by Tina Leonard
Her eyes melted as she stared down at her soaked sheriff in the pool. “You’ll get a steak, Steel. There’s one with your name on it.”
“I wasn’t invited. Are you sure you have enough food?”
“Actually, you lasted ten minutes longer than I thought you would.”
Steel grinned. “Judy, you’re an angel.”
Trace would have given anything for Ava to look at him the way Judy looked at Steel. Trace glanced at her, noticing all of a sudden that the sheriff had done a really good job of soaking her red bikini. Her nipples were peaked, her brown legs shone with water drops, goose pimples had risen on her arms and across her belly, and Trace thought he was pretty much going to go up in flames.
There was nothing else he could do: He cannonballed.
* * *
“Judy, you’re going to have to share,” Steel said, sneaking up on her and stealing a kiss.
“Share what, handsome?”
“What the plan is. Why you’re trying to kill these boys.” He gestured toward the pool, where a rousing game of water volleyball had geared up. “You know these gentlemen can’t survive for long in the face of all this temptation.”
She laughed and smacked his hand lightly with the spatula. “Change the propane tank, and maybe I’ll tell you.”
The fun of having Steel around—besides the fact that she just plain adored him—was that he was such a gentleman. He was the last of an old breed of kind, courtly men, and he just flat owned her heart.
“Hell needed new blood, Steel.”
“If it was just that simple, darling, you would have settled for plain, old-fashioned matchmaking. There’s something else you’re cooking in that sexy little mind of yours, or you wouldn’t have worked up such a complicated ruse.” He grabbed the new propane tank and began to switch it out.
“It’s not a ruse. I really want my own team, Steel. I believe I have what it takes to take a team to a high level of national ability. Bullfighting is a sport that needs to be opened to women. This is my chance. Either way I go, I figure I have a real chance of putting Hell on the map.”
He sighed, kissed her hand. “What can I do to help you?”
“Nothing at all. I have to do this on my own, or people will say it’s a man’s team. But that big steak right there? The biggest one?” She kissed him. “That one has your name on it when you start grilling.”
He grinned, and she thought she’d never seen such a handsome man. “Whatever you want, darling. You take such good care of me.”
She wrapped her arms around him. “None of those young fellows in the pool have anything on you, Steel.”
“That’s right, beautiful. You just remember that.”
“I do. No one could ever—”
“Judy—”
“—cannonball like you do,” she said, and he laughed.
“Okay.” He kissed the top of her head. “I get the team thing. I support it. But what about all this bikini temptation you’ve laid out? You realize this town is going to get all stirred up?”
Judy grinned at the volleyball game, which was in full swing. “Yes, I do. And that’s the second step of the plan.”
“You’ve set this up to where those girls are a hands-off proposition.”
Judy laughed. “A man likes a challenge, Steel. You know that. It’s why you’re here.”
“Not really.” He looked hopeful. “What if my fellows can’t rise to the challenge? One of those ladies has got her eyes on a Horseman.”
Judy felt a momentary twinge of worry about her plan. She pushed it away. “I’d always put my money on an Outlaw. But if it doesn’t work out, then maybe those fellows of yours just didn’t have what it takes.”
But she hoped they did. She’d brought these three girls here with the best intentions, knowing very well that they were laying everything on the line, plus her reputation. She wanted the team to work out. In time, she was hoping to bring on a second team. Make Hell a really lively place, with a balance between men and women. Right now, with women being in short supply, a lady could pretty much work anything she wanted. Judy used this to her advantage on occasion—and so did Ivy.
But once the women were more plentiful—hopefully family-minded women—there’d be a healthier balance.
And then she planned to put Ivy and her crew out of business, once and for all. If any woman deserved a kick in the pants from Judy’s hot-pink boots, it was Ivy Peters.
And I’ve got just the team that’s going to help me do it.
* * *
“Can I drive you home, Ava?” Trace asked.
Ava wrapped her sarong around her swimsuit, thinking about the words Judy had spoken before the party.
