by BA Tortuga
“Christ.” Les glanced around. “Did you see who all is here?” He was rodeo enough to want to dance a jig at the names on the guest list.
“Yeah.” His sister grinned at him. “What’s cool is that she doesn’t. She’s only looking at you.”
“I know.” Les’ eye went right back to Rosie, who was sort of dangling from Dillon Walsh’s arm in a dip all of a sudden. “She’s got the most loyal friends. Makes me proud to know so many people think she’s a good’un, you know?”
Hester nodded, and they watched the dancing a while longer. Rosie’s laugh came more and more often, and she’d been making enough with her candy business to start a ‘having our baby’ fund. Practical, pretty, and all his. Then Hester Anne popped his arm again. “Go dance with her, brother.”
“Huh? Oh. Sure.” Les laughed when Hes crossed her eyes at him and stuck out her tongue, just like when they were kids. Then he hoisted himself up and went over, tapping Dillon Walsh’s shoulder. “I’m cutting in, sir.”
Dillon hemmed and hawed playfully, but the man deposited his wife right into his arms. Rosie smiled up at him. “Having a good day, Mister Les?”
“I am. Possibly the best ever. How are you holding up?” She looked amazing. Happy. So his. Did he mention she was his? Love filled him all up, his heart beating hard.
“I’m having a ball. Ready for our honeymoon, though.” She kissed him. “You, me, Mexico.”
They were going to one of them all-inclusive resort deals, swim-up bar and all. Rosie in a bikini and lotion and nothing else.
“Yeah? We could leave it all to Ace and the boss…” He was ready to slip out of the crowd.
“Our suitcases are in your truck, so’s my purse with the passports and tickets.” Jesus bless them both, she looked so pretty, smiling up at him.
“Well, come on.” They’d say goodbye to Hes and the family, and to Beau and Sam, because Beau had been good enough to sponsor her side of the wedding. Oh, and the boss, because he’d let them use the big lodge.
“Right beside you, love.”
Lord, Les did love a woman who knew her own mind, and was willing to just go for it. ’Course that had been what he’d loved about Rosie from the very beginning.
She’d known she was the one for him. Thank God for that.
Also available from Totally Bound Publishing:
Top of the Leader Board: Ace and Kitty
BA Tortuga
Excerpt
Chapter One
Not one of the cowboys who saw him as the face of a major bull riding league would believe it, but Ace Porter hated celebrity-filled network parties with the fiery burning heat of a thousand suns. He hated the glitter and the fake smiles and the fact that he was the only one not wearing a suit.
Of course, he hated the suits more. They didn’t go with his cowboy hat or scars.
He stuck one hand into the back pocket of his jeans, the other holding the beer he’d wheedled out of the bartender. It wasn’t Bud Light, but it would do. The entire fucking room was filled with fake shit.
Fake smiles. Fake boobies. Fake hair.
Hell, there were probably fake backsides, built just for kissing.
That idea made him smile, which was a decent thing, because that meant he wasn’t scowling when she came into view. Hoo yeah.
Blonde and lean, without a bit of fake anything showing, the lady moved as if those heels were the most natural things ever. Her hair was piled high, caught with a sparkly deal that caught the light, just like the jewels at her throat and ears. Damn, she was like a firefly or something—all shine and twinkle. Her dress was simple, dark and classy, showing leg, not too much chest, and he took a step closer.
Their gazes met, hooked on each other across the room, and she smiled back at him, eyes actually crinkling at the corners a little.
Crinkling.
Damn.
He hadn’t seen a woman in this town whose face could still move. Ace straightened up, figuring he’d make his way over, see if she wanted to have a drink. Maybe compare wrinkles.
Or even better, compare scars.
Bright blue eyes looked him up and down, giving him as much of a once-over as he’d given her. Whatever she saw in him must have worked, because Ace got another of those approving smiles, then she raised her wineglass—filled with white—and nodded, right before a suit came up, took her elbow, and she rolled her eyes.
