Last of the Red-Hot Cowboys

by Tina Leonard

  “Yes!” they all exclaimed.

  “For the first time in your life,” Judy said, “you have hit the nail square on the head. You are the problem!”

  “Of your own making,” Steel said.

  Trace handed some money to Hattie for his coffee. Picked up his hat. “What you three don’t understand is that Ava’s made the right decision.”

  He walked out to find Callum.

  * * *

  “That’s it,” Judy said. “We’ve lost. She won’t be coming back. I underestimated Trace’s aversion to love.”

  “To be fair,” Steel said, “I think he would have carried on the way they were, if Ava had wanted to. It was Ava who chose to end it, babe.”

  Hattie nodded. “I’m afraid I have to agree with Steel. You said you were hiring three spirited, determined, independent women, and that’s exactly what you got.”

  Rory slid into the booth opposite them. “I heard Trace’s jaw crack from the other side of the Rolling Thunder. Did it help?”

  “Rattle his brains? Shake up some common sense?” Steel shook his head. “Nope. Because he was right in the first place. Ava wanted to move on.”

  Rory made room for Ann Chandler to push in next to him. “You all look so glum I can tell the plan’s died a tearful death.”

  “Well, I’ve got two girls,” Judy said. “I’ll just have to bring on a third. Luckily, I have some alternates, but I swear, this has taken me by surprise. I may have to sit down and do some better planning, or my rodeo is never going to get off the ground.”

  “Sure it will,” Ann said. “You know the best plans are flexible.”

  “Not if those Outlaws keeping running off my princesses.” Judy felt like she might cry, which she never, ever did. “Damn it, I really liked Ava. She was like the daughter I’ll never have.”

  They all stared at her. Steel hugged her, parked her up against him. She let him comfort her for a moment, then took a deep breath. “It’s not the first time I’ve been knocked off my horse, and it damn sure won’t be the last. I just backed the wrong couple, that’s all.” She brightened, considering her options. “There’s always Saint. He’s ripe for a fall. And little Michael is here now with Harper. I haven’t met Michael yet, but I just know there’s father material inside Declan.”

  Then again, the score was Judy 0, Outlaws 1.

  * * *

  Trace sent Callum on his way and trudged down to the pond with Prince, feeling low. Lower than low. It was quiet down here among the pines, and the soft breeze should have been comforting. Floating and staring at the sky thinking about nothing should have been tempting.

  He sat on the pier with a beer and stared at the water glistening in the hot sun.

  The whole thing sucked. Somehow his life had changed entirely when he wasn’t looking. His brothers were gone. Ava was gone. It was all wrong. “All I’ve got is you, dog.”

  Prince dove into the water, paddling, unconcerned about human problems. All that mattered was the cool pond and the lacy skirt he’d grabbed off one of the chairs. Trace sat up. “Come here, boy. Let me see what you’ve got there.”

  It was the white skirt Ava had been wearing—and inside that was the purple lace thong he’d kissed off her body. She must have left them down here when she’d changed—it had been dark that night. He hadn’t seen her the next morning when she and the girls had left, but it had been early. She’d probably put her swimsuit back on, maybe wrapped a towel around her. Come to think of it, he’d come up short a bath towel, figured it was in the dryer.

  Ava had planned to come back to retrieve her clothes at some point. She either hadn’t been too worried about them, knowing she’d see him again, or she truly hadn’t remembered after the girls’ night out party.

  After he’d made love to her until the early hours of the morning.

  “Good boy, Prince.” He stared at the short skirt and the purple lace, missing her like hell. The dog jumped back into the water, pleased at the praise.

  Trace sat on the pier thinking until he felt a sunburn coming on. Then he whistled for his dog to get out of the pond, and headed to the barn.

  She didn’t want to see him or talk to him, or she wouldn’t have sent Callum. Something had changed between that late night at the pond and now.

  The Postal Service could return her clothes to her.

  * * *

  A month later, Saint and Declan returned, roaring into the training center on brand-new motorcycles. Trace came out of the barn, annoyed by all the racket.

