by Amie Stuart
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Cobblestone Press
www.cobblestone-press.com
Copyright ©2008 by Amie Stuart
First published in 2008
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NOTICE: This work is copyrighted. It is licensed only for use by the original purchaser. Making copies of this work or distributing it to any unauthorized person by any means, including without limit email, floppy disk, file transfer, paper print out, or any other method constitutes a violation of International copyright law and subjects the violator to severe fines or imprisonment.
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CONTENTS
Author Bio
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This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Ropers Rule
Copyright© 2008 Amie Stuart
ISBN: 978-1-60088-255-5
Cover Artist: Sable Grey
Editor: Barbara Louise
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced electronically or in print without written permission, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in reviews.
Cobblestone Press, LLC
www.cobblestone-press.com
I crossed the crowded Denny's restaurant, drawn in by the confident smile on his face and the sparkle in his deep blue eyes.
Alexander Lucero was a quiet man, dark-haired, dark-eyed, rough around the edges, and blessed with quick hands that could rope a calf's legs in the blink of an eye. Why would anyone want to rope a calf's legs? Well, for the challenge, of course ... man against animal, man against man, and all that. And the money.
Once upon a time, I'd asked my older brother about Alex, nervous Joe would discover my interest was more than friendly. He informed me that I had no business drooling after a man nine years older than myself—guess I hadn't been so subtle after all.
In the ensuing eight years I'd grown up, and my brother had retired from team roping. But not until after winning a slew of championships with Alex.
"Nice to see you again, Alex.” Ignoring the table's other two occupants, I gave him a brilliant smile and squeezed his outstretched hand. As I slid into the booth beside him, a warm tingle zinged up my arm, reminding me not to let the sight of my ex-boyfriend and Kylie Peterson sitting across from me ruin my weekend.
"How you been, Betsy?” Kylie's grin could only be called shit-eating.
So much for ignoring. I refused to let her goad me, especially in a restaurant full of rodeo cowboys.
I had my own agenda this weekend.
"Fine. And you? How you enjoying my leftovers?"
Beside me, Alex shook with laughter. I'd made the three-hour drive from Colorado at his invitation. What he was doing hanging around my ex-boyfriend—a second-class header who couldn't rope a calf if it stood still and posed pretty—I had no clue.
"Aw Betsy, be nice.” Across from me, Rick gave me a smile meant to charm. It didn't work. His dimples had long ago lost their appeal.
"Can I get a cup of coffee to go?” I hollered at a nearby waitress. The clatter and clang of the restaurant couldn't hide the fact we were being watched—with a lot of interest—by people at the nearby tables.
She nodded but never stopped as she sped by, a tray of dirty dishes in her hands. I'd be damned if I'd give in and make a scene. Kylie didn't deserve the attention. And Rick didn't deserve the ego stroke.
"Go on, Kylie.” Rick's request was followed by a hard nudge in her side. “Give us a minute.” Kylie left with a twitch of her ass and joined a group of cowgirls two booths away, throwing me a sly grin as she sat back down.
Bitch. I should have put my boot in her ass.
"I can't believe you replaced me with that trash,” I said with a shake of my head. So maybe I wasn't some size zero, bleached-blonde hard-ass like Kylie. That didn't mean I didn't have any assets. I had plenty, and most of them were up front—on my chest. And in my head, located under tastefully highlighted sable brown hair.
My elbow in Alex's ribs stopped his laughter. “And you Alex Lucero, you could have saved me a lot of time and trouble ... and gas if you'd told me Rick was going to be here."
"You still want this coffee?” The waitress hesitantly slid a tall Styrofoam cup in front of me, glancing around at the three of us.
"Yes, ma'am, and put it on his bill,” I said, nodding toward Alex. Fishing a couple of sugars from the bowl on the table, I shook them and ripped them open.
"He's my new team roping partner, Betsy."
I stared at Alex, the empty sugar packets drifting to the table. Outright shock warred with laughter.
