Unridden: A Studs in Spurs novel

by Cat Johnson

  Stifling another groan, Slade rose from the bed at about the pace of an eighty-year-old man, or that of a bull rider who had broken more bones over the course of his career than he could count.

  On the way back from the bathroom, Slade’s stomach growled loudly and he realized he’d have to deal with that need soon too.

  Mustang laughed from the bed. “Yeah, I could eat too. But, damn, I’m still tired.”

  Crawling back into his own bed for just another minute or two, Slade had to agree. “Yeah. Me too. Think they’ll deliver a pizza to the trailer?”

  Mustang laughed again. “Might be worth a try. I could use another hour’s sleep though. Fucking all night and half the morning sure does take a lot out of a man.”

  Slade scowled. “Shut up, Mustang. I hate when you say shit like that.”

  Mustang sighed. “All right, what’d I do wrong now?”

  “Never mind,” Slade mumbled.

  “No. Not never mind. You’re making a face and barely talking to me. You’re pissed.”

  “It’s nothing. Go back to sleep.”

  “No. Tell me what the hell is wrong or I will keep asking until you do…all day,” Mustang glanced at the clock himself, “or all night long, if I have to.”

  Slade had no doubt, so he gave in. “I just don’t like you using that word when you’re talking about Jenna.”

  Mustang pushed himself upright to lean back against the headboard, frowning. “What word? Fucking?”

  “Yes.”

  “You’re mad because I said fucking? Are you kidding me? I use that word all the time, for everything, and so do you. What’s the problem?”

  “Say it as much as you want, but don’t use it for what you and I did with Jenna. All right?” The more the conversation went on, the more ridiculous Slade felt for starting it. Especially when Mustang raised a brow and stared at Slade with a look of shock on his face.

  “You’re getting really weird lately.”

  “Just because I don’t want you to insult Jenna? That’s not weird. Go back to sleep, Mustang.” Slade squeezed his eyes shut, wishing for quiet.

  “That’s another thing. You not only remember her name, but you actually said it while you were f—having sex with her.”

  Slade groaned and wished again he’d never started this. “I said her name. So what?”

  “So what? You never do that. Ever. You usually can’t even remember their names and if you do, you never say them during sex.”

  This conversation was going places Slade didn’t want it to go. “Shut up, Mustang.”

  There was silence for a few, short, peaceful moments, then it was over when Mustang’s lips started flapping again.

  “You kissed her too.”

  Slade kept his mouth glued shut, hoping Mustang would take the hint and do the same. He didn’t.

  “You never kiss them. And you went down on her. You never ever do that. Not in front of me, anyway.”

  Shit. Slade really didn’t want to discuss this. “What the hell, Mustang? Are you going to analyze the way I fuck now too?”

  Never slow when it came to verbal sparring, Mustang shot right back, “I thought we weren’t using that word anymore, and actually, yeah, I am gonna analyze how you fuck. You faced her. You always do them from behind.”

  “Jesus Christ! First of all, it’s freaking me out that you were watching me so damn close.”

  “Well, don’t say it like that. I wasn’t drooling over your ass or anything. I was just watching you watching her, which you did the whole time, by the way. You never took your eyes off her face and you never do th—”

  Slade cut off Mustang’s sexual recap. “Is there a point to all of this shit?”

  “Yes, there is.”

  “And I am sure you are about to enlighten me.” Letting out a sigh, Slade resigned himself to the fact Mustang wasn’t nearly done yet. He should have just kept his mouth shut to begin with or gone out and gotten them that damn pizza. Too late now.

  From across the trailer, Mustang grinned at him. “Of course I am. The point is that you like Jenna.”

  “So I like her. Big deal. You do too.” Slade punched his pillow into place and faced the wall hoping it would shut Mustang up and end this conversation once and for all.

  “Sure I like her. Jenna’s great. That’s not the point. I mean you like-like her.”

  “Like-like her!” Slade rolled over and lifted himself up on one elbow to stare at Mustang in the other bed. “What, are you in fifth grade?”

