by Scott, D. D.
“Well. Let’s finish sorting what’s left. And then…hmmm…where did you drop it?” Roxy took the box from the coffee table and opened the lid.
“In the kitchen,” Zayne said then decided he had to stop this. He’d asked her over for dancing and dinner, not to bail him out of his tomato tragedy. “Look. I’ll find it later. Don’t worry.”
He reached for the box, but Roxy pulled it back out of his reach.
“Do you want to wrestle me for this? Or are you going to help me find that damn card?” She said and smiled, without the slightest suggestion she intended to vacate her position. Placing the box on the floor between them, Roxy squeezed his hand. “I owe you. Remember?”
Zayne eased his hand out of her grasp even though he hated to lose the comfort he felt in their connection. “Yes. I guess you do. But if you find that card, your debts are paid.”
“So I don’t have to dance with you?” She asked him then lowered her head like a child who’d been scolded.
“No. I guess you don’t.” Zayne turned her face to his, steadying his fingers on the edge of her chin, forcing himself not to pull her closer to his eager mouth. “But I’d sure like it if you would.”
“In that case, you got yourself a partner.”
She turned the box upside down, just like she did him, spilling the contents onto the floor.
“Hey, speaking of the Baudlins, is that big, beefy blonde with the nice ass a Baudlin? I see him and a friend sometimes at The Neon Cowboy.”
“Yep. That’s Jack. The only son of Baudlin Brother’s Tomato King Harry Baudlin.” Zayne answered Roxy’s question, deciding to ignore her mention of Jack’s beefy ass.
She picked through the cards with a fury, plopping them into piles by hybrid name. She handled three cards for every one Zayne took.
The woman moved through life in a constant whirlwind. And Zayne was caught in the force left in her wake. She reminded him of his mom. Before his dad died, she possessed that same untamed spirit.
“Okay. So I have a nice-ass fetish and a shoe issue.” Roxy gave him a rueful grin. “You passed the ass test.”
“Nice to know…I think.”
Zayne reached for another stack of cards. Seeing the box dwindling to near empty and still no Brandywine card, his stomach bottomed-out like it did on a roller coaster cresting a nasty hill then plummeting to the depths of Hell.
Roxy took the last few cards and snapped the box lid shut. “Jack’s hot, though. Too bad he’s gay.”
“Gay? You sound like Damian. He thinks that too.” Zayne shook his head. How do people pick up on that?
“Well. He is. Trust me, Cowboy. I grew up in the fashion world. My gay-dar is perfectly tuned-in.”
She had him there, Zayne reckoned. If anyone should know, she should. Wait ‘til he told Damian her suspicion. He’d shit.
“So are the Baudlins in this contest?” Roxy finished sorting her cards, tapping her fingers impatiently while Zayne finished.
“Yep. Also with the Red Rocket Brandywine. Should be interesting.”
Placing the last card in the Orange Queen stack, Zayne pounded his fists against the floor. “Dammit. I just don’t get it. That card was here Sunday. Cody and I were reading it at the table. What happened to the bastard?”
• • •
“Did you search the kitchen really good? Under the furniture too?” Roxy got up and stretched out her sinful legs.
“Sort of. I guess. But maybe I’ll make a second sweep tonight before I go to bed.” Zayne stood and joined her, putting his hands on her hips, easing her against his groin.
He brushed his lips against her flushed cheeks. “Thank you for helping me. But what do you say we eat, do some dancing and forget the cards for the rest of the night?”
Feeling Roxy’s skin quiver under his fingers, Zayne’s body jumped with pleasure. At least he knew she rode the same chemical waves of attraction he surfed. Now if he could just prevent a wipe-out.
“Sounds good,” she whispered, her eyes darting quickly to his mouth.
“So do you.”
Zayne couldn’t take it anymore. He had to taste her. As she settled her body into his, complimenting each of his angles with her dangerously hot curves, she seemed willing to indulge his fantasies. And what he wouldn’t give to get inside those hot and naughty jeans. But he knew just getting a taste and feel of her wouldn’t squelch his desires only feed them into a lurid frenzy.
