Burn for Cowboy (Stampede Sizzlers)

by Jenna Howard

  Burn for Cowboy

  By Jenna Howard

  Copyright ©Jenna Howard 2012

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental

  ISBN: 978-0-9916714-0-3

  Table of Contents

  Table of Contents

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Copyright

  Dedication

  Bio

  Stampede Sizzlers

  Dedication

  This one is for Patricia who first began my love affair with romance novels by giving me a list of authors. Then came the summer we decided we were going to write our own romance stories. Mine was a historical medieval novel full of purple prose and eye-rolling (mine). You showed me this yellow-brick road, Trish. Thank you for that. Sure…it’s now covered with lots of sex and everything but…whatever. (jbf)

  Acknowledgments

  First I’d like to thank the amazing Steena Holmes for issuing me an invitation to write a Stampede Sizzler story. Without her looking at me across the restaurant table and asking, I wouldn’t have suddenly found myself writing that weekend. She’s also really patient as she dealt with ALL those emails about the cover. Thanks, Steena. Without you Mike & Meri’s story would’ve been just a dusty, crappy file on the hard drive.

  I know amazing ladies. Can I just say that? Thanks to Alyssa Linn Palmer for having the guts to tackle my grammar. My apologies.

  Thanks to Daire St. Denis who helped make this story soooo much better and for reminding me who the story was about. You’re awesome, lady. And patient. I shall buy you a beverage the next time I see you.

  And finally the collective authors writing Stampede Sizzlers. This is so cool. I’m so glad I get to party with you!!!

  Chapter One

  Rain greeted the start of their holiday. Dismal grey clouds hovered above the city, threatening the parade that would kick off the Calgary Stampede tomorrow. Propping a shoulder against the hotel room wall, Mike Rossi stared at the woman gazing out the window.

  Shit, she was sad.

  She stood perfectly balanced on her left foot while her right rested on her calf. A lifetime of ballet was a wondrous thing, he thought. She rubbed her thigh. That was something she did when she was nervous or when her leg hurt. There was nothing to be nervous about, that he knew of, so he figured the flight had left her a little stiff.

  He moved behind her and ignored the water streaking down their window. Her skin was soft beneath his fingers, the muscles tight and knotted despite the ease of her pose. It had taken her a long time to stop flinching when he touched her leg. The scars and damaged tissue were as beautiful as her, because they meant she had lived. Gently, he massaged her thigh beneath the flimsy fabric of her skirt.

  When the muscle began to relax, he gentled his touch. Mike gazed down at the dainty woman. “You’re quiet,” he said, stroking her smooth skin.

  “I know,” Meri said. “Sorry.”

  He didn’t want her to apologize. He wanted her to stop being sad. Easing away from her, he gave her ass a sharp smack. She wobbled on her flamingo position and lowered her foot. “Throw on some jeans.”

  “Why?”

  “We’re going to the grounds.”

  When Meri faced him, her grey eyes were wide. “It’s raining.”

  “Perfect. No line ups.” He wasn’t entirely sure he’d stay sane if he watched her sad eyes all night and the Sneak-a-Peek might put a smile on her face.

  He was losing her.

  Opening his suitcase resting on the rack, he stared at his clothing. A little more every day, she was slipping away from him and it made him mental. Meredith Heaven didn’t seem to realize how vital she was to his life. Or maybe she did and that’s why she was pulling away from him.

  Desperate men did desperate things.

  That was why they were here. He had chosen Calgary as their holiday destination for many reasons. Yes, he was considering expanding his clientele base to involve rodeo cowboys, but despite everything, this was home.

  He grew up an hour north of the city on a farm filled with cows. Damn cows. He hated them. For Meri, though, he was willing to do anything, even come back here and show her the farm and his past.

  He was taking her to Stealth.

  Apparently Mike was very, very desperate.

  ****

  Despite the rain, there were quite a few people walking around the Stampede Grounds. Umbrellas and raincoats sheltered those outside. Mike carried the hotel umbrella, the metal tip tapping on the floor as they walked through the exhibition hall. Booths of all kind sold everything from art to clothing to books to horse trailers. Meri peeked at Mike through her lashes and felt the familiar extra thumps her heart gave whenever she looked at him. He took her breath away.