Keep the Outlaws happy. They’re our ticket to success. And by all means, don’t fall for them. Men like that love a challenge. Steel would marry me in a heartbeat, but I know him better than he knows himself: Steel loves to sit over there in his rustic house and long for me. He thinks he wants marriage, but what he really wants is the chase. So six days a week I let him chase me—and one night a week, I let him win.
If Trace drove her home, she was almost certain he’d try to kiss her. There was no way she could resist him forever—she didn’t want to. Ava shivered, and Trace put a dry towel over her shoulders. “No. Thanks, though.”
He looked disappointed. Ava got a momentary twinge, wishing she could accept a ride in good conscience. But the waters were so deep in Hell that it was best to float on her raft a little while longer. No need to dive over the edge.
“So I’ll see you tomorrow night for Cameron’s big date,” Trace said.
“I don’t know about her big date,” Ava said. “It worries me.”
“It should,” Trace said cheerfully. “You’re either an Outlaw or a Horseman; there’s no straddling the sides. This town’s split by loyalties.” He ran a hand down her arm, tantalizing and slow. “You just stick with me, and you’ll be happy.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“That you don’t want to go thinking about taking a walk on the wild side.” He grinned, and her heart did a huge belly flop.
“You mean, don’t date across the county line.”
“That’s right,” Trace said cheerfully. “You’ll see why when your friend is keeping you up with her crying at night.”
“You really think Jake’s a bad person?”
He pulled her down beside him on a cushioned garden swing. “Look, beautiful. Did you ever date a man you wished you hadn’t?”
“No.”
He blinked. “Why the hell not?”
“Because I was busy.” She frowned. “What’s your point?”
He looked at her. “I thought every woman had a sad tale of a guy who broke her heart. We men usually hear about it endlessly, and it’s a drag, but we know it’s part of the dance. It’s a test to see how supportive we are.”
“Well, I’d say that’s totally chauvinistic of you, and no, my heart’s never been broken.”
“Haven’t you dated?”
“Of course I’ve dated. Are we playing Twenty Questions?”
“I just don’t understand how you can date and not experience a little heartache.”
He did seem totally confused, and he was just so sexy sitting next to her, trying to be friendly instead of an ass for a change, that she decided to relent. “I’m twenty-four. I was busy helping out my family and trying to get through school. Dating was something I weighed carefully. I’ve had two serious relationships, both of which ended with us remaining friendly after a time. Just normal relationships. Happy now, Mr. Nosy?”
He laughed. “Actually, I’m relieved. I thought maybe you were a closet nerd or something.”
“I do happen to consider myself a nerd, thanks, and there’s nothing closet about it. I’m all in the open.”
He looked at her, so closely that she wondered if he would try to kiss her. The moon was high and full, the night warm and breezy, and for a moment, Ava wished Trace would kiss her. His
last kiss had been memorable enough to stay on her mind almost constantly.
She glanced around for Judy and her friends, realizing at once that she was being led out of her safe comfort zone of practical decisions. Time to change the subject. “If you think Cameron’s making such a mistake, you should tell her.”
“Nope. Everybody’s life is their own. I never give advice.” He put his hands behind his head, clasping his fingers, utterly relaxed, sinfully sexy. No shirt, no shoes, no worries, just straight-up sexy appeal.
“You may think that, but Fallon called and asked Harper out today.”
“That’s very bad.” Trace looked concerned. “That’s Declan’s twin brother. Doesn’t Harper have a son?”
“He’s not here at the moment. Michael will arrive in a couple of weeks, once the team settles in, and if the team works out. Why?”
“She really doesn’t want to do that,” Trace said. “Fallon, I mean.”
“Look, you keep saying my friends shouldn’t go out with these guys, but you never say why. And none of you Outlaws seem inclined to ask anybody out, so don’t you think the girls have a right to do as they please?”
He looked at her, his brows rising. “Are you going to go out with one of them?”