  “What the hell are those?” he demanded. “You’re going to spook the horses.”

  “What the hell is that scrub on your face?” Saint asked, getting off his bike with pride. “Isn’t she a beauty?” he asked, grinning at his new ride.

  “These are our midlife crises,” Declan said. “We’re the kings of the road. And what is that scruffy hair hanging from your chin? Has everything gone to hell since we’ve been gone?”

  Trace rubbed at his beard. “You got bikes, I got a beard. Deal with it and get to work.”

  He went back into the barn, feeling crusty, glad as heck his brothers had finally returned. But their exuberant homecoming shined a light on the funk he’d fallen into since Ava’d left.

  Saint came into the barn. “What’s up, brother? You look like you’ve died and gone to hell.”

  He felt like it sometimes. Trace grunted. “As you can see, this place is in fine shape.”

  “But you’re not.” Declan threw himself into the chair across from Trace’s desk, and the three of them lounged the way they always had in this office. “You look as if you’ve been working too hard.” Declan eyed him carefully. “Maybe we shouldn’t have dumped everything on you, dude.”

  “Yeah,” Saint said. “Take my bike and hit the road for a week. Or longer. Jesus. I can’t stand to see you like this.”

  Trace leaned back in his chair. “I’m fine.” He wasn’t. He couldn’t get Ava out of his mind, and every day it seemed as if he missed her more. He’d washed her clothes and mailed them on, defeated by losing even that souvenir of the happiest times he’d had in … ever.

  But a man had to respect her decision when a woman wanted a friendship to end.

  Oh, hell, who was he kidding. They hadn’t been friends.

  She’d given him a lot of sweetness, and she hadn’t wanted a casual relationship. Truthfully, he hadn’t, either.

  But he hadn’t known what he wanted. Hadn’t been prepared for Ava to blow into his life, changing him and forcing him to see things a new way.

  Absentmindedly, he opened an envelope on his desk that was addressed to him—not the training center. A check fell out, and a note.

  Trace,

  Here is the money Shorty says you paid for my training.

  Thanks for believing in me.

  Ava

  He stared at the note, and the check. Paid in full, so there would be no debt.

  She was never coming back.

  “I may take you up on that offer,” Trace said slowly. “You two can run this show for a while. I’ll leave Prince with Steel. That’ll ensure that Steel gets plenty of time with Judy—she adores my hound, and she and Steel can play house.” He smiled to himself, thinking that he owed Judy a little payback for the sexy bomb named Ava she’d tossed into his life. The more intimate arrangement with Steel would definitely put her into a bit of a tailspin.

  “Where will you go?” Declan asked.

  “Think I’ll drive the coast of California. I’ve never seen it from the back of a bike.”

  It was just what he needed. Maybe he could finally find some peace.

  * * *

  “Steel was right, Trace is feeling lower than a snake’s belly.” Saint watched his brother hit the road on his bike, headed to “no place special,” in Trace’s words. California, Oregon, maybe even Canada. It had been a long time since he’d been free, Trace had said, and he’d stuck his helmet on, the scruffy beard scruffier than ever, and waved goodbye
.

  “Good thing we came home when we did,” Declan said. “He might have turned into Grizzly Adams.”

  “You think he’ll ever pull his head out of his butt?”

  Declan shook his head, worried. “Trace isn’t the kind of man who dislodges his head easily.”

  “Agreed.”

  “Want to go mess up the Horsemen?” Saint asked. “I’m feeling like a rumble.”

  Declan nodded. “Might as well. Trace can’t be the only one of us who never pulls his head out.”

  * * *

  Judy stared at the plans for the onetime cotton barn she planned to retrofit into an arena for the rodeo she dreamed of. Prince sat at her side, adoring her as she petted him, something he was much better at than his owner, Judy thought. Prince knew how to suck up to ladies.

  Trace did not.

  Hence his dumb-ass problem.