  Not because he was gorgeous. Gorgeous wasn’t a word someone would use to describe Michael Rossi. He was six feet of solid muscle.

  His face was square and angular, his nose broken one too many times from playing hockey. His body was made of thick muscles that not even his custom suits camouflaged. It wasn’t his looks that made her stop and stare all the time.

  It was that every inch, every pound of him, was laced with power. Power of the alpha male, power of the king of the castle, power of the dominant he could not contain if he tried.

  Mike did not try.

  The hand resting on the small of her back, his fingertips dipping under the waistband of her jeans, made her feel feminine, protected and wanted.

  She didn’t want to love him. Having her heart vulnerable to someone? She couldn’t go through that again. Meri fought the urge to rub her thigh as they stopped in front of a booth filled with stunning bronze statues. His hand caressed up her spine then was gone as he picked up a statue of a hockey player looking to go to battle. She left him to talk with the artist and she wondered if that would wind up in the offices of Rossi & Associates.

  Meri wandered over to a table covered in jewelry. Mike was a sports agent with a soft spot for hockey. It had been an ironic coincidence to find out he had briefly lived in her hometown of Granville, Saskatchewan. Like so many boys there he had attended the Magerin Hockey School with dreams of being a hockey player for an NHL team.

  It seemed that no matter how far she ran, she kept finding her past.

  Tell him the little voice whispered in her head. The voice had first made an appearance when she learned where he had gone to school. He was ten years older meaning he had been long gone when the accident happened. She trusted him with her body when he tied her up and did deliciously wicked things to her. She trusted him with her submission and knew he’d never hurt her. The deeper story behind her scars? The pain and heartache that still throbbed in the wounds? No, no.

  “Pretty.”

  Mike’s low voice sent a shiver down her spine as she fiddled with a bracelet of copper and silver strands braided together. She looked up and saw he was looking at her and not the bracelet. Smiling, she retu
rned to the cuff, slipping it on her wrist to admire it. A finger caressed along her skin and she went a little breathless watching him stroke both her and the metal. He picked up a matching bangle and eased it onto her other wrist.

  “Did you buy the bronze?”

  “Of course.” He looked at the jewelry with his intense dark eyes. He picked up a necklace of twisted copper then stood behind her. Meri expected to feel him settle it at her throat. Silly her, she thought as he reached for her right hand. The thin strands of copper brushed over her wrist and palm then along the same spots on her left hand. “Very pretty,” he murmured, fingers caressing up her arm and over her shoulder.

  Deep inside she went warm and liquid when his hand cupped under her chin and tilted her head back. He kissed her, a slow possessive kiss of his tongue sliding over hers. Her hands were trapped between their bodies in the cuffs he had made from two bracelets and a necklace.

  Unapologetically dominant, she thought as her fingers curled up to touch the chain. A soft sigh escaped into his mouth, feeling the delicate strands twist and wind between her wrists. She felt her worries and fears slip back into the shadows, as if they couldn’t stand up to his domineering personality. All from a simple touch, a little creative bondage in the middle of all the exhibitions.

  “Better?” His voice was low and soft, just for her instead of the designer blatantly eavesdropping.

  A little nod and his hands slid down her arms, easing the bangles off. Fingers brushed over hers and her heart thumped frantically from the soft touch. She watched him hand over his black credit card then turn his attention to removing the necklace.

  “Did you need a box?” the designer asked.

  Mike nodded as he slipped the bracelets back onto her wrists. This time the necklace was put in the right place. The receipt vanished into his pocket while he dropped the box into her purse. Reaching up, Meri touched her new necklace and remembered it between her wrists. Comforting and soothing when she felt so chaotic on the inside.

  Once more, Mike’s hand settled into its place above her ass.

  “You need a cowboy hat,” he said.

  “So do you.”

  “Hm,” he said without any enthusiasm. “You’ll look cute and sexy while I will look like I’m about to have a showdown at high noon with the Sheriff.”

  The comment made her grin.

  He guided them through the maze of laughter, shouts of random yahoos, popcorn scents and crying babies. He had a natural compass that always got them where they needed to go. He didn’t need to look at the little map of the exhibitions in the building. Within minutes he had found a booth selling cowboy hats and boots.