He lowered his mouth, testing the waters with a nip of her lower lip. The tiny groan she made almost undid his restraint. He dipped into her again, exploring the inside of her compliant mouth with his tongue. Taking long, thorough strides, he hopefully left her wanting more.
His hand moved up her back, hovering over the clasp of her bra. His body, wrought with a lust he could barely temper, fought with his cautious mind.
Her ample, fully aroused breasts pressed into his chest, firing him up hotter than he could hold back.
He slipped his hands underneath her form fitting shirt, liking how the fabric forced his skin to remain snug against her supple body. Undoing her bra, his fingertips explored the treasure troves of bountiful flesh he’d wanted to caress for what seemed like forever. Making her nipples harden beneath his touch, he rubbed himself against her, finding a rhythm in her response as he went stiff against her soft belly. When her hands lowered and latched onto his backside, he was almost a goner.
He took his mouth away from her while he still could and laced his fingers through her hair. Reflecting the rays of the setting sun streaming through the family room windows, the silky strands shimmered like gold dust. For all her spit-fire feistiness, Roxy had the glow of an angel. Not able to spot a halo, Zayne laughed to himself and almost out loud.
“That’s a silly grin, Cowboy,” Roxy said, her voice not more than a hoarse whisper.
“I’ll never tell why.” Zayne kissed her forehead and linked his fingers through hers. “Let’s eat before I devour you. We’ve got some dancin’ to do if we’re gonna school that crowd in three weeks.”
He helped her re-fasten her bra — hoping it wouldn’t be long ‘til he was undressing instead of redressing her — then led her to the kitchen. From the endorphins buzzing and snapping inside him, Zayne knew she was the woman he didn’t know he’d been waiting for.
Thank God for her damn shoe issue. Her misstep was turning out to be his wake-up call. He just hoped he could find the right answers to her happiness.
Maybe he stood a chance. His parents were certainly proof that coming at life from different places could work. He just wished his dad were still around to show him how to beat the odds.
Chapter Fourteen
C’mon, folks! Give a cowboy welcome to your dance instructors — the Neon Cowboy’s own dynamic duo, Zayne McDonald and Roxie Rae Vaughn.”
Processing the house band’s announcement, Roxy’s stomach turned Olympic-sized flips as she waited with Zayne at the edge of the dance floor. She tethered her inner acrobat with a thin rope of confidence.
The Saturday night crowd squealed a high-pitched ‘yee-ha.’ A thunder of boots stomped against the saloon’s hardwood floors.
For moral support, Roxy took one last look at their table of friends. Jules, fresh from Manhattan, positioned her fingers in her mouth, stretching the corners taught as if she were hailing a cab. Thank God the boots would drown-out her shrill catcall. Audrey, always the perfect lady, offered only her beautiful smile. Just the reinforcement Roxy needed.
Following the band’s cue, Zayne pressed his hand against the small of Roxy’s back, prodding her forward.
The crowd separated, creating a narrow path ending at an empty, spot lit circle. Dust particles trapped in the light canister’s beam made it seem to Roxy she was walking into a dream.
As her boots landed on the raised edge of the dance surface, her heart skipped a beat. Her legs moved like a wind-up toy. But when the drummer rolled his sticks on his snare, her pulse and gate steadied to his cadence.
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Her mind was stuck on hearing Zayne’s name said with hers through the speaker system. Being identified as a couple was a rush she hadn’t expected.
She cursed under her breath for getting so worked-up. This was ridiculous. Not only was she about to dance with a man she’d danced with before, but she was partnering with him as a payment plan. Not as a potential mate.
So what if he’d said he wanted to dance with her even if her debt was paid in full? He probably didn’t want to waste time finding another partner.
Evidently the hot moment they’d shared in Zayne’s family room was an anomaly. He hadn’t made another pass since. Rather he’d been a perfect gentleman, which sort of pissed her off. She just might be ready for more. Although that kiss was hot enough to jar her memory for a lifetime.
With each click of her heels, Roxy bargained with her fear, determined not to let it consume her. She knew what she was doing. She knew her abilities. Few could bootscoot in her league. She may have been closet honky-tonk in the Big Apple, but it was high time she stepped out in Tennessee.
