique dildo back in the drawer and grinned brightly. “Because I’d
     never been to a whorehouse before and I wanted to see one before I die.”
    Brant might’ve laughed if Beau hadn’t just finished up chemotherapy. There was nothing
     funny about his little brother dying.
    “What did the doc say at your last visit?” he asked as he walked over to one of the
     chairs in front of the fireplace and