Taming a Texas Rascal (Bad Boy Ranch Book 6)

by Katie Lane

  After his shower, he ordered room service and got dressed. He had just sat down on the bed to tug on his boots when he noticed his wallet lying on the ground. A thought struck him. A thought that caused his heart to freeze in his chest.

  He prayed as he grabbed the wallet and flipped it open. “Please let it be gone. Please let it be gone.”

  The condom was still there.

  Chapter Two

  “Hey, Little Girl, you need some help carrying that saddle?”

  Maisy glanced at the cowboy sitting on the railing with his buddies. She really wanted to wipe the smirk off his face—off all their faces—with her fist. But that wouldn’t do anything but make her look even more childish. So she ignored the statement and grinned widely. “I think I can handle it. You just concentrate on your own saddle . . . and keeping in it. From what I hear, Rowdy, you didn’t even clear the gate your last ride before you were on your ass. While my last ride, I stayed on the full eight seconds.”

  The other cowboys laughed and one socked Rowdy in the arm. “She does have a point, Rowdy.”

  Rowdy’s face grew as red as his hair. “That’s because she’s riding in the women’s rodeo and everyone knows they don’t give those girls the best bucking horses. She wouldn’t stand a chance on the broncs we ride.”

  “I guess we’ll find out today,” she said with smug satisfaction.

  Rowdy’s eyes widened. “You’re ridin’ today?”

  “I sure am.” She shouldn’t be acting so cocky. It was a fluke she was getting to ride. Women didn’t usually get to compete in men’s professional rodeo events. But one of the sponsors of this rodeo had seen her ride in Waco and was impressed enough to give her the opportunity to ride here in Houston. This was her chance to prove she was just as good as any man. But until she did, she’d have to put up with male ego.

  “That’s bullshit,” Rowdy said. “Women don’t belong in a man’s sport. Go home, Little Girl, and ride your rocking horse.”

  Before she could tell him where he could stick a rocking horse, someone answered for her. “Fuck off, Rowdy.”

  Sawyer Dawson stepped up next to her. She didn’t pay much attention to the hitch in her breathing or the extra beat of her heart. Sawyer had always had that effect on her—more so now that she’d seen him naked and felt all those fine muscles pressed against her. Of course, it had all been a mistake. Or as he’d made perfectly clear, a bad decision he wanted to forget.

  His reaction to finding her in his shower had hurt much more than Rowdy saying women didn’t belong in rodeo. Rowdy had made an ignorant generalization. Sawyer’s disgusted reaction had been much more personal. And she still felt hurt about it. As hurt as she’d felt when he’d started avoiding her whenever they ran into each other. At one time, she’d thought they were friends. Sawyer was one of the few cowboys who treated her like an equal . . . just not a woman.

  “Mind your own business, Sawyer,” she said. “I don’t need anyone fighting my battles for me.”

  He completely ignored her and continued to glare at Rowdy. “Apologize to Maisy.”

  “Apologize?” Rowdy laughed. “Why would I apologize for stating the truth? You said yourself that you didn’t think women should be riding roughstock. Now suddenly you’ve changed your mind?” He paused, and his eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute, are you screwing Little Girl, Saw? I thought you liked your women to act like women.”

  Before Maisy could blink, Sawyer jerked Rowdy off the fence and shoved him up against the railing. “Don’t fuck with me, Rowdy. I’m not in the mood today. Now apologize or I’m going to kick your ass from here to Mexico.”

  Maisy wouldn’t mind seeing the two men beat each other senseless. But if she was caught in the middle of a fight, she could lose her chance to compete. And she wasn’t about to let two arrogant cowboys ruin this for her.

  Dropping her saddle, she hurried over and grabbed Sawyer’s arm. “Stop it, Sawyer, before you get us all kicked out.” When Sawyer didn’t release Rowdy, she grabbed his ear and pulled like her mama used to do her when she refused to pay attention. He didn’t seem to care about the pain, but he did care when she knocked his cowboy hat off. Most riders had lucky hats and were superstitious about them touching the ground before a ride. He let go of Rowdy’s shirt to catch it, but once he did, he didn’t relent.

