Unridden: A Studs in Spurs novel

by Cat Johnson

  Slade shrugged, his voice sounding flat. “Yeah. Fine.”

  Mustang shook his head and turned for the back of the bar. Yup, this was sure gonna be one hell of a drive.

  ———

  Jenna wrote until the plane landed in New Jersey. She retrieved her car from long-term parking and though she had to drive, she still couldn’t keep her brain from thinking about writing the entire distance home from the airport. When she got to her condo, she dumped her suitcase by the door and opened the laptop.

  Reliving every moment of the last week, Jenna laughed and she cried. The book, much like her life the past few days, was an emotional roller coaster. She giggled out loud at the scene where her heroine asks the two heroes if they wear a cup when they ride, remembering the looks on Slade and Mustang’s faces at that question.

  Jenna laughed, knowing she would just as easily cry later on when she wrote the part where the heroine had to leave, but it was okay. Writing this book was kind of like therapy. Being busy kept her mind off missing them. She needed a distraction from the fact they had not called to make sure she’d made it home okay. More than likely they would never call her. She’d never hear their laughs or feel their touch again.

  Jenna pushed those thoughts and the pain they caused, aside. She sat up and worked on the book until late into the night, or actually, early the next morning. She stopped only to make a cup of tea and then, pee.

  She wrote until her wrists ached, her back cramped and she couldn’t sit any longer. Even then, she put the laptop on the kitchen counter and stood to type for another hour. She only stopped when her eyes finally gave up and refused to focus on the words on the screen any longer.

  When Jenna gave in and went to bed, her head continued spinning with snippets of dialogue. She squeezed her eyes shut and willed sleep to come but her whirling brain wouldn’t let it. She fought the temptation to get up again and jot it all down. Finally, she realized it was no use. Jenna did get up and scribbled a few lines, and then left the pen and pad of paper next to the bed just in case inspiration struck again during the night…err, rather morning.

  Jenna finally fell asleep just as the sun began to creep through her window blinds.

  It seemed as if she’d barely closed her eyes when an obnoxious sound, which her exhausted brain took far too long to identify as her cell phone, intruded on her rest. What had she gotten, maybe ten minutes sleep? It certainly felt that way. She could barely focus to see the name on the caller ID.

  Thinking it could possibly be the boys calling her, Jenna gave up trying to see who it was and just flipped open the phone instead, but when Jenna heard Astrid’s annoyed voice, she couldn’t help regretting her impulsive choice. On practically no sleep, Jenna was not in the mood to be yelled at by her best friend.

  “Why have you been avoiding my calls?”

  Jenna stifled a groan as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Her voice sounded scratchy when she answered. “I haven’t. I left you messages.”

  “Yeah, on my work phone when you knew I wasn’t at work.”

  “Oh, did I call your work number? Sorry, I just hit your name on my call list. I thought it was your cell.” Jenna felt the urge to check the sky out the window for lightening bolts at that whopper of a lie. Although, she was pretty impressed with herself for coming up with it so fast, especially given her current, sleep deprived state.

  Jenna could practically hear Astrid’s frown through the phone. “How come you never answered when I called you?”

  “I’ve told you what these conferences are like, Astrid. I can’t answer the phone in the middle of a session or a speech, can I? They keep us on the go from early morning until late at night.” Not to mention the extracurricular activities that Jenna had managed to fit in on her own in the off hours.

  “Did you at least get out to see Tulsa? One of my co-workers told me there are some beautiful art deco buildings downtown. There’s supposed to be a Frank Lloyd Wright house too.”

  Normally, Jenna would have been into all of that, but this trip, she was more into seeing her country boys than seeing the country. “Nope. The only sightseeing I did was what I saw from the back seat of a cab between the airport and the hotel.”

  “Oh really? And yet you managed to go out and meet those two bull riders on your birthday. Which you never told me about, by the way.”