  “You’re the one acting like you are some middle-schooler with a crush. You’re so quiet you barely even talk to her, but you’re always staring at her.” As Slade flopped back onto the mattress with a huff, Mustang continued. “And what the hell was with all the shots of whisky last night? You know what happens to you when you—”

  “Mustang, enough!” Slade growled.

  “Admit to me you like her and I’ll shut up.”

  “I seriously doubt that.” How the hell could Slade admit to Mustang what he couldn’t even admit to himself? “Just go back to sleep.”

  Mustang laughed. “Okay, Romeo.”

  Then thankfully, there was quiet, except for the incredibly loud thoughts careening through Slade’s head and the echo of Mustang’s observation.

  You like Jenna.

  Yeah, Slade realized, he did, and his only thought after admitting that to himself was, Shit.

  Chapter Thirteen

  As the taxi pulled up in front of the now familiar bar and the four authors crammed inside threw money at the driver, Jenna began to fully realize her error in suggesting they come here.

  What if Slade and Mustang were inside? They would most likely come right over and each plant a huge kiss on her right in front of her friends. Then what? She’d have to explain to her author buddies that she’d had a little cowboy threesome fantasy for herself the night before. No way could she do that. She would just have to get to them first and tell them to play it cool and pretend they’d just met her.

  As Jenna slid out of the cab and pulled the hem of her dress down, she realized that scenario was the best case. The worst case, and far more likely, would be that by this late hour the two cowboys were already deeply engrossed in picking up another woman in that bar.

  So there Jenna stood, staring at the door, too frightened to open it, afraid to face what might be inside.

  She nearly spun around and ran after the cab until Barb opened the door and Ann and Megan, the other two authors behind her, pretty much bodily carried her through the entrance. Everyone in their party, except Jenna, had a new found enthusiasm to get inside. They now knew there would be cowboys inside after Barb read aloud the message on the flashing arena sign across the street about the bull riding competition.

  Inside, Jenna’s companions were not disappointed by the sea of wall-to-wall cowboy hats. Apparently a day off from competition meant every bull rider in the event had nothing else to do but come to the bar. Heart lodged firmly in her throat, Jenna quickly scanned the room and breathed a sigh of mixed relief and disappointment. Dozens of eyes looked in their direction, but the two pairs she sought specifically weren’t there.

  Jenna considered the reason why Slade and Mustang were conspicuously absent. Obviously they’d already selected a tasty tidbit from the Buckle Bunny buffet and were enjoying her back in the trailer.

  Jenna felt her heart squeeze even as Barb tugged her hand, pulling her through the crowd toward a table which, while in her self-pity reverie, Jenna hadn’t noticed their two companions claim in the far corner. The same table she had shared with Slade and Mustang that first night.

  The neon blue beer sign still hung where it had, except now it illuminated four city girls rather than the two bull riders who’d made love to her barely twenty-four hours before. That thought caused a twisting of desire low in Jenna’s belly, while at the same time she felt nauseated as she again wondered who they were with now.

  A cocktail waitress appeared, the
same one who had served them the night before. Jenna bit her lip, praying the woman wouldn’t mention her presence for three nights in a row now, or the fact she’d left with the same two cowboys both nights.

  “How about a pitcher of beer, ladies?”

  Nods of assent followed Barb’s suggestion.

  “What do you have on tap? Anything brewed locally?” Barb asked.

  That question got a raised eyebrow from the waitress. “We’ve got Bud on tap. That’s it.”

  “Okay. Bud it is then, and four glasses.”

  Jenna smiled to herself, knowing from experience they’d be getting four plastic cups, not glasses. She may be out of place here, but at least she had some experience under her belt. The other three were total fish out of water.

  “Look at all the cute cowboys!” Ann looked around wide-eyed.

  “Yeah, and they’re all about the same age as my son,” Megan commented.

  “They kind of have to be young to ride bulls. The oldest pro bull rider in competition is thirty-eight.”