  “Steel,” she said, going to find her sheriff as he cooked on the new grill she’d bought him for his birthday. It was a big-ass grill, she’d told him, an outdoor kitchen, for a big, strong man who needed a space of his own. “I’m going to have to bring on more girls, in spite of my misfire.”

  Steel nodded. “I figured you’d come to that conclusion. Cameron and Harper are coming along fine, now that they’re out at Rory’s. You might as well move to the second phase.”

  “It’s such a shame.” She sighed. “Trace was happier with Ava. I believe he was crazier about that girl than he realized.”

  “Can lead a horse to water. Can’t make him drink, no matter how sweet the water, babe. You did your best to get those boys on the road to happiness. If you can’t do it, no one can.”

  She wrapped her arms around him from behind. “I’m crazy about you. Did I ever tell you that?”

  “Nope.”

  “I do on Saturday nights.”

  He turned around and kissed her, and Judy moved into her sheriff’s arms, glad he was always there for her.

  * * *

  It was the moment she’d waited so long for, and Ava could hardly contain her excitement. This was it: her chance to prove herself, to realize her dream, and put away the ghosts of her past.

  Thanks to Trace.

  She put on her gear, the butterflies in her stomach hitting a fluttery fever pitch. She’d arrived early as instructed, didn’t mingle much with the cowboys. When Shorty waved her into the arena to go to work, she went without hesitation.

  The first rider came out, was bucked off, scrambled away while she and the other bullfighters guided the bull from the arena.

  Eight riders later, exhilaration flooded Ava. She could do this. No one took notice that she was a female; the audience couldn’t tell the difference under the ball cap that covered her slicked-back hair, and she worked just as hard as the men.

  It was going to be fine.

  Just like Trace had told her: She could do it.

  And she did.

  Better than that, she’d learned things she needed to know about herself, about how much it had destroyed her when her brother had gotten injured. Most bullfighters were excellent, absolutely dedicated to protecting cowboys.

  Liam had moved on after his injury. Now she could, too.

  She also understood why she and Trace could never have worked out. Maybe he’d been right: She needed something Hell couldn’t offer.

  She’d wanted Trace, and he hadn’t wanted that.

  That was also okay now. She felt at peace with everything that had been painful, thanks to what she’d learned here about herself.

  When the day was over, she went to Shorty, handed in her gear.

  He looked at her. “What’s this?”

  She took a deep breath. “Thank you for training me and believing in me.”

  He squinted at her. “You going somewhere? I’ve got plans for you. We’ve only just begun on what you’re capable of.”

  “I’m going, Shorty. But I didn’t know it until today.”

  “Kind of hits you like that, doesn’t it?”

  “What does?”

  Shorty smiled. “Love.”

  Ava took a deep breath. “Right between the eyes.”

  “Best kind there is,” Shorty said happily. “I’ve been married thirty-four years, and it still hits me between the eyes.”

  “Thanks, Shorty.” She hugged him, went to grab her stuff.

  Stopped in her tracks at the sight of Trace waiting outside, leaning against the wall, his legs crossed at the ankles, hat down low over a strong, clean-shaven face she knew so well. She glanced at the gleaming black motorcycle parked beside him with two helmets on the back. “Trace?”

  He looked up, his eyes meeting hers, hitting her the same way it always had: right between the eyes. “What are you doing here?”

  “I came to see Hell’s first female bullfighter. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”

  “How did you—” Shorty. Of course he would have told Trace that today was the big day. “I see.” She nodded. “Thanks for the support. And for believing in me. It meant … it meant a lot. I learned so much.” Her gaze stayed on his.

  He jerked his head toward the gleaming bike, and her heart sped up. “Check it out.”

  “What is it?” Ava asked.

  “I hear it’s a crisis resolver.”

  Her gaze returned to his. “Are you having a crisis?”

  Trace looked at her, his eyes so serious she felt like she might fall in. “I believe I am,” he said. “It started the day you walked into the Hell’s Outlaws Training Center, and it hasn’t let up since.”

  There wasn’t anything she could say to that. She completely understood—but that didn’t make it any easier. And it was nice of him to come and see her first day as a bullfighter, but seeing him had just opened up a heart she’d barely begun to heal.