Damn. He circled like a shark, trying to be less than obvious. He figured for him he did okay. It was hard not to stand out in Wranglers and a Stetson. She was a stand-out, too, the black slip of a dress clinging where it ought to, and her sheer stockings had a line down the back, just the barest bit off-center. How erotic was that?
There was nothing plastic about her, and Ace shifted from foot to foot, getting a little growly at the guy who monopolized her time.
Those pretty eyes kept returning to him, over and over, and once he could swear he saw her mouth make the words, “Save me.”
Well, now. He was a cowboy, right? He couldn’t deny a damsel in distress. Ace wandered on over, stepping neatly between the man and his prey. “Hey, there. Oh, sorry, man. You mind if I steal the lady for a moment? We were talking earlier and we got interrupted. Didn’t want to miss the rest of that story.”
Before the stuffed suit could reply, Ace had taken the lady’s arm and swept her right off past a group of ladies who might have been from Dallas, the way their hair was jacked to Jesus. One of them caught the suit’s arm when he tried to pursue. Boom. Day saved.
“Oh, you’re very good.” Her laugh was warm, not tittery or anything, just as right as rain. “Thank you. I was getting incredibly frustrated.”
“You looked like it.” He’d been pretty frustrated, too. “Ace.”
“Kitty.” Her hand was slender, long and warm, nails normal, not like claws or studded with diamonds or nothing. “Can I buy you another beer?”
“You can. You have to threaten someone to get it, though.” He’d been there. If it was martinis or white wine, you were safe, but God forbid you ask for a cold brew.
“Not if we find another bar.”
Well, hello there. Wasn’t that refreshing candor, and initiative, as well? Ace approved.
“You as bored as I am?” He took her glass and put it on the tray of a passing waiter along with his beer bottle. “I know a great hole in the wall with a mechanical bull.”
“Honestly?” Her eyes lit up like jewels and shit—he’d always thought that image was some made up deal, but hers were amazing. Genuinely. “I’m so in.”
“Come on, then. You got a coat?”
It wasn’t cold or nothin’, but some of the LA types liked to have a fancy cover-up, and you had to stand and wait for an hour while the coat check feller hunted it down.
“I don’t.” Kitty grinned, winked. “I have everything a girl needs right here.” She patted the shiny leather purse on her shoulder.
“Well, come on, then, before someone else stops us.” He grinned too, feeling like a young cowboy at his first big show—part excited, part nervous. Mostly tickled as a pig in shit.
“Do you have a car here?” She headed for the elevator, pressing the ‘down’ button.
“I do. You need to move yours or anything?” He stood close enough to smell her light, citrus-flavored perfume, but not close enough to be stalkery.
“Nope. I’m cabbing it. I’m not a local.”
“Me either. Had to be out this way for an event anyway, though.” More than one of the other league officials had accused him of being a control freak, not letting a show go on without his approval.
“How did I guess that you weren’t from here?” She smiled, the words teasing, but not holding a hint of bitch in them.
“Oh, I don’t know. Must be psychic.” He winked. His Texas was hard to miss, from his accent to his boots, which were actually worn in.
She let her eyes go wide. “You know my secret! Everyone else here believes that you’re a surfer from
Venice Beach.”
He laughed out loud, glad they were in the elevator because it would have drawn stares. “There you go. And you’re a hick from Oklahoma who can’t drive in cities to save you…”
“Absolutely. Possibly Arkansas. You never know.”
He gave her face a careful once-over. “Nah. Too many teeth.”
He put a hand on the small of her back to guide her toward the parking garage. He didn’t quite trust them valets. The flashing lights and screaming from the paparazzi wasn’t down here, either. Just a security guard. A great big one. A great big giant one that stood and loomed.
“Mr. Porter. Miss Carpenter. Is everything okay?” the guard asked.
Kitty flashed the man a smile. “Just fine. We’re heading out.”
“Have a good evening, ma’am.”
Ace waited until they got into the truck. “LA security is always sort of robotic.”
“They only hire Teamsters in the city.”