  Jenna glanced around and realized all eyes were upon her.

  “How do you know all this?” Ann, also a city girl, asked.

  “She’s writing a cowboy book,” Barb supplied.

  Jenna nodded her head, thankful for Barb’s explanation. She’d finally confessed to Barb the contemporary she was writing was a cowboy theme but that was it. “Yup. I’ve been doing my research. You’d be amazed what you can find on the Internet.”

  Megan nodded. “Oh yeah. You should see all the stuff I found on treatments for insanity during the Regency period in England.”

  With that, the conversation turned to what it always did when authors got together, whatever books they were working on.

  Jenna breathed a sigh of relief that the spotlight was off of her and took the time to look around the bar. Resigned to the fact that Slade and Mustang weren’t there, it somehow made her feel better that she could identify some of the riders from the competition.

  Her eyes wandered, and she noted one pair trained on her. The cowboy caught her eye and before she could avert her gaze; he was smiling and heading her direction.

  Wide-eyed, she watched as he made a beeline to their table, tipped his hat.

  All conversation stopped again as the three romance authors, as eager for a good story in life as on paper, watched the action between Jenna and the young bull rider.

  He gave her a, “Howdy, ma’am” that in any other situation would have charmed the pants off her. If, that is, he wasn’t a child and if she wasn’t already half in love with Slade and Mustang.

  “Um, hi.”

  “I recognized you from the stands and I just thought I’d say hey.”

  Jenna glanced at the interested glances of her friends. “Um, I’m sorry. You must be mistaken.”

  “Last night. You were seated with the riders wives and girlfriends…you know, right behind the chutes.”

  “Um, no. Sorry. Must have been somebody else.”

  Strangely, his face brightened. “Really? Hmm. Well, I apologize for the mistake and I’d like to ask you to dance.”

  With another look at the women at the table, Jenna was torn what to do. Go with him to the dance floor so at least he was away from her friends and couldn’t out her? Or say no thank you and hope he went away.

  Apparently she had no choice in the matter because her friends practically flung her from the table while at the same time the young bull rider grabbed her hand and led her out to the dance floor.

  Before Jenna knew it, she was encased in his arms and spinning around the hardwood, exactly where she had been the night before but in Mustang’s embrace. When exactly had her life gotten so strange?

  “So, I have to admit something to you. I’m glad I made a mistake about you being at the arena last night.”

  Her writer’s curiosity raised, Jenna couldn’t help herself and asked, “Why is that?”

  He grinned charmingly, his blue eyes twinkling. “Because if that had been you in the VIP section, that would mean you were with one of the other riders.”

  Jenna sighed as she evaluated if this kid was old enough to legally even be in the bar and drink. “Listen, um, what was your name?”

  “Chase.” He smiled again.

  “Hi, Chase. I’m Jenna.”

  Chase dipped his head once in greeting. “Jenna, that’s a beautiful name. It fits you perfectly. A beautiful name for a beautiful woman.”

  Damn, the kid had all the bar pick up lines down already. She ignored his flirting and got back to the issue at hand, the fact that Chase recognized her from the competition. What if he brought up again how he thought he’d seen her the night before and the other authors started to ask questions? He could expose her to her friends as a liar and a sneak, not to mention a slut if you added in the two cowboys she’d had sex with.

  “Listen, Chase. I’m going to tell you a secret and I’m going to ask you not to tell anyone else. Can you do that?”

  “Sure.” He looked tickled that she was willing to share a confidence with him.

  “I was at the arena last night but I lied to my friends back there and told them I was somewhere else.”

  Chase frowned and glanced back at the table full of women. “Why?”

  Sighing, Jenna decided to try something new for a change and told him the truth...most of it anyway. “It’s kind of complicated, but long story short, I’m a writer.”

  “Wow! Have I read anything you’ve written?”

  “I doubt it, but the point is, it is an extremely competitive business and, for certain reasons, I didn’t want one particular author to know that I was at the competition last night researching my book.”