Like they’d practiced, she took her place next to Zayne. The heat from the spotlight reheated her reservations to a slow boil. Her arms rested at her sides, limp like overcooked asparagus. She shifted her weight onto her bad ankle, hoping for pain so she felt something other than pulsating, panicked numbness. Her stomach muscles contracted tight while her nerves shot through her in archery goddess mode.
Waiting for the music to start, she stole a quick look at her partner, hoping to bolster her courage. She counted on the smug grin he wore when he danced. But when her eyes met Zayne’s, the sparked assuredness she’d expected had been replaced by a goofy daze. Not what she wanted or needed with only a few measures left before show time.
She thought about her predicament for give or take two seconds. Then…she kissed him.
Yep. Just like that. She threw him a curve smooch. No pretense. No hint of more to come. Just a luscious sweet peck. Square in the middle of his lips. Damn he tasted fine.
With her eyes wide open, shocked at her own brazen act, Roxy’s mind kicked her ass into gear to the beat of the band while her heart exploded like Independence Day fireworks.
The crowd cheered. At least they approved.
“Thanks. I needed that, partner,” Zayne said as he snapped out of his funk in time to make the first down beat.
He hooked his arm through hers and pulled her towards him, tipping his hat and giving her a sexy wink.
So much for always being in control of the situation, Roxy thought. Between Zayne’s wicked wink and his dance hardened, no-squats-left-behind legs gyrating to the count, Roxy was Jell-o.
As they made their first tour around the floor, their hips settled against each other. Roxy let herself go. She followed Zayne’s lead, feeling him more than the music. Her rhythm was dictated by the strength of his arms, not by the instruments stringing the song. Surrendering her reservations, she melted her body to his and found her perfect match.
Moving seamlessly through the step sequences they’d rehearsed, they syncopated as a couple besides showcasing their individual styles. Her ballroom grace blended-in stride with his rodeo cool. Performing two steps and attitude for every beat, they moved with ease from an 8-beat dance to a 6-beat waltz, two-stepping with the balanced perfection of a couple partnered for years. Handling the dance’s fast travel and multiple turns without a hitch, they glided across the floor in fluid form. Comfortable with the choreography. Comfortable with each other. Comfortable with their new life as they gave into its unique rhythm.
With Zayne at her side, Roxy had found a happy place. A safe place where she could be herself and abandon her pretenses, without giving a shit what the neighbors thought.
But could she follow this dream? Was she strong enough to disappoint her parents again? Was she comfortable enough with herself to accept Zayne into her life as more than her dance partner?
As he whisked her through their last turns, she laughed out loud causing him to crinkle his eyebrows in question.
Only a girl with her crazy karma could fall in love while two-steppin’ to Mickey Gilley’s ‘Stand By Me’, Roxy thought. There’d be hell to pay bringing a cowboy home as a potential suitor. She’d damn well better be sure Zayne McDonald was what she wanted.
As the song ended, Zayne leaned down and whispered in her ear. “You’re amazing, Rox. And beautiful. I’m the luckiest man in Tennessee.”
When his lips met hers, she believed him.
If she had the nerve to continue riding in this fascinating romantic rodeo, she’d lasso herself a cowboy.
They waltzed through the last two songs of their first set, bowing for what seemed like an eternity before walking arm-in-arm to the table where Audrey, Jules, Damian and Cody waited.
“Damn, girl,” Jules yelled over the crowd.
She bounced up from her chair and wrapped her slender arms around Roxy in a ferocious hug before nestling back into her seat next to Cody. “You two were on fire.”
Cody slid his tanned, farm-toned arm around Jules, resting his hand on her gym-sculpted shoulder. “Gotta agree with my hot date about that. Wow! Zayne, you’d better hang onto Roxy. She makes you look good.”
“Thanks, asshole.” Zayne threw a playful punch at Cody’s shoulder. “Why don’t you and your gutless wonder of a cousin take your dates for a spin? Or do you need a lesson first?”
“Leave me out of this,” Damian said, followed by a swallow of beer from a bottle too small for a man his size. “You know I don’t get on that floor much.”