  Jenna sighed and got ready for another round of stretching the truth. “I went to the sports complex to watch the bull riding competition for my book research and then I met them at the place across the street afterwards to get back my manuscript, which they had fact checked for me. I had exactly one drink. That’s it, Astrid.”

  Jenna eyed the original manuscript, the one Slade had corrected for her. It lay on the table where she’d left it after going through and highlighting any bull facts he’d penciled in that she thought she could use for the new book. In between the romance she did want to include some bull riding, and Slade had given her some great details, not to mention his soul touching recollection of his first ride. That was definitely going in the book.

  “And? How did you leave it with your two rodeo cowboys? Are you going to keep in touch with them to get more stuff for your book?”

  “I didn’t get either of their phone numbers.” Jenna pouted because amid all the lies she’d been spewing recently, that part was, sadly, the absolute truth.

  “You let them go without getting their numbers? Oh my God, Jenna! Have I taught you nothing?”

  “What was I supposed to do? They didn’t offer to give me their numbers.” But they did have her number. Although, since they hadn’t called to see that she landed safely like they’d promised, if they called her at all it would be a miracle.

  With that depressing thought, Jenna listened to Astrid lecture her some more while she pulled her laptop from under the bed. Snuggling under the covers she booted up and opened the file for her new book, typing as quietly as possible while, hopefully, responding with an occasional mmm hmm or you’re right at the appropriate times during Astrid’s monologue.

  Chapter Twenty-three

  The phone rang and Jenna saw her agent’s name on the caller ID. Heart pounding, she answered the call with hands that trembled. “Hello.”

  “I love it.”

  The breath Jenna had been holding whooshed out of her in one huge burst. “You do? Really?”

  “It’s exactly what the publishers are looking for. Cowboys, lots of hot sex, a Male/Female/Male ménage. It’s perfect.”

  Thank God. “Thanks, Marge.”

  “I would make one suggestion, though.”

  Here it comes. Jenna’s heart fell as far as it had lifted just moments before. “What’s that?”

  “I’m submitting this one to the publisher as it is, but you might want to consider making it a true ménage for your next book.”

  She stowed the rejoicing over Marge’s talking about her next book and frowned. “What do you mean a true ménage?”

  There couldn’t be much more sex in there. She had the characters doing pretty much everything possible. Parts lower warmed at the memory that she too had done pretty much everything possible with her two cowboys in real life. Damn, she missed them.

  “You know. Male/Male/Female. The hottest sellers right now are books where the men have a sexual relationship with each other, as well as with the woman.”

  Jenna felt the color drain from her face as she considered what Slade and Mustang would think if she wrote a sexual relationship for their two characters in the book. She didn’t think their reaction would be pretty.

  “Uh, okay. I’ll keep that in mind. Maybe for the next book…” One about totally fictional cowboys, not real bull riders who would be very unhappy with her.

  “Good. Because I think you’ve got the beginnings of a whole line of rodeo-themed, western romance ménages here. Your details are great.”

  “It’s not a rodeo.”

  “Hmm?”

  “It’s not…” Jenna hea
rd the rustling of papers on Marge’s desk and realized the limited window of Marge’s attention span had expired. “Never mind. Um, so what’s the next step?”

  “You get to work and start writing the next book. I’m confident this manuscript will not only get contracted, but they’ll probably want to contract the next one or two in the series in advance. Can you come up with stories for the side characters?”

  “A contract for a series? Wow. Yeah, sure I can come up with more stories.”

  “Great, because there’s a good chance this book will be a bestseller for you.”

  Bestseller. Jenna’s heart sped at the words.

  “Listen, my other line is ringing. I’ll get the contract over to you to sign the moment I receive it.”

  “Okay. Thanks.”

  As Marge hung up, Jenna wanted nothing more than to call Mustang and Slade and tell them about the book and her agent’s reaction to it, but she couldn’t. They hadn’t called her, and she couldn’t call them. That overshadowed everything else.

