The Maverick - By Jan Hudson Page 0,13
her hand toward the coolers.
Cole plunged a big hand into the ice and pulled out three cans, popped the tops and handed them out.
“Save some for me,” a man yelled, coming toward them.
J.J. retrieved another beer and tossed it toward the approaching man, who was dressed, like the others, in jeans and a T-shirt.
He was obviously an Outlaw brother. They all looked remarkably similar. Tall, dark-haired and handsome. And tough looking. Cole, the professor, was the toughest looking of the lot.
“Griff,” J.J. said, “this tall drink of water is our baby brother, Sam. He’s the Lone Ranger.”
“Texas Ranger to you, snot-face.” He stuck out his hand and grinned. “Good to meet you, Griff. That’s my wife, Skye, talking to Sunny and Cass.”
“Griff,” the professor said, “what line are you in?”
“I’m a lawyer.”
“From New York?”
“That’s right. But my mother was born in Dallas.”
J.J. grinned. “Well, looky there. You got some good blood going for you.”
“What kind of law do you practice?” Cole asked.
Feeling strongly like a teenager being grilled by his prom date’s father, Griff took a swig of his beer. “Corporate.”
“Did you and Cass know each other in New York?” J.J. asked.
“No, we met in Austin. We’re both runners.”
“I see,” Cole said, nodding. “What brought you to Austin?”
“Business,” Griff replied. “How about them Cowboys?”
J.J. hooted with laughter. “He gotcha good, big brother. How about them Cowboys?”
Cole frowned. “Was I making you uncomfortable, Griff? Sorry. To tell you the truth, I never cared much for the Cowboys. I was an Oilers man until they moved to Tennessee and changed their name. You a football fan?”
“More baseball than football.”
“Okay, guys,” Belle said. “Break it up. We’re not going to have any of that men-huddled-around-the-beer stuff. Mix and mingle. Who thinks they could beat me at a game of horseshoes before lunch?”
“Ding-a-ling,” Cole said, throwing an arm around her neck in a headlock. “I can whip you any day of the week.”
Saved by the bell, Griff thought, wandering off to find Cass. He met Skye and Flora, the artist, a slightly fey woman in a purple outfit who studied him intently. She cocked her head this way and that, then said, “Ah, you have an interesting aura. I’d like to talk with you more later.” She patted his cheek and sighed.
When Flora flitted away, Griff asked Cass, “What did she mean?”
Skye chuckled. “With Mother, one never knows. She sees things some of the rest of us don’t, and she’s always looking for subjects to paint. I have a lovely painting of Sam in armor and wearing his cowboy hat. She nailed him perfectly.”
Griff tried not to squirm. Cass’s family made him very uncomfortable. Everyone except Gabe. And maybe Belle and Nonie. Griff gravitated toward Gabe, and they discussed the real estate business in the area. He was obviously an astute businessman.
Their picnic lunch was laid out buffet style, and they sat at folding tables under the canopy instead of on blankets. Except for the children. They insisted on sitting among the flowers to eat.
When they finished eating, Wes Outlaw rose. He held his wineglass high. “I’d like to propose a toast to Belle and Gabe and to Skye and Sam on the occasion of their anniversary. May their lives always be as happy as Nonie’s and mine have been.”
“Hear! Hear!” Everyone raised their glasses.
“Anyone have any announcements to make?” Wes asked, looking around expectantly.
Sunny raised her hand. “Ben and I are getting married in early summer. You’ll all be invited.”
Everybody cheered and clapped, and J.J. whistled.
Skye raised her hand, and Sam looked at her strangely. “We’re expecting a little bundle at our house.”
Sam’s eyes bugged, and he almost fell off his chair. “We are?”
She laughed. “Our llama’s pregnant.”
Chapter Six
“Wasn’t that fun?” Cass asked on the drive home. “I do adore that bunch of people.”
“Nice folks,” Griff said.
Even though he smiled and said the right things, Cass got the sudden impression that poor Griff hadn’t had fun at all. He’d been charming to everyone the whole afternoon, but was it all an act? “I suppose the gang might be overwhelming all at once. What was I thinking to put you through such an ordeal? Will you forgive me?”
“There’s nothing to forgive. I enjoyed meeting your family. I don’t recall ever being around so many lawmen at one time—at least not since the cops raided a frat party when I was in college.”
“Don’t tell me you were intimidated.”
“By a forest of drawling Texas Rangers and country sheriffs? Not me, darlin’.”
Cass frowned. Did she hear a