The intro to Little Big Town’s ‘Bring It on Home’ hit the saloon’s speakers.
“Oh, I love this song,” Audrey put her pretty-as-porcelain hand on Damian’s forearm and batted her long lashes over her crystal blue eyes.
“I sure can’t disappoint a doll like you.” Damian stood and pushed back his chair. “C’mon, Cody. Get your ass moving. Jules wants to dance too.”
Damian winked at Jules, earning a conspirator more than up to the task.
Jules returned Damian’s mischief with a daring smile, her ruby red lipstick in perfect contrast to her high dollar dental work. “You bet I do. Off your ass, Cody. I’ve got some new moves I’d like to try.”
She hooked her arm through Cody’s, pulling him from his seat, leaving him scrambling to keep up with her.
“You two joining us?” Cody looked to Roxy with wide, cognac-colored eyes begging for moral support.
“I think we’ll take a rest ‘til our next set,” she said and cozied up to Zayne. “Have at it. Jules won’t bite…too hard anyway.”
Zayne pulled Roxy closer to him, taking her heart too. It was time to rethink her approach. No more would’ve, could’ve, should’ve. She was taking this cowboy off the circuit. She did, however, need to figure out how to get him onto her family’s A-list.
She sipped at the apple martini Audrey had ordered her. What a great night. The cowboy of her dreams. Good friends. And judging by the success of her match-up of Jules and Audrey with Zayne’s buddies, she had new posse potential.
Roxy looked at Zayne, pleased to find he was fixated on her. Her breath caught in her throat. She inhaled deeply, letting his spicy cologne permanently burn into her memory.
He took her hand and moved it across his mouth, sending her body into a sensual tizzy. ‘Down, girl.’ To keep from pouncing onto his lap, she coached herself like one of her dogs. Searching his intense eyes, Roxy took comfort imagining Zayne fighting similar urges.
“Excuse me for interrupting.”
Roxy heard the business-like tone of a male voice in front of their table but ignored it.
“Sorry to interrupt.” The man behind the voice evidently hadn’t accepted her dismissal.
The lean, sharp-suited, city slicker slid a card onto their table. “I’m Howard Nosebaum. From Creative Reality Agency. We’re working with the Bravo Network to create a country reality show like ABC’s Dancing with the Stars. You t
wo and The Neon Cowboy are exactly what we’re looking for.”
Nosebaum moved his neck around his fitted collar like a nervous turtle, as if he were shaking off the burden of his first move, preparing for pitch two.
Roxy — too shocked to respond right away — looked at Zayne needing confirmation she’d really heard what she’d swear she’d heard. Disbelief mixed with a reserved intrigue marked Zayne’s face. He picked up Nosebaum’s business card, running his fingers along the thick cardstock edges.
“The Bravo Network? You want us and my mother’s saloon for what exactly, Mr. —” Zayne searched the card. “Mr. Nosebaum.”
“May I sit down?” Nosebaum gestured to Damian’s empty chair.
“Sure. But we’re due back out there after this song.” Zayne leaned back, appearing interested, but not overly so.
Roxy tried to adopt Zayne’s smooth edge even though she desperately wanted to jump up, hug the man, and ask him where to sign. Adjusting her halter-top because fidgeting with her clothes always made her feel more in control, Roxy composed herself, squaring her plunging neckline with Mr. Nosebaum’s perfect posture.
She concentrated on feeding off Zayne’s quiet, understated power, a quality she found attractive but impossible to emulate. There was something about a man who made you aware he had strength without blatant exhibitions. And Zayne nailed that icy hot mix.
Mr. Nosebaum sat down and took an envelope out of the inside pocket of his suit jacket. “I’ll make this brief. Then if you’re interested, we can schedule a meeting in a day or two.”
Nice suit. Hand-tailored. Silk. Perfect tie. Roxy liked what she saw on Nosebaum. But she’d learned, thanks to her father’s similar tactics, not to be too quick trusting a man that polished on the surface. Although, she did take comfort in the fact Nosebaum seemed miserable in his high class get-up. Maybe he wasn’t the stuffed suit he couldn’t quite pull-off.