  ———

  Frustrated, Mustang gripped the phone tighter and tried to reign in his annoyance with the operator on the line. Who would have thought finding one little phone number could be so hard?

  Chase rounded the corner and donned a huge smile. “Hey, Mustang! Can you believe we’re actually in New York City?”

  Showing Chase the receiver of the pay phone he held to his ear, Mustang frowned at the rookie and held one finger up against his own lips just as the operator’s voice came back on the line and asked him to spell Jenna’s name.

  “Jenna Block. B-L-O-C-K… No, I guess I’m not sure which city she lives in. I’d thought it was New York City… No, I didn’t know there were five different boroughs in New York City. Can’t you check all of them? Or actually, you better check the whole state.” Maybe she didn’t live in the city. She’d never actually said she did, he’d just assumed.

  Mustang stared impatiently at the scratches in the acrylic partition surrounding the hotel lobby’s pay phone as he waited. For some reason, Chase stood there and waited with him. Mustang opened his mouth to ask the kid why just as the patronizingly helpful voice on the other end of the line gave him an absurdly high number of J. and/or Jenna Blocks living in New York State and what little hope he had of tracking down Jenna while they were in New York faded.

  Mustang ran a hand over his face and resisted the urge to beat his head against the wall “Oh. That many, huh? Okay. Never mind. Thanks.”

  With a huge sigh, he slammed the receiver back onto the cradle with more force than was necessary and, at a loss what to try next, turned to go back up to his room only to find Chase watching him.

  “Doesn’t Slade have Jenna’s phone number?”

  “It’s complicated, kid.” Mustang walked away, but Chase followed. Puppies and young bull riders tended to follow Mustang around. He’d never quite understood why.

  “What happened? Did Slade lose her number? Oh, man! Is she gonna be pissed off at him.”

  More likely Slade was gonna be pissed at Mustang, possibly enough to beat the crap out of him, when he found out about Mustang’s meddling.

  Slade had torn up and thrown away Jenna’s phone number for a reason, though most likely not for the reason Slade had given. He’d said it was so Mustang couldn’t call Jenna and give her false hope. Mustang had another theory. He was convinced Slade got rid of that number because he was too tempted to call her himself.

  Mustang was starting to grasp that when it came to self-denial and stupid choices, Slade was a real champ. Ranked number one.

  Stopping when he finally reached the bank of elevators, Mustang realized the kid was still trailing behind him. He turned with a sigh, hoping the rookie wouldn’t follow him all the way up to his room.

  “What I don’t get is why you’re trying to find Jenna’s number instead of Slade. I mean she was dating him, not you.”

  This kid really needed to learn when to leave well enough alone. “Slade’s too damn stubborn, that’s why.”

  Chase stood before him, smiling. Mustang wasn’t in the mood for anyone who was smiling.

  The elevator door slid open and Mustang was about to put some distance between himself and Rookie Smiley when what Chase said next stopped him dead in his tracks. “So, I guess it’s lucky for Slade that I can get him Jenna’s number. Huh?”

  “You can?” The elevator doors closed again and Mustang made no attempt to stop them, suddenly not so annoyed with Chase any longer.

  “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I can get her number, or at least get a message to her.”

  “How?” Had Jenna given her number to Chase back in Tulsa? This was too good. Why didn’t Mustang think to ask the kid right away instead of going to all that trouble calling directory assistance trying to track her down on the damn payphone?

  “When Jenna and her friends were at the bar in Tulsa, one of the other authors, Barb was her name, hooked up with Garret James. Garret got Barb’s number and they’ve been texting back and forth since that night. He could ask her friend Barb for Jenna’s number. I bet she’s got it.”

  For a man who had yet to give in and buy a cell phone, it all sounded intriguing but also pretty complicated to Mustang. Luckily, Chase didn’t seem concerned. Instead he whipped out his own phone, punched a few buttons and not more than a few seconds later, the damn thing chimed.

  Chase glanced down, then looked up from the phone, grinning. “Garret says he’ll text Barb and ask for Jenna’s number right now. He’ll get back to me when he has it.”