Huh. New York. She didn’t sound like New York. She didn’t act like New York.
“So, where are you from originally?” Ace liked that she had that newscaster voice, really. Smooth and accentless.
“Missouri, right outside of Kansas City. You’re from Texas, yes?”
“I am. I have a place down by Weatherford now, but I’m from West Texas.” Small town, deep West Texas.
“I’ve been in Texas a few times. It’s a vast place. Missouri, not as much.”
“It’s big, yeah.” He steered away from the big hotels and convention areas, heading for the seedier bars.
It said something to him, that she didn’t tense up, didn’t ask where they were going. Hopefully it didn’t say she was stupid.
The bar was damned near a half-hour away and by the time they’d parked, he’d learned that she’d had a Chihuahua for years that had only recently died, that she liked hot wings and that her laugh was less like tinkling bells and more like a full-on gut burst.
He’d told her about his momma’s fascination with them naked hairless cats, about the horrors of working on a septic tank and about his Charley—the grumpy, raw-boned bastard that he loved to ride above all the other horses in the stables.
“How do you feel about fried onions?” Ace loved the toothpick thingees at this bar.
“I think that fried food is a sign that there is a God and he loves us, no matter what the surgeon general says about it.”
“Then you’re the girl for me to bring here.” He took her hand to help her out of the truck. Her heels might be treacherous on the uneven pavement.
“Thank you.” She let him help her inside without a fuss, even grinning when the bouncer—who seemed twelve if he was a day—hopped up, obviously recognizing Ace.
“Mr. Porter, sir. Good to see you.”
Ace nodded, grinned, secretly pleased as punch. “Still got that mechanical bull, son?”
“Yes, sir. We surely do. Come on in. It’s real quiet tonight. So good to see you again.”
“Thanks.” He shook the kid’s hand since he couldn’t remember ever seeing him before and had no name to use.
Kitty chuckled, followed him in. “You’ve been here before.”
“Few times, yeah.” The kid at the door had the look of a transplanted rodeo fan, anyway. Someone who would know him no matter where he was. The kid was right, the bar was quiet, peaceful, and Ace found them a little booth in the back.
“This okay?” He wanted it to be private enough for them to talk.
“This is just fine, thank you.” Kitty put her purse down beside her on the table, her little silvery watch clicking on the wood.
“You want a beer? I think they might have something decent here.” Hell, they might even have Shiner.
“Sure. Decent beer is infinitely preferable to the watered-down grape juice they were calling wine.” Kitty had the prettiest smile—it lit her whole face up.
“I like your style, lady.” He waved the little waitress over, ignoring the fake tits she presented in her low-cut Daisy Duke knock-off outfit. “You still have Shiner here, hon?”
“We sure do, honey. Y’all need menus?” Her accent was so fake it made his teeth itch.
“Yes, please.” Ace waited for the girl to sashay off before grinning a little at Kitty. “You’re not an actress, right?”
“God, no. I can’t act my way out of a paper bag.” That laugh rang out again, warm and purely tickled. “I’m a news reporter.”
Something stirred in the back of his mind and Ace felt his cheeks heat. “Lord, I ought to know who you are, huh?”
“Well, given that you have a poster prominently displayed here and I don’t know you, let’s call it even, huh?” She touched his wrist. “Sometimes it’s good to get to know somebody from the start.”
“Yeah.” His skin heated right up under her touch. “So, I’m a bull rider, and you’re a reporter. Do you eat meat?” Wait, he knew that. Well, she ate chicken. “Steak, I mean.”
“I am an omnivore, honestly. I have to be, for work. You wouldn’t believe the weirdness people pretend to enjoy just to shock a girl.”
“I promise never to pretend I like calf fries.” Ace shuddered. “A guy like me can’t kiss a vegetarian girl.”
That laugh happened again, and her carefully arranged hair started to fall a little, blonde curls framing her face. “No. I don’t imagine so. You’ve got beef sunk into your skin.”
