by Erin Bevan
“Well, I’ll be damned,” said a large man, sitting at the kitchen table. “Joe said he was sending a Bobby. I had no idea it was you, pretty girl.”
“Yes, sir.” She placed her purse on the granite countertop beside two rooster salt and pepper-shakers.
“Come sit down.” Big Bill gestured her and Mike to two chairs. “Sara’s got you guys some snacks here. We’ll get you all settled in, and then you two and Jason can go on out and get saddled up. Get yourselves acquainted with the horses.”
“Sounds great.” Sara handed her a water glass.
Mike shoved a cookie into his mouth. “I can’t wait for the drive,” he said between chews; crumbs fell to the tabletop.
The clomping of boots on wood grabbed her attention. Jason descended the steps into the living area, walked into the kitchen, and avoided eye contact with her.
“It’s going to be fun, but it’s hard work...”
The sound of Big Bill’s voice drew her back into the conversation.
“We need you two rested and ready.” He rose from the table. “I’ve got to get back to the office and do some paperwork. Jason, show these two around after they get settled. Get them ready for the trail. We start bright and early Saturday morning. Six a.m. Be ready.”
“We will be, sir.” Bobby Jo took a cookie from the counter. “I think I’ll go change now.”
She caught the broody cowboy’s eye and cast him a smile as she left the kitchen. He didn’t smile back.
Figures.
****
Jason had to admit he’d been wrong. The beauty queen could ride a horse. He’d spent the last day and a half watching as she handled Quick Feet with amazing ease, each taking to the other like a bee to a flower. He didn’t like sharing his favorite horse, but, for some reason, he didn’t mind so much sharing her with Bobby Jo’s gentle touch. Quick Feet didn’t appear to mind either.
Just because she could ride a horse, though, didn’t mean she could handle a horse drive, and it sure as hell didn’t mean she could ride anything—although, he couldn’t get visions of them together out of his mind.
She was brushing Quick Feet’s coat when he walked into the barn.
“Bobby Jo, I need you to come over here and look at this map.”
Jason unfolded the paper and spread it out on a worktable. She placed the brush back on its hook and stepped over beside him. Her breasts accidentally grazed his arm. His body tensed. When he turned to her and gave her a wry smile, she took a small step back, giving them both more distance. Her face flushed as a gust of wind blew through the barn, causing her hair to blow in the breeze. He inhaled her sweet scent.
A horse slapped his hoof on the barn gate and caught Jason’s attention. He forced himself to focus on what he set out to do, not her scent or the fact she was still standing close.
“This here is where we are now.” He circled an area on the map. “We have to drive the horses fifty miles south. Through here”—Jason drew a squiggly line with a red ink pen—“is some very rocky and dangerous terrain. We have to go through a valley with a quarter of a mile wide river running through it. The drop-off is steep, and you can guarantee the water is freezing. Take your time through there. I’ll be close by if you need any help.”
“Thanks, but I think I can handle it.” She gave him a cocky smile.
“I’m sure you think you can, but this isn’t like the flatlands of Texas. This is Montana. The state name comes from the word mountain. The landscape isn’t the same.”
“Got it.” She slapped him on the shoulder and turned toward Quick Feet.
His heartburn was acting up again. Damn woman. He wouldn’t be comfortable until this ride was over, and she was back in the safety of her own home in Texas. Cold nights and long rides were hard enough, but dangerous women made it worse.
He folded the map back up.
“What? You aren’t going to give Mike the same little speech you gave me?” She rubbed the horse’s nose.
“Nope.” He gripped the paper tighter. It crumbled under his palm.
“That’s because I’m a girl isn’t it?” She turned fully back to him.
He let out a low growl. “Just be careful, okay? I’d hate to have to save you.”
“Save me?” She threw her hand to her chest. “That would be tragic,” she snickered, and then turned back to Quick Feet.
He wanted to shake her and try to knock some sense into her. Instead, he stomped toward the exit, only to get to the opening and stop.