  “Apologize to Maisy.”

  Rowdy held up his hands. “Fine. Sorry if I hurt your feelings, Little Girl. But I just don’t think women should waste anyone’s time by trying to ride broncs or bulls. And I have a twenty that says you won’t even last two seconds today.”

  Before she could take the bet, Sawyer turned to her. “Today? You’re riding today?”

  “I am if you don’t get me taken off the roster for starting a fist—” She didn’t get to finish before Sawyer picked up her saddle and grabbed her arm, pulling her over to the stock pens.

  “What has gotten into you?” She jerked away. “Are you drunk again? If you are, you might want to think about rehab. One night of tequila is one thing. Drowning in it every day is another.”

  “I’m not drunk.” He tossed her saddle over the railing of the stock pen. “As much as I hate to agree with Rowdy, I think you riding today is a bad idea.”

  “So he was right. You don’t think women belong in roughstock.”

  “Not for the reasons you think. Women can ride just as well as men—if they get the same opportunities. We both know women haven’t been given those opportunities. Your women’s bronc riding association is a great organization, but it just started. It doesn’t have the money professional rodeo has. Money that can get the best bucking horses in the business.“

  “Are you saying I’ve been riding pretty ponies, Sawyer Dawson?”

  “Of course not. I haven’t seen any of your rides. But I’m sure the horses aren’t tame by any means.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “They just don’t give the same quality ride as your broncs.”

  “Now don’t go getting your back up, Maisy. I’m just worried about you.”

  If she had a nickel for every person who was worried about her, she’d be filthy rich. “Don’t worry about me, rodeo bum. Worry about your ego when I beat your score.”

  He released his breath in a frustrated sigh. “Look, I didn’t come looking for a discussion about the gender inequalities of saddle bronc riding. I came to . . .” He glanced around before he leaned closer.

  He smelled good—something she had noticed that morning when she woke sprawled across his warm, naked chest with her face buried in the spot where his neck and shoulder meet. She had helped herself to a few good inhales of clean soap, saddle leather, and rodeo horse. It was a heady concoction. Even now she felt a little lightheaded as she breathed him in. It didn’t help that his eyes, the color of the grayish blue sky right before sunrise, seemed to stare right through her.

  “Are you on birth control?” he asked in a low whisper.

  She blinked, not sure she’d heard him right. “Excuse me?”

  “Birth control? Do you take the pill . . . or use something?”

  She finally recognized the look in his eyes. Fear. The truth behind the fear and his question hit her. He was terrified he had gotten her pregnant. It was a terrifying thought. She loved kids, but she certainly wasn’t ready for them. She had too many goals she wanted to achieve first. Becoming the best saddle bronc rider in the world was top on the list. She couldn’t reach that goal if she took time out to have kids. Which was why it was a good thing she didn’t have to worry about being pregnant.

  She and Sawyer hadn’t had sex. All they’d shared was one steamy kiss in the hotel elevator. When they got to his room, he’d passed out cold. Since she’d been a little drunk herself, she’d joined him in bed. Or maybe she’d just been hoping to finish what they’d started in the morning.

  Ever since first seeing him ride, she’d had a little crush on Sawyer Dawson. At Dixie and Lincoln’s wedding, the crush had turned into more of an infatuation. He’
d been charming and mouth-wateringly sexy in his black groomsman’s tuxedo. They had sat next to each other at the wedding party table and talked rodeo and flirted outrageously.

  She would’ve gone to bed with him that night if he hadn’t disappeared from the reception early. Since then, he’d avoided her. When she’d discovered him drinking tequila in the hotel bar, she thought it was her chance to fulfill her fantasy and get her infatuation with Sawyer out of her system. Even after his reaction at finding her in his shower, she still couldn’t help the attraction she felt for him. And it ticked her off. Not just at herself, but at him.

  “No,” she answered truthfully. “I’m not on birth control.” She patted him on the arm. “But don’t you fret. If I am pregnant, I won’t expect you to marry me. I’m a strong woman who can take care of Little Sawyer all by myself.” Sawyer looked like he was about to pass out while Maisy was thoroughly enjoying herself. “Or should we call him Junior? Of course, it could be a girl. I’ve always loved the name June for a girl. We could call her June Bug. June Bug Dawson. Are you okay, Sawyer? You don’t look so good.”

