Free Trouble in Texas by Katie Lane Page B

had clicked her way out of the room, Beau relaxed back in the chair and blew
     out a puff of smoke. “This is the life. The gals might be old, but they sure understand
     what men like.” He took a sip of the brandy and closed his eyes in ecstasy.
    “You might feel differently when you wake up handcuffed to a bed,” Brant said as he
     sat back and savored his own cigar.
    Beau cracked open one eye. “I noticed those. Don’t tell me the old hens took advantage
     of you.”
    “Not the old hens, but the young one.”
    Beau’s eyes popped open. “Ms. Murphy? Are you kidding me? I thought Minnie was joking.”
    “Not in the least.” It was hard to keep the anger from his voice. “What do you know
     about her?”
    Beau laughed. “A lot less than you seem to know.” Brant sent him a hard stare, but
     his little brother only grinned wider. “Not much. She’s the librarian in Bramble who
     helped Billy with research. The first time I’ve ever talked with her was last night
     at the wedding after she caught the bouquet Shirlene tossed.”
    The thought of the woman going to a wedding and celebrating while he was chained to
     a bed had Brant almost snapping the cigar in half.
    “She sure doesn’t seem like the type to force herself on a man.” Beau continued. “But
     I guess it makes sense with her being the owner of Miss Hattie’s and all.” He shook
     his head. “What a great disguise. She’s the last person I would think of as a madam.”
    The word “madam” bothered Brant more than he cared to admit. Or maybe what bothered
     him the most was the image of other men getting what he’d sampled but couldn’t remember.
    “Of course, it’s not like she’s a real madam,” Beau continued. “Miss Hattie’s isn’t
     a working whorehouse.” He puffed out a stream of smoke and glanced over at Brant.
     “Right?”
    Before spending the night handcuffed to a bed, Brant might’ve agreed. Now he wasn’t
     so sure.
    “Good morning.”
    The airy voice had them both turning to the door where Sunshine stood holding a plate
     of chocolate chip cookies. Homemade chocolate chip cookies that Brant could smell
     clear across the room.
    Beau put his drink down on the table and rubbed his hands together. “This place just
     keeps getting better and better.” He collected a handful of cookies from the plate
     before Sunshine offered them to Brant. The image of her without her shirt flashed
     through Brant’s mind, and he shook his head.
    “No, thank you,” he said. “But I do have a question. Just how did Ms. Murphy get ownership
     of Miss Hattie’s?”
    Without the slightest hesitation, Sunshine answered. “Minnie had the lawyer give it
     to her.”
    It wasn’t hard to figure out how a lawyer had played into it. “So she inherited the
     house?”
    Sunshine nodded.
    “But inherited it from whom?” Beau directed the question at Brant. “Kenny Gene told
     me that her mother was a retired schoolteacher in Amarillo.”
    “Oh, but she didn’t inherit it from her mama,” Sunshine said. “She inherited it from
     the hen.”
    Beau and Brant exchanged glances before looking back at Sunshine.
    “The hen?” they both said simultaneously.
    “The head hen.” Sunshine beamed. “Elizabeth is the great-great-granddaughter of Miss
     Hattie Ladue.”

Chapter Eight
    Henhouse Rule #26: Seduction is a weapon. Wield it carefully.
    “I JUST CAN’T BELIEVE that you would do something like that, Elizabeth.”
    Elizabeth adjusted the cell phone to her ear and continued to alphabetize the books
     in Miss Hattie’s library.
    “It’s not the end of the world, Mother. It’s only a bouquet,” she said as she moved
     John Steinbeck to the “S” shelf behind Shakespeare and Shelley. “How did you find
     out about it, anyway?”
    “I have my sources,” her mother huffed, and Elizabeth figured she was doing her morning
     calisthenics, which included exactly twenty-two minutes of jogging in place, followed
     by three sets of