“Forget something?” she asked.
“Actually, yes.” Jason saw Big Bill walk across the pasture and reluctantly remembered his orders. “You up for a little…” He hesitated, swallowed, his jaw tight. A tension headache ebbed at the back of his skull.
“A little what?”
“Fun. Are you up for a little fun tonight?” He ground out between clenched teeth.
“What did you have in mind, cowboy?”
Her crooning voice caused his mind to race. He took a deep breath. “A group of us ranch hands get together every once in a while and go down to Long Necks. Mike’s too young, but you’re not, and Big Bill insists I take you. So, what do you say?”
She needed to know it wasn’t his idea. If he had his way, she’d be spending the evening with him—and only him—not down at some hole in the wall bar where she’d be ogled by a bunch of drunks. Rick and Trevor had already started to drool over her, and he could only imagine what other assholes he was going to have to fight off before the night was over. Getting into a bar fight wasn’t his idea of a good time.
“It’s Thursday. You guys usually go out drinking on Thursdays?”
“If the mood strikes.”
“Sounds fun.” She gave him a half-smile. “I’m only sorry Big Bill had to talk you into it.”
She tossed her hair behind her shoulder and turned back to Quick Feet. The mare nudged her snout under Bobby Jo’s hands; the two women had dismissed him.
Jason cussed under his breath, turned on his heel and stalked off.
Chapter 4
A little after nine, the two of them loaded in his truck and drove to Long Necks. The short, five-mile trip seemed like an eternity to Jason. He couldn’t think of a thing to say. He struggled not to stare at Bobby Jo’s chest as it pushed against the restraints of the buttons on her white, sleeveless shirt. The thought of other men wondering what was underneath had made him grip the steering wheel tighter, his knuckles white.
“Don’t you think you should’ve put more clothes on?” he finally asked as they stood at the bar. All he’d been able to think about the last twenty minutes was the possibility of one of her buttons snapping off. He threw some money on the counter and handed her a beer.
“I’m more clothed than all these girls in here, Jason Haverty, and why do you care what I’m wearing?” She wrapped her lips around the mouth of the bottle and took a long sip. Her gaze never left his. Once she finished, she slowly licked her lips and took a step closer. “Good beer.”
She’d done it on purpose. When he glanced down, he was tempted to taste her, see if those lips left behind any beer residue. Instead, he pursed his. “I don’t care,” he shouted above the noise.
He skimmed her outfit once more before he looked away. He had to stop staring at her, or he was going to be in a bind. The sort of bind he’d have to go to the men’s room to fix. God knew he didn’t want to have to relieve himself in the men’s room at Long Necks. Hell, he tried not to go in there to piss if he could help it.
“Oh, I love this song,” she hollered as a Lady Antebellum song blasted through the speakers.
Trevor walked up to her and held out his hand. “Wanna dance?”
“I’d love to.”
Before she could take Trevor’s hand, Jason thrust his beer into the guy’s open palm, and escorted Bobby Jo onto the dance floor.
“That was rude,” she scolded.
He grabbed her hips and started a two-step. “Yeah, so?”
“Are you always like this?”
“Like what?”
“A butthead.”
She crinkled her brow, and he couldn’t help but laugh.
“What are you laughing at?”
“Did you just call me a butthead?” He twirled her around before she could answer.
“Yes, I did,” she said, slamming back into his chest.
“I haven’t been called a butthead since I was ten.” He placed his hands back on her hips, liking how nicely they fit into his palms. He wanted to slide his open palms lower down her curves, but he figured she might slap him.
Her posture tensed under his grasp, and she didn’t say another word until the song was over. “Thanks for the dance,” she mumbled, and walked back over to the group of men that had met them at the bar.
For the rest of the night, she didn’t speak to him unless it was absolutely necessary. He’d sat back silently and watched her flirt with damn near everyone that had a pair between their legs. Except him. She’d giggled, hugged, danced, and teased for the past three hours, and he’d had enough.