“Something like that.” He couldn’t hack it—he had to turn and look over his shoulder to see what poster she was talking about. Oh, jeez, he’d been young then. Him and Lucky and Cash and Steele all had. The Four Horsemen. God, they’d played hard. He missed it. Not all the time, of course, but enough. They’d had more fun than was reasonable.
“Oh, man. I smell a story.”
“Huh?” He blinked, then laughed. “More like a thousand stories, and all bad.”
Kitty chuckled. “Not all bad. I can tell that from the poster alone. That sort of connection can’t be faked. I bet you four got into scrapes. Do you still ride?”
“Only in the exhibitions. I’m all corporate now.” Someone had to keep the suits from taking it too far, and he sure couldn’t see Steele or Baltazar Silva doing it.
“You’re a suit? How fun is that?” Her toe nudged his calf, barely brushing it. “I am, most definitely, not a suit. The network biggies hate me.”
“Oh, me, too.” Sandy was a decent guy, but they had an uneasy truce at best.
“So what were you doing at Mandy’s party? Are you looking or being looked at?”
“Both, I reckon. We’re trying to get one of the big satellite networks to carry our events. What about you? Why were you schmoozing?” The beer and menus came, and he was glad to see she wasn’t a delicate sipper.
“There’s a journalist here in LA with connections to someone I’m interested in talking to in Chihuahua. I was hoping to corner him, but he didn’t show. I did talk to his housekeeper, though, and I know where he’s going to be in two days.” Her eyes were sharp suddenly, and her nose twitched. God, that was hot. A hunter on the trail of prey.
“You got a way in, huh?” Two days. That could be promising if she needed to stick around.
“That’s all I need. Of course, now I have to cool my heels.”
“Oh, I’m sure you can think of something to do.” Ace could. He could think of lots.
That smile was knowing, wicked, a little naughty, and it made him go zing. “I’m a smart lady.”
“I bet you are.” Ace paused, glancing at the menu. “If we both eat the onions, there won’t be an issue, huh?”
“You are a smart man, but before we get into that, I have to ask. Are you involved with someone? I’m not opposed to having a little fun, but I’ve been the one who got cheated on more than once. I’m not interested in that.”
“No, ma’am. My last long-time thing was when I was still riding with them.” He jerked a thumb over his shoulder at the Four Horsemen, hoping that didn’t make him sound t
oo desperate.
“Mine was long enough ago that he’s married to a soap opera diva and has two babies, so we’re fair.” She leaned back. “Besides, it takes a strong man to get past Leroy.”
“Leroy?” He frowned a little. “I thought you said you weren’t involved?”
Kitty held up one finger in the universal ‘hold on’ gesture, dug in her purse, pulled out a little phone and started pushing buttons before showing him the picture of a huge older man, shoulders four times as wide as his, holding a tiny baby in his big, dark hands. “This is Leroy and his new daughter. He’s my cameraman, my best friend. He’s my hero.”
“Ah.” Well, that was better. He nodded. “The one on the end on the right? That’s my best buddy Steele Flanagan.”
“That’s a great name.” She wiggled a little and Ace heard the heels click as they fell on the floor and she tucked her feet under her.
“Yeah. I tease him unmercifully.” They shared a grin that was all about best friends.
They ordered onion rings and hot wings and another round of Shiner. Every time she laughed, more curls got loose from her bun, surrounding her face. She was fascinating. She was real. Ace was a little worried, because a guy like him could get to needing a lady like her.
The music started playing, the lights went down, and she touched his wrist again, fingertips warm and soft. “So you travel most of the time?”
“I’m on the road a good bit, yeah. We do about three months off a year.” He turned his hand, his fingers gripping hers lightly.
“I’m more random than that. I can be off on assignment for months sometimes. Honey wants to kill us.”
“Honey?” He was feeling a little like he’d been dropped in a weird TV show or something.
“Sorry. Leroy’s wife. She’s a force of nature.”
“Ah. Sorry. Most of my friends aren’t married.” Okay, how stupid was that to say? Way to announce that cowboys could have trouble settling down.