  “How about a ride?”

  “Where to?”

  He captured her fingers, reminding Ava of how much she’d always loved his touch. Craved it.

  “How about to Hell?”

  She looked at him, wanting desperately to jump into his strong arms, held herself back. His dark eyes twinkled, that always-stray black lock of hair falling almost over his eyes, and she wanted nothing more than to say Hell, yes.

  “I know you’re not looking for a Saturday Night Special,” Trace said. “Then again, that’s not what I’m offering.”

  Her heart leaped with hope. She shoved it back down. There was only one way she was going to have her cowboy, and that was if she had all of him. “What are you offering?”

  He took her in his arms. “How about a Special every night of the week?”

  “Every night?” Being in his arms again felt so good she found herself trembling a little. Daring to hope. “Can you take it?”

  Trace smiled. “The question is, can I live without you?” He kissed her deeply, and Ava sighed as all the doubt of the past several months slipped away. “And the answer is, no, I can’t. Come back to Hell, Ava. It hasn’t been the same without you. I haven’t been the same without you,” he said, his voice strong and deep, sending shivers all over her. “Nothing, absolutely not one thing, is the same without your smile. I’m head over heels in love with you. As I told you, I’m no hero. But I’m a lot closer with you in my life.”

  She let him carry her to his motorcycle, reaching up to put her arms around his neck to kiss him, hold him close, falling happily into forever. Who would have ever thought she’d find a red-hot cowboy in Hell?

  And even better, a little slice of heaven.

  Epilogue

  “So now what?” Cameron asked Judy, surrounded by their usual group at Redfeathers on a Friday night—sans Ava and Trace, who, they’d heard through the grapevine, were taking an extended motorcycle ride back to Hell.

  One might even call it a honeymoon of sorts. Judy smiled at Cameron. “What do you mean, now what?”

  Cameron and Harper glanced at each other. Saint and Declan tried to look cool, as if they weren’t eating the girls up with th
eir eyes, doing a terrible job at not succeeding. Beside Judy, his arm around her shoulders, Steel chuckled.

  “They want what they came here for, Judy,” Steel said.

  Well, they weren’t getting it, not just yet, and not the way they thought they wanted it. Judy settled back in the booth, her gaze on her very talented, very promising young team, and eyed Saint and Declan again. The men were casual, hunky, hungry.

  She had chosen her team well.

  Saint was going to be a tough nut to crack. Declan might be the toughest nut of all. Trace had been the easy nut to shake from the tree. Declan and Saint claimed—from watching their buddy’s fall—that they got the game, that they knew that Judy had a plan which involved women and the defenseless bachelors of Hell. They said they wouldn’t be ripe for the picking, that they had zero interest in women beyond casual sex. Steel had thought that proclamation was a riot. Hot sexual attraction couldn’t solve everything, but it certainly helped guide the wary wolf into the fold, and Saint and Declan could eventually be guided there with the right sort of sexy encouragement.

  Judy sent a glance Steel’s way, and he laughed, his eyes crinkling as he practically read her mind. There was much left to do in Hell before the happy ending was written, but she had her sheriff, and they were a team.

  Team Hell.

  USA Today bestselling and award-winning author TINA LEONARD writes with humor, sexiness, and fun. With nearly three million books sold, she plans to keep writing the books readers enjoy. Her writing schedule keeps her very busy with independent heroines and the irresistible heroes who love them. You can visit Leonard online at www.tinaleonard.com, Pinterest.​com/​TinaLeonard1, and Twitter.​com/​Tina_​Leonard, and enjoy cover reveals on her fan page at Facebook.​com/​author​tinaleonard.

  The Editor’s Corner

  Most people look forward to summer vacations: warm, sunny days filled with nothing but reading on the agenda. Every year, I can’t wait to lie on the beach, lounge by the pool, or relax at a picnic at the park—always with a good book in my hands. If you’re looking for some hot reads, Loveswept has some great ones this month. But I warn you—it’s going to be a fiery summer.