  He grabbed onto the fence. “I think I need to sit down.”

  Figuring he’d had about enough, Maisy started to tell him the truth when a man spoke behind her.

  “Excuse me. Are you Maisy Sweeney?”

  She turned and almost passed out on the spot when she saw one of her all-time favorite rodeo stars standing there.

  Cord Evans had been her hero since she was old enough to sit in a saddle. He was a six-time world all-around champion rodeo cowboy who had ridden broncs and bulls with a gracefulness that was still the envy of every rodeo cowboy . . . and cowgirl. He had been retired for years and now owned a successful boot company. Maisy would’ve loved to have a pair of his handmade boots, but she couldn’t afford them. And Cord knew her name. He knew her name. She really wanted to giggle like some teenage groupie and beg for an autograph, but instead she kept it together.

  “Y-Yes, sir.”

  A smile lit his handsome face as he held out a hand. “Cord Evans.” He glanced at the beautiful blond on his arm and his eyes lit up with love. “And this is my wife, Christie.”

  Maisy shook his hand. She was touching Cord Evans. The Cord Evans. She was never washing her hand again. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir.” She shook the woman’s hand. “And you, Mrs. Evans.”

  “Please, call me Christie,” the woman said graciously. “My husband was quite impressed after seeing you ride in Waco.”

  “Waco?” Maisy glanced at Cord as the truth hit. “So you were the sponsor who got me the chance to ride today?”

  Cord smiled. “Actually, you’ll have to thank our daughter, Carrie Anne, for that.”

  It took Maisy only a moment to place the name. “The cute little girl who asked for my autograph after the Waco rodeo? That’s your daughter? I figured she had a daddy in rodeo. She knows more about horses and rodeo than I do.”

  “At least she thinks she does,” Christie said. “Horses are her life and she was thrilled she got to see a real bronc-riding woman. Although she wasn’t happy when she found out that y’all don’t get to ride with the men. She harped about the injustice all the way home to Bliss and begged Cord to get things changed.” She smiled at her husband. “And he’ll do anything for his children and grandchildren. He spoils our son and grandson as much as he spoils Carrie Anne.”

  Cord didn’t look old enough to be a grandparent. And his wife certainly didn’t. “Well, I sure appreciate you giving me the opportunity, Mr. Evans. And I’d like to thank Carrie Anne as well. Is she here?”

  Cord nodded. “She’s in the bleachers with our good friend, Maybelline Marble. We’ll bring her by later. She can be pretty talkative and I didn’t want her to distract you before your ride.”

  “Maisy’s not riding.”

  All three of them turned to Sawyer. Before Maisy could speak up, Cord did.

  “Hey, Sawyer. I didn’t realize it was you beneath that Stetson.” It wasn’t surprising that Cord knew him. Sawyer had made a name for himself in rodeo.

  “Hi, Cord.” Sawyer nodded his head at Cord’s wife. “Christie. I’m sorry to interrupt your conversation, but I don’t think Maisy should ride today. It’s just too dangerous.”

  If Sawyer hadn’t tacked on those last three words, Maisy might’ve been able to keep her cool. But those words had always gotten her dander up. All through her childhood, she’d heard them repeated over and over again to keep her from doing things she wanted to do. And yet, that same warning hadn’t been issued to the boys her age. They were allowed to have all the fun they wanted while she had to stand on the sidelines and watch because “it’s just too dangerous” for a little girl.

  Well, she wasn’t a little girl anymore. And she was sick to death of the double standard.

  “Too dangerous?” She narrowed her eyes at Sawyer. “Well, if it’s so dangerous, maybe you better sit out your ride too. But that’s not going to happen, is it? Because what you meant was it’s too dangerous for a woman. And where do you get off butting your nose in where it doesn’t belong? Do you honestly think just because we slept together, you’re now in charge of me? We’re not living in the stone age. Women aren’t possessions. I’m tired of people who think that females can’t make their own decisions and take care of themselves.”