  Chase nodded. “Because she might steal your idea.”

  Jenna smiled. “Yeah, something like that. To keep her from knowing, I lied to all my friends about it. So you understand why I can’t let any of my friends back there know that you saw me last night?”

  Chase glanced back at the table of women, who were no doubt still watching them like hawks, then leaned in conspiratorially. “Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

  He didn’t lean back after the whisper, but stayed with his head pressed against hers. He was taller than her, but with his head tipped down, Chase’s sandy curls tickled her face.

  She might have been tempted, in another lifetime where she was ten years younger and not still sore from a night of having sex with not one, but two of this kid’s fellow bull riders. But as things stood, Jenna was old and, in spite of last night’s threesome, not a loose enough woman to sleep her way through the ranks of the top bull riders, even though Chase was absolutely adorable and obviously interested in her.

  It was up to Jenna to lean her head back so she could point the obvious issue out to him. “Chase. How old are you?”

  He grinned proudly. “Twenty-one today, ma’am.”

  Twenty-one. Jeez. Jenna stifled a groan at that revelation.

  He should only know that the constant ma’am-ing was not helping his case with her one bit. “Chase. Listen. I am way too old for you.”

  “Heck no, you’re not. I like women a few years older than me.”

  A few! She controlled a burst of bitter laughter at his description of her. But it did explain why he was bothering with her and not one of the young girls scattered around the bar giving Jenna the evil eye for dancing with Chase. She allowed herself another glance at them, and if they were old enough to legally drink, she’d eat Chase’s hat.

  Jenna directed her focus back onto Chase, who was obviously having a little younger-man-older-woman-Mrs.-Robinson fantasy for himself, so the age issue wasn’t going to dissuade him. She’d have to try another tactic.

  “I’m not exactly available, Chase.” That wasn’t really a lie either. No, she wasn’t dating Slade or Mustang by any stretch of the imagination, but they were the only ones she was interested in at the moment, hence, that made her unavailable.

  Even if they were pro
bably with some other woman. The resurgence of that thought twisted her gut nicely.

  “Is he here with you now?” Chase looked around the bar, knowing full well she’d walked in with three women and no men since the entire bar had turned to watch their entrance.

  “No.” Unfortunately.

  She hated the thought of where they were and what they were doing.

  Chase smiled sweetly. “Then don’t worry about it. It’s just a dance, Jenna. Make a cowboy happy on his birthday and give him just one dance. Okay?”

  Feeling a bit relieved, Jenna returned his smile. “Okay.”

  As Chase steered her expertly around the dance floor to the strains of some broken-heart country song, she let herself relax and enjoy the dance and the attention. Who knew when she’d get such unfailing male devotion again once she left Tulsa?

  Where were these kind of guys when she was growing up? Certainly not in the suburbs of New York. Apparently, she should have come to Tulsa years ago.

  “In case I don’t get a chance later, I just wanted to thank you for the dance, Jenna.”

  “You’re welcome. It is the least I can do for your twenty-first birthday.” She smothered a cringe at the number she hadn’t been able to claim in a long, long time.

  “Then maybe I can get just one little kiss? You know, for my birthday.” Chase raised his brow expectantly and treated Jenna to a sweetly naughty, cherubic grin that only made her laugh.

  “Don’t push it, cowboy.” Jenna’s warning probably held less weight considering she was trying not to laugh at his creative tactics while she said it.

  Chase smiled. “We’ll see. I think you’ll come around to my way of thinking.”

  Now, Jenna did laugh at him. “Oh boy, you are a persistent one.”

  “You have to be persistent in this business. Hey! Do you know that I’m up for Rookie of the Year? There’s a good chance I’ll get it too, as long as I make both my rides tomorrow night.”

  Jenna realized she’d been hanging around this environment too much when she heard herself ask, “Rookie of the Year. Do you get a buckle for that?”

  Chase grinned wider. “Yes, ma’am. I do. You’re interested in buckles, are you?”