“You weren’t listening,” Ava said. “I told you, easy-breezy dating isn’t my style. I’m not judging my friends; I don’t care what they do. I just take a lot longer to warm up to a situation.”
He muttered something that sounded like, “Tell me about it.”
“Anyway, I’ve got to go.” Ava stood, grabbing her purse and beach towel.
She so badly needed to resist him.
“So tomorrow night?” Trace asked, looking up at her.
He really was a handsome devil, and it was so hard not to say yes. His friends were all in the pool, playing. Saint was draped around a pool noodle, staring at Cameron, and Declan was drinking a beer and looked like he was undressing Harper with his eyes. Steel dragged Judy under the water just to hear her squeal, and Judy complied, coming up with a good loud one before leaping on Steel and taking him under.
“Yes. I’ll see you tomorrow night.”
“You’ll see me at six A.M. sharp for your lesson,” Trace said, “unless you’ve decided my training doesn’t suit you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged. “I’m aware that my way of training is a bit rigorous. Not everyone comes back to train under me after about a week.”
“I’m fine. Thanks for the warning, though.”
She called goodnight to Judy and her friends, and left the party. Getting in her truck, she saw Trace walking toward her. He tapped on the window, and she rolled it down.
“You forgot to annoy me?” Ava asked, looking up at him. He was broad-shouldered, too-handsome, and irritating.
“I’m going to follow you home.”
“That’s nice, but not necessary.”
“Yeah, it is. I’ll sleep better if I know you got home safely.”
“Are you having trouble sleeping?”
“Yes, if you must know.” He looked distinctly put out with her lack of enthusiasm for his chivalry.
“I’ll follow you to town. That way you’ll know I made it that far. It’ll be our experiment to see if you can follow instead of leading all the time.”
“At which point we’ll probably have an issue.”
Ava laughed. “You might want to work on that. I’m not used to all this alpha-male attitude outside the arena.”
She put the window up, noting the hint of a curve trying to steal onto his lips. Pulling down the drive, she didn’t bother to look back to see if he was following her or not.
All she wanted to do was train. Best the lines stay well drawn between them.
An older man, maybe a vagrant, was walking down the road near Judy’s house. Ava drove past him, thinking she’d seen him somewhere before, then realizing he’d spoken to her outside of Redfeathers the first night the Belles had been in town.
She thought it was kind of weird that he was out this way, a good ten minutes from town. He didn’t have a car that she could see.
Maybe he lived out here. Ava drove on, seeing Trace’s headlights in her rearview mirror—and for some reason, felt a whole lot less creeped out.
But then Trace’s headlights disappeared, his truck no longer behind hers. Ava slowed down, but Trace never reappeared. She shrugged and headed on to the bungalow, unlocked her door, let herself in, and changed out of the bikini. Took a shower, grabbed a glass of wine, and sat down with a book on equestrian riding she liked to study.
I wonder where Trace went.
It doesn’t matter. He’s one of those blow-with-the-wind kind of guys.
He could have at least called, the jerk.
On the other hand, he doesn’t owe me any explanations.
“Oh, my God, I am not arguing with myself about Trace Carter!” She hopped up, got out the vacuum, and began cleaning her room in the bungalow.
The pounding on her door erupted even over the sound of the seen-better-days vacuum. Shutting it off, she called, “Who is it?”
“It’s Saint!”
“That’s new,” Ava said to herself, and opened the door. “What’s up?”
“Trace wanted me to check on you.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Why?”
Saint shrugged. He glanced inside the room. “Everything all right in here?”
“Yes. What is it with you guys?” She glared at Saint. “You’re all way overprotective or something.”
He looked like a puppy whose toy had been taken away. “We just feel responsible for you ladies.”
Okay, he was being nice, and she was being a little bitchy. “Sorry. I’m just not used to being micromanaged.”
He nodded. “I know. But you might as well get used to it, now that Trace has taken you on as a project. Call one of us if you need anything.”
“Where is Mr. Micromanager, anyway?”
Saint turned around. “He had to go out to Ivy Peters’ place.”