  She knew she was embarrassing herself in front of Cord Evans and his wife, but once she started, she couldn’t seem to shut up. All the pent up frustration she’d held in over the years, came gushing out like Old Faithful. She started to mimic all the opposition she’d come up against in her life.

  “’You don’t want that dirt bike for your birthday, honey. It’s just too dangerous. Let me buy you a pretty doll. You don’t want to play football, darlin’. It’s just too dangerous. You need to try out for softball or track. Bronc ridin’? It’s just too dangerous. You’ll break your pretty little neck.’”

  She poked Sawyer in the chest with her finger. “Well, let me tell you something, Sawyer Dawson. It’s my pretty little neck to break. I’ve worked my butt off to get where I am and I’m not going to let anyone ruin it for me. So stop being an arrogant, pompous jackass and go get ready for your ride. Which is exactly what I intended to do before you showed up acting all bossy and in charge. The only person in charge of me . . . ” She thumped her chest. “. . . is me!”

  Sawyer stared at her for a long moment before he turned and stomped off. When he was gone, she glanced at Cord and Christie. Cord looked thoroughly uncomfortable while Christie looked like she wanted to laugh. Maisy’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

  “I apologize for my outburst. I’ve always had trouble controlling my temper.”

  Christie bit back a smile. “There’s no need to apologize. Sometimes men need to be put in their place.” She looked at her husband. “She’s exactly the kind of woman I want representing my new boot line, Cord.” Maisy’s jaw dropped as Christie turned back to her. “I’ve been looking for a strong, determined, no-nonsense woman like you to be the face of Christie Evans boots and I think I’ve just found her. That’s if you’re interested.”

  “I’m interested,” Maisy croaked.

  Christie smiled. “Great. Now we better let you get ready for your ride. There will be plenty of time to talk later.” She gave her a hug. “Good luck.”

  After they left, Maisy felt like she was dreaming. Had she just been offered a sponsorship? All her hard work was finally paying off. She couldn’t even be mad at Sawyer anymore. If not for him, she wouldn’t have lost her temper and Christie might not have chosen her to represent her boots.

  She went to look for him so she could straighten everything out, but she didn’t end up finding him until it was his turn to ride. She climbed the railing and sat with the other cowboys to watch.

  Or maybe to drool.

  No one straddled a horse like Sawyer.

  There was something so sexy about the way he wiggled his fine butt into the leather of th
e saddle. The way he measured out just the right amount of rein and carefully wrapped it around his hand. The way he leaned down to the horse as if it was a beautiful woman beneath him and whispered sweet nothings into its ear.

  “There’s nothing to be scared of. I got you, baby. Just enjoy the ride.”

  Maisy’s breath caught at just the thought of those words being spoken to her. At just the thought of Sawyer’s hand tangled in her hair and his muscled thighs straddling her. Which was exactly what she’d hoped for when she’d gone back to his hotel room. But men like Sawyer never fell for women like Maisy. They fell for beautiful women who built up their egos and didn’t compete with them. Maisy would never be that type of woman. While Sawyer’s eight-second ride made her weak-kneed and breathless, it also left a burning fire in her gut to best his score and prove she was better.

  Unfortunately, she drew a horse named Maytag—a name that brought up images of kids playing tag in a field of may flowers. She couldn’t help but wonder if the draw had been fixed and she’d been given the tamest horse because she was a woman and they were worried about her getting hurt. It certainly seemed that way when one of the chute workers tried to convince her to wear a helmet, vest, and neck roll. She usually wore a vest and helmet, but with all the other cowboys watching intently, her ego made the decision not to.

  Sawyer wasn’t among the cowboys. After her little temper tantrum, she figured he’d decided to stay completely away from her.

  She figured wrong.

  When she climbed into the chute, he was there waiting. She tried to stay focused, but it was hard when he leaned in closer.

  “The reason he’s called Maytag is because after you get off him, you’ll feel like you’ve been put through a washing machine.” The image wasn’t quite as soothing as her previous one about kids and flowers. “He bucks rapidly. The key is to keep your spurs high and your chin down. He bucks with his head low so give yourself some added rein.”