She was rubbing some biker dude’s bald head as he stood and walked toward her. Those hands should be on him, not some two hundred-fifty pound wannabe outlaw. His leather jacket was so tight he looked like a pig packed in casing ready to burst.
“Hey, Bobby Jo?” Jason raised his voice. “You told me you could ride anything. How about you and me have a little competition?”
“Don’t do it, Jason,” Rick hollered.
“No,” he said. “Let’s see if the little miss is as good as she says she is.”
“What did you have in mind?” Bobby Jo took her hand off the porker and placed it on her hip.
The big guy swiveled in his bar stool and stood. “Is this guy bothering you?” Fatso asked.
“It’s okay, Tiny.” Bobby Jo placed a hand on the guy’s shoulder. “I can handle this.” She turned back to Jason.
Tiny? There was nothing tiny about him. Jason shook his head. “That bull right there.” He pointed to the mechanical beast sitting on the other side of the bar. “If I win, you have to rub my back every night of the trail ride.”
“And if I win?” She batted her pretty blue eyes.
Jason stared at her, taking in the curves of her figure. “I’ll give you whatever you want.”
“Fine. I can handle that.” She moved closer, her breasts almost touching his chest. “If I win, you’ll have to start being nice to me.” She poked a finger into his chest.
“Oh, honey.” He bent down and whispered in her ear. “I can be as sweet as you please. Ladies first.” He purposely ran the back of his fingers down the bare skin on her arm.
She took a step back. “No, I insist.” She pointed to the bull. “Please, show me how it’s done.” Her voice was thick as honey and her skin just as smooth.
The sensations sent a shiver down his spine.
Jason tipped his hat. “Yes, ma’am.” He ran to the edge of the room and hopped on the bull. He saw money piled on the bar as some of his buddies began taking bets. He looked over to Bobby Jo and winked.
“Crank it up, Frank. Take her as high as she can go.”
“You got it.” The bar owner’s deep voice filled the space.
The bull bucked and swayed as Jason moved his body to the left, right, forward and backwards doing his best to stay on. His stomach dipped and flipped while his thighs screamed from the agony of squeezing to stay atop.
He anticipated the bull to go forward. He shifted his body to compensate, but instead, went ass over elbow, only lasting six seconds before his body made contact with the thin pads beneath him. He slammed his shoulder on the floor’s sorry excuse for a protected surface and winced. Bobby Jo was definitely going to be massaging that out. He stood, and the bar patrons let out a roar of hoots and hollers.
“Okay, Texas. Your turn.”
She passed her beer to him and mounted the bull.
“Sweetheart, are you sure about this?” Frank shouted over the noise.
Jason could hear the concern that leaked from his voice, but she grabbed the saddle and placed one hand in the air.
“Hit it, Frank.”
The bar grew quiet as everyone watched her buck and ride the power driven machine, her thighs tight around the bull’s girth. Jason watched as her muscles squeezed, and he wondered what those legs would feel like wrapped around him. Her hairpin fell loose, blonde strands cascading through the air giving her a tousled look. A look he imagined after they’d spent a night together wrapped in each other.
When her eight seconds were up, the bull stopped and everyone in the bar erupted with cheers. A group of guys Jason didn’t know hoisted her to their shoulders and carried her around the bar chanting, “Texas, Texas, Texas.”
Jason raised his hands to clap, but stopped midway. He had let the trance she’d put him in make him forget they were in competition against each other, and he’d been outdone by a girl.
Damn, his shoulder ached.
At one forty-five, last call was announced. The bar was closing, and Jason was bone tired and frustrated. He’d had damn near every woman in the bar flirt with him for the past hour except the one he wanted. A brunette from a couple of towns over had been hanging on to his every word like it was her lifeline.
He stood, arched his back and threw a twenty on the bar to pay for their beers. The small woman threw her arms around his neck, applying pressure to his bummed shoulder.
“Come home with me,” she whispered, and flicked her tongue in his ear.