"And I'm not dating her,” Rick said, his attention on his plate. “I'm not dating anyone.” Rick pushed his half-eaten hamburger away and slouched over the table, his eyes Bassett Hound sad.
"It's none of my business who you date, but that's tacky,” I said, referring to Kylie.
"You're a bitch, Betsy."
From beside me, Alex chided Rick.
"Go fuck yourself, rope boy.” I stood up, crammed the lid on my coffee, and headed for the nearest exit.
Outside, the warm night breeze blew the occasional strand of hair in my face but did nothing to cool my temper. I wiped my sticky fingers on my jeans then dug out my keys as I crossed the asphalt parking lot to my car. Check into the hotel, or go home?
Now I remembered why I'd sworn off rodeos—and cowboys—but Alex was a temptation I'd ignored long enough. And one I couldn't resist. Hence the reason I'd accepted the invite he'd offered up out of the blue. I unlocked the door to my Mustang then spun around as a voice penetrated my internal tirade.
"Hey.” Alex stood behind me his hands shoved in his pockets and a silly, crooked smile on his face teasing me, reminding me how badly I wanted to kiss him—for starters.
"Hey, yourself.” I shuffled back a few steps, suddenly embarrassed at my fit of temper. “Sorry for being such a brat and putting you in the middle of ... that.” I pointed a thumb toward the restaurant.
I'd come here with Alex on my mind. I was free. He was free. And I was real interested in testing the waters where he was concerned. To find out if he saw more than Joe Henley's little sister when he looked at me.
"Awful late to head back to Steamboat Springs tonight."
With a sigh, I studied him in the moonlight. I couldn't see his face under the brim of his hat, only his chiseled lips, now pursed in concern. I leaned against the car, arching my back the tiniest bit. Would he notice? What would he think of my 38D's encased in baby blue satin and hidden under a plain purple T-shirt?
If he noticed, he didn't give anything away.
"How the hell did you end up hooking up with an ass like him?” I asked with a slow shake of my head.
"I could ask you the same question, but he's not a bad guy ... really.” He shrugged, stepping closer until his thigh rested against mine. “The hotel screwed up my reservations, but I've got an extra bed if you want it.” His hand gently squeezing my arm made the nerves tickling my belly pick up their pace. No way in hell was I turning down that offer.
"You're not sharing with Rick?” I pulled my arm free and slid past him, settling in the bucket seat.
"He snores,” Alex announced before slamming my door. I chuckled to myself while watching him circle the car, his movements almost graceful.
"So how do you know I don't snore?"
"As much as Rick talks about you, if you snored, I would have known by now.” I caught him looking at me out of the corner of his eye. “And if he hadn't told on you, Joe would have."
"Like Joe would know if I snored.” Even thoug
h he couldn't see me, I rolled my eyes, ignoring the fact he'd been discussing me with Rick. Or rather, Rick had been discussing me with him.
During the short drive to the back of the hotel where his room was located, the deep, sexy scent of Alex's cologne filled the small car. I'd noticed it even in the restaurant. Something I couldn't quite place mingled with the smell of leather and man. I slid the Mustang between two oversized pickup trucks and killed the engine, conscious of the heat and silence between us.
"Smells like y'all got in early enough to give the horses a workout.” I reached for my purse from the back floorboard, all the while leaning as close to Alex as I dared.
"Guess I should have showered.” He slid out and grabbed my overnight bag from the back seat, ignoring—or totally missing—my overtures.
After growing up around horses, around rodeo, the smell of leather was a special kind of aphrodisiac that reminded me of lazy summers spent with my first boyfriend.
Inside, I collapsed on one of the queen-sized beds and quietly watched him. The hotel room was standard grade—maroon polyester bedspreads with huge ugly flowers, indoor/outdoor carpet in a coordinating shade of deep red, a mini-refrigerator and an oversized television. Alex tossed his hat on the table next to his rope and set my bag next to an oversized tote that was spilling an assortment of t-shirts.