  Skeptical, Mustang crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, waiting. Lo and behold, about a minute later, Chase’s phone chimed again. The kid read the screen, then thrust the phone at Mustang for him to see the digits for himself.

  “There you go. Jenna’s number. Want me to dial for you?”

  Mustang stared at the phone in Chase’s hand for a second, considering. Finally he sighed.

  What the hell. Why not?

  How bad could Slade hurt him anyway? He could do no worse than what Mustang got every time he jumped on the back of a bull.

  Decision made, he nodded. “Yeah. Go ahead. Call her.”

  After a few static filled rings, the voice Mustang hadn’t heard for months came through the phone. “Hello?”

  Mustang swallowed, strangely nervous. “Hey, darlin’.”

  She recognized his voice too. There was a moment of silence followed by a short laugh that didn’t sound at all happy. “Mustang.”

  This may take a bit of charm. “That’s right. The one and only. How have you been, darlin’?”

  “Fine.”

  Chase had been dead on. Judging by the one-word answers, Jenna was pissed as all hell because they hadn’t called.

  “How would you like a chute-side ticket to watch a bull ride at Madison Square Garden?”

  She was silent and Mustang wished, not for the first time, that he wasn’t beholden to Chase for the use of his phone because he really wanted the kid to go away so he could have some privacy to talk with her and maybe explain things.

  Jenna was quiet for so long, Mustang finally asked, “Uh, hello?”

  “I’m here.” He heard her blow out a long breath of air. “What day?”

  Mustang grinned. “Tomorrow night. Eight pm. I’ll leave the ticket under your name at the pick-up window.”

  Again, she took a long time to answer. “All right.”

  “Okay, great! See ya’ then, darlin’.”

  “Okay. Bye.” Then the call went dead.

  Mustang took a deep breath and handed the phone back to Chase.

  It looked like Jenna was going to require some soothing. Getting back in her good graces and her bed was going to be a lot of work.

  Damn Slade.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Slade glanced down at the tattered scrap of paper he held between two fingers. The ink was so worn and faded from being carried around in his wallet for months that the numbers were barel
y visible.

  How many times he had taken this paper out and considered calling her, he couldn’t count. But this time he wasn’t a thousand miles away and calling her didn’t seem as pointless.

  Steeling his nerves, he sat on the edge of the mattress and reached for the phone on the nightstand between the room’s two double beds.

  He’d dialed three numbers when he heard the door unlock and open. Slade slammed the receiver down and standing, hid the paper deep in the front pocket of his jeans just as Mustang walked into the room.

  Slade shoved his hands into his pockets and tried to look casual. “So, uh, what’s up?”

  “Not much.” Mustang barely glanced at Slade, making a beeline directly for the remote control.

  Slade breathed freer when all of Mustang’s concentration focused on the television as it sprang to life. Slade sat again, stretching his legs out on the ugly bedspread as he heard the cheesy music of the hotel’s information channel come on.

  Slade couldn’t call Jenna if Mustang stayed planted right there all night. He glanced at the clock. “So, you got anything planned for later?”

  Mustang shook his head, eyes still on the television as he clicked through the cable channels. “Me? Nope.”

  “Any of the other guys doing anything?”

  Mustang nodded. “The kids are all going out barhopping for the night. Hey, look. We’ve got two movie channels.”

  “Don’t you want to go out with them?” Slade asked hopefully, though Mustang’s discovery of HBO may have sunk any hope that he’d leave the room.

  Glancing over at Slade, Mustang answered, “Not really. Do you?”

  “Nah. I don’t wanna be hung over for tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, me neither. Not for the first match up of the season after being off for so long.”

  It appeared as if they were at a standoff, Mustang not leaving the room, Slade not willing to give in and go find a payphone. That was okay. Slade figured he could wait him out until Mustang casually added, “Oh, and Jenna’s going to be in the audience tomorrow.”