Jason slid her arms down and away from his neck. “Sorry, Mary. Not tonight.”
“It’s Marty, you jerk.” She turned and stomped away.
He followed an incessant giggling and found Bobby Jo flirting with the group of out-of-town bikers.
“Come on, Texas,” Jason said. “Let’s get you home.” He pulled her up from the chair and wrapped an arm around her waist.
“Wait, I was having a good time,” she slurred.
Tiny stood and grabbed him by the shoulder. Jason’s knees nearly buckled under the pressure and the pain.
“I think you need to let go of the lady,” he growled.
Jason’s back stiffened, and he turned to face his opposition. The biker loomed over him by a couple feet, and outweighed him by a hundred pounds. The biker gang behind Tiny all stood and began cracking their knuckles. This was exactly what he’d been afraid of, getting into a fight to keep her safe.
Before Jason could say anything, Bobby Jo leaned over and barfed all over Tiny’s boots.
“Damn it,” the large man hollered, shaking his feet and sloshing vomit all over the floor. The group of men all backed up, afraid they would get puke on them as well.
“Still want her?” Jason asked, smiling.
“Bitch,” Tiny spat as he stomped toward the men’s room.
Jason entwined his fingers with hers and escorted Bobby Jo to his truck. He fastened her seatbelt around her and grabbed some napkins out of his glove box to lightly wipe her mouth.
“Is this you being nice to me?” she slurred and threw her head back on the seat.
He chuckled. “Something like that. You aren’t going to throw up again, are you?”
“Throw up? When did I do that?”
“My mistake.” Jason threw the napkins on the floorboard. “You all settled there, Texas?” he asked, tugging on her seatbelt one more time to make sure it was locked in place.
“Yep, snug as a rug in a bug. No, wait. That’s not right.”
Jason laughed and walked around the truck.
“Where are we going?” she asked as he cranked the ignition.
“Home.”
“Your home?”
“Is that where you want to go?” His gaze darted to her. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, her hair falling out of its hairpin again. She was a mess. One hot, good-looking mess.
“Yep. I’ve been imagining you wearing nothing but that big ol’ hat for days now.” She sl
uggishly reached over for his Stetson and placed it on her head.
“You’re drunk.”
“Yes, I am. You wanna take advantage of me?” She wiggled her eyebrows.
“Nope.”
“But, I just told you I’ve been thinking about you in nothing but your hat. Hey, where did it go?” She looked at his head and pointed. “It was there a second ago.”
“You’re wearing it.”
She reached to her head. “Oh yeah.”
She laughed and a snort escaped her mouth. He shook his head and pulled out of the parking lot. When the noise stopped, he looked over and noticed her head slumped against the window. His hat had fallen onto her lap, and her eyes were closed. A soft snore purred past her lips.
Five minutes later, he turned down the drive to the main house, but decided to turn left to his place instead. The hound dogs were sure to wake up the whole place if they were to enter the main house, and that was the last thing he wanted. Big Bill was a bear if his sleep was disturbed. That was a fight Jason would rather not have at two in the morning.
She was still snoring when he carried her inside the small cabin and laid her in his bed. After taking off her shoes and socks, he slid off her pants and pulled the covers over her. Her black lace thong taunted him, and he used every bit of self-control he had not to wake her and take her right then. She was beautiful lying there in his bed, and from her drunken confession, she’d been thinking about him as much as he’d been thinking about her.
Jason slipped out of his clothes and grabbed a cold shower.
Ten long, cold minutes later, he walked back into his bedroom as he towel-dried his hair. Bobby Jo had kicked the covers off herself, and her ass cheeks faced him. She had a small freckle on her left cheek that begged for his attention. He wanted to kiss every freckle on her body, playing connect the dots with his tongue.
He shook his head and threw the towel on the floor. He knew a gentleman would take the couch, but he didn’t have one. He could either sleep on the floor, or in the bed.
She had asked him to be nice.