"I'm gonna take a shower."
"Okay.” Can I take one with you? I returned his easy smile, then shamelessly enjoyed watching his rolling gait as he headed for the bathroom, clean clothes and a razor in hand. Gluteus Maximus, indeed.
My mind bounced from Alex to Rick and back again as I hustled around getting ready for bed. I couldn't believe Rick had been talking about me. What had he told Alex? Did it matter? Probably not.
Because, if I had my way, by the time the weekend was through, Alex Lucero would be mine.
Back in Steamboat Springs, I'd spent nearly an hour debating whether to bring sexy or non-sexy lingerie with me, only to bring both. Tonight, I opted for a non-sexy but cute pink tank and matching sleep pants. I spread my girly stuff all over the vanity, pulled my hair back in a scrunchie and quickly washed my face. On the other side of the door, the sound of the shower running and the visual of a naked Alex with only the hot water for company distracted me while I finished my nightly ritual.
So much for “no more cowboys.” I grinned to myself. That little vow had lasted all of ... oh ... four months. I dried my hands and picked up the bottle of cologne next to Alex's shaving kit, spun the lid off and sniffed. Hugo Boss, huh?
The sudden silence from the bathroom had me fumbling with the lid, and the smell of aftershave filled the little vanity area as some splashed on my fingers. Great!
I was in the middle of washing my hands when Alex stepped out of the bathroom on a cloud of steam, dressed in only a pair of sweat pants that rode low on his hips.
"Nice ‘do,” I said, referring to his inky black hair standing on end. Washboard abs rippled as he turned and hung his towel up.
With a quick sniff of his own and a wiggle of his eyebrows, he briskly rubbed a hand across his damp head, making matters worse.
"Sorry.” I gave him an apologetic smile and shrugged. No sense ignoring the obvious. He'd know by the smell I'd snooped.
"Do you approve?” He stepped near enough I could feel the heat of his body and pick up the clean, soapy scent of his shaving cream.
"Very much so.” I felt myself warming at the interest in his gaze, and heat pooled low in my belly as I turned to face him while I discreetly squeezed my thighs together. It did little to relieve the ache brought on by our close proximity and Alex's lack of clothing. “Why'd you invite me here?"
"The hotel's full."
"That's not what I meant,” I sang softly, tilting my head to the side.
"Rick talked about you so much, I couldn't believe he and I were talking about the same girl—Joe's little tag-a-long sister.” Grinning, he added, “I had to see for myself."
The hands that had wanted to skim across the warm, damp planes of his chest were now curled into fists at my sides, short nails digging into my palms as I shook my head and sighed dramatically. “So what do you think of Joe's little tag-a-long sister now?"
"I think Joe would kill me if he knew what I wanted to do to you.” Before his words fully sank in, he maneuvered his body so we were standing with only an inch to spare between us. The warm, knowing look in his eyes assured me the ball was in my court. If I wasn't interested, I could say no and climb in that queen-sized bed all by my lonesome, and that would be that.
Or I could refuse to let my anger get the better of me. Step a little closer, press my lips to his, slide my hand inside those sweat pants, and give myself the treat I'd come here for in the first place.
I chose the latter.
Alex's lips were smooth and warm on mine, his mouth moist, his tongue teasing, taunting, daring me to engage him. So I did. I slid my tongue against his, into his mouth, and kissed him until my nipples ached and every inch of me was on fire. We came apart long enough to fall on the nearest bed.
"Cute T-shirt,” he gasped as he yanked it over my head.
"Thanks.” I shoved my hand inside his sweats, eagerly wrapping my fingers around his long, stiff cock, still warm from the shower, thick and humming with life.
He pushed me away long enough to dig some condoms from his bag and toss them on the nightstand. We grinned at each other as he rejoined me on the bed, where I'd peeled my panties off and lay naked, letting the air and the cool slide of the polyester bedspread pucker my nipples. His return was a warmth I welcomed with open legs.