“Oh.” She’d wondered why he’d disappeared. “Goodnight, Saint.”
He grinned. “See you tomorrow night. It promises to be a real barrel of monkeys.”
She shut the door. A barrel of monkeys.
I’m definitely not in Virginia anymore. I’m in a tiny town in Texas called Hell, and the man who was supposed to follow me home ditched to head out to a place that sounds like what passes for a whorehouse around here.
I’m giving this plan one more week, and then I’m pulling the rip cord.
Chapter Eight
Ivy Peters’ place was hopping, a crazy night, with out-of-towners loading up the joint with trucks and cars Trace didn’t recognize. He and the sheriff, Declan, and Saint had jumped back in their jeans and shorts when Steel had gotten the call, but Trace sure wished he was carrying. He felt a little comfort that the two deputies who’d met them at Ivy Peters’ Honky-tonk and Dive Bar (the dive-bar part was unofficial, but everyone called it that anyway) were carrying and looked official in their uniforms.
The Outlaws followed Steel, hanging close.
“This is a mess,” Steel said, shoving open the wide wooden double doors.
Trace had never seen the place so packed, then realized Ivy’s “girls” were just about nude. Ivy herself was dressed in a stunning beige gown, a la Marilyn Monroe, not leaving much to the imagination. This was not a good place to be, and Trace could understand why someone had phoned in a panicked call just because of the sheer overload in the parking lot.
“Steel.” Ivy floated over to the sheriff and glued herself to his side. “What a very pleasant surprise.”
“We got a call, Ivy.”
She laughed, patted his bicep. “You’re always getting calls. And yet, do you see anything we’re doing wrong?”
“Not yet.” The sheriff looked grim. “You need to cool this place down.”
“Why? Because Judy says so?” Ivy looked a
t him curiously. “I expect you to protect my rights against our crooked mayor, Sheriff. You know Judy can be spiteful and mean, even if you don’t admit it out loud.”
Trace took a deep breath, keeping a watchful eye on the girl on the counter doing a striptease. “You don’t have a permit to operate a club of this variety, Ivy.”
“I’m in the county,” she reminded him. “Why don’t you let Dee pour you a drink. And one for Saint and Declan, too. We’re a friendly place here, Sheriff.” She rested her head on Steel’s shoulder, and Trace knew Steel really didn’t have anything he could cite Ivy for. Ivy knew how to push the boundaries just enough to keep herself inside the law.
“No, thanks,” Trace told Dee, wishing Ivy hadn’t pushed his ex toward him. “I don’t need a drink.” He wasn’t about to be dragged away from Steel’s side—not with Ivy on the move. Judy would kill him—both of them—if Steel came back stinking of perfume.
Dee molded up against his side with a glass in her hand. “Whiskey, neat,” she said. “Just like you always liked it.”
He shook his head, wishing he could drink it. Trace didn’t even let his gaze wander below Dee’s chin. “I’m on duty.”
He realized two girls had also attached themselves to Saint and Declan. “No, no,” Trace said, shooing the girls away from his buddies, “we’re not here for that, ladies. Move along.”
He was priding himself on his strength and self-control until he realized Ivy was practically sucking the tongue out of Steel’s head, her arms wound around his neck.
“Holy shit! Cut that out!” Trace shoved Ivy away from the sheriff, who looked pretty damn poleaxed by the situation.
Not to mention he now wore red lipstick on his cheek, lips, and collar.
“Damn it, Ivy!” Trace glared at Ivy. “What the hell? We come out here to do you a service, keep a little law and order around here—”
He was doing fine on his righteous jag until he caught Steel’s worried gaze. Trace glanced behind him, saw that Dee had moved on to an easier target, her lips firmly attached to Saint’s as his buddy tried desperately to extract himself.
The dancer who’d been on the counter was now kissing the daylights out of Declan—who wasn’t pushing her away in the least. Camera phones went off like mad—and Trace realized they’d been dragged into an ambush.