"Not yet.” He pressed his lips to the valley between my breasts.
Sweat brought on by need prickled my skin, and I squirmed impatiently.
"You always were in a hurry, little tag-a-long."
"I've waited for you for a long time."
"Then why were you with Rick?” he asked, pressing a kiss against the side of my breast. The tip puckered and turned a dark coral color.
"I said I waited, not pined."
"Fair enough.” He leaned over and drew my nipple into his mouth, his tongue soothingly soft against the hardened tip. My back arched of its own accord, and I wriggled underneath him, rubbing my legs against his and enjoying the rough, muscular feel of them against mine.
"Alex.” I buried my fingers in his damp hair, holding him in place and silently willing him to suck harder. To bite me.
As if he could read my mind, his teeth sank deeper and deeper into my nipple, causing little darts of pain to zip along my skin, pulling me higher off the bed, making me moan and grind my hips against him. He'd release one just long enough to let me catch my breath before giving the other nipple the same treatment. Then he was everywhere, and I was drowning in sensation. His lips and tongue skipped along my ribs to make mad, passionate love to my waist, his hands following while all I could do was writhe and moan underneath him. He wouldn't let me help, seemingly uninterested in having me reciprocate his attentions.
"Later.... there's plenty of time for that later,” he whispered.
By the time he rolled me onto my knees and slid a condom on, I would have willingly become his sex slave and told him so. He chuckled low and deep at the back of his throat and slid his cock inside me. With my head cushioned in his arms and his body covering mine, I felt as if I were in a tight, sensual bubble I never wanted to pop. He told me how good I felt, how long he'd waited, how I'd been worth it. Then his fingers were on my clit, strumming me, and his hips moved in lazy circles, all of it driving me insane. I had to bury my face in the pillow to stifle my screams as my orgasm careened through me, leaving me achy and breathless and more than a bit teary-eyed.
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Grouchy and tired. That's how I woke up after spending all night playing horizontal Bingo with Alex. He was still asleep, sprawled out across the bed, his chest slowly rising and falling as I eased from between the sheets and gathered some clean clothes from my
bag.
The couple next door had tried to bang holes in the wall with their headboard all night, and that sure hadn't helped. Apparently, they'd had the same thing on their ... er ... minds as we'd had on ours.
When I stepped out of the shower a while later, the smell of fresh coffee and the sight of Alex standing at the open door talking to someone greeted me. A two-foot beam of sunlight cut a path across the room and over my still-made bed.
Rick.
I threw my damp towel on the counter and crossed the room to the door, nudging Alex aside. Rick stood on the sidewalk dressed in starched jeans and a crisp white shirt, his blonde hair perfectly combed and his dimpled baby-face shaved ... well, baby smooth. He looked good, damn it, and I was wearing my old fuzzy robe—no makeup in sight. “What do you want?"
"I came to see if Alex wanted to have breakfast. What are you doing here?"
"Alex's better in bed than you.” Grinning, I slammed the door, flipped the lock and spun around to face my roommate, who shook his head and chuckled. He crossed his arms and pinned me to the door with his sharp black eyes.
"Am I really?"
"Do you even have to ask?"
"You do realize I have to rope with him this afternoon?"
I shrugged and scrunched up my face, unwilling to cop to how childish I'd just acted. “He's mediocre at best. Find yourself another team roping partner."
"Like who? You?” he challenged with what could only be called an arrogant quirk of his eyebrow.
"I don't have a horse and I'm rusty, or I'd say hell, yeah ... just to show you what I can do with a rope.” I gave him a sly grin, wondering what he'd do if I opened my robe and flashed him. If I was lucky, we'd miss breakfast.
The perpetual, wicked grin he wore slowly faded as I deliberately tightened the belt on my robe. The man caught on quick.
With one last pat on his bare chest, I went to dress and dry my hair. I looked up a little while later to find Alex leaning against the wall behind me, watching me tuck a pink gingham shirt into my jeans and zip them up.