  She learned shortly after meeting Mike that he was a man who liked quality. He didn’t reach for the straw hats a couple of teenage girls were trying on. Mike picked up a soft grey hat and with the brim between his palms, he spun it as he studied her. When the crown was once again pointing to the ceiling, he set the hat on her head. A finger poked the brim. “That matches your eyes.”

  When he made a circle with his finger, she turned to look at the mirror mounted on a rack. She had always thought grey was such a dull color until Mike. This wasn’t a hat she’d have chosen. She probably would’ve picked up one of the cheap straw hats. “Okay, now you need one.”

  Walking away from him, she studied the hats, then Mike. He shook his head each time she stopped, a hatband spun around his index finger as he leaned against a table. She picked up one with a narrow band of what looked like snakeskin around the base of the crown. He shook his head again and she sauntered over to him. A grin made the lines at the corner of his eyes crinkle. Ugh, he was sexy.

  “If I’m going to cowboy up, so are you, Mr. Rossi.”

  “Not going to happen.”

  “We’ll see.” She reached up and settled the hat on his head. He was right. He looked like a villain from one of those old westerns. She loved it. She loved that he looked dark and dangerous instead of like the men who looked shiny and playing dress up around them. “Howdy, Black Bart.”

  “Ma’am.” He gave a little tug on the rim and caused the girls to giggle.

  Mike Rossi in a cowboy hat was the definition of sexy. “Oh Michael, you are so buying this hat.” All he needed was a lasso and she was a goner.

  “Am I hitting some buttons, Miss Heaven?”

  She nodded slowly while he reached up and removed his hat. He ducked under the brim of hers and slowly kissed her.

  “I can read your mind,” he whispered against her ear. “And, lucky girl, I brought rope.” His mouth captured her soft gasp, the kiss was deep and hot. The thought of him wearing that hat, his eyes hard with arousal and intent, and rope in his hands made her knees go a little weak. She grew wet in anticipation. Gripping the collar of his shirt, she rose up on her toes to get closer to him as the sounds and smells of the Stampede melted away. There was only Mike.

  A hand slid down her back and over her ass as he inched her forward between his legs. The hat he held bumped against her shoulders while his tongue conquered hers.

  “Let’s get you back to the hotel and tie you up.” He settled his hat in place then stood, withdrawing his credit card. “I’ll take them both. Ladies.”

  The girls giggled at his words, thinking he was still playing the movie villain.

  If they only knew.

  ****

  Mike left Meri sleeping in their bed. She looked beautiful, her body relaxed and sated. He dug out the phone, checked the time, shrugged then called.

  Time to do this.

  “Give me Erica.”

  “No. She’s mine. Fuck you.”

  “You’re such an asshole,” he heard a feminine voice say and it made him smile. The phone was grabbed. “What’s wrong?”

  “He’s a dickhead who calls at one in the morning,” Chance Bremner muttered in the background. “That’s what’s fucking wrong. Calling my wife at one? Dick. Head.”

  Mike grunted as he shut his eyes. “Your husband is a douche.”

  “You two need to have a fist fight.”

  “We did. I broke his tooth. It was satisfying. I’m happy to repeat the experience. Anytime.”

  “Stop picking on my husband. What’s wrong?” There was a little gasp. “Charlie? Is it Charlie?”

  No one had heard from Charlie in years and Mike feared his younger brother was dead. Like Joey. Fuck. His family had fractured apart that summer twenty years ago. Joey, the youngest, had died. Originally they had been told Joey’s death was accidental: falling off a ledge then drowning in the Bow River. Not according to Charlie. Charlie had said there had been nothing accidental about Joey’s fall. That he had done it by choice. The family still didn’t understand the reasons behind Joey’s suicide because there hadn’t seemed to be anything wrong. The remaining twin couldn’t provide the answers either.

  Charlie had been lost when his twin died. He had immersed himself in drugs. Then one day his parents had phoned. No one could find Charlie. Mike was still looking with the help of private investigators.

  “No. Sorry.” He sighed.

  “Is it your parents?”

  “The Rossi clan is fine, Erica.” He, however, was apparently fucking up yet another important relationship. His ex-wife was quiet on the other end of the phone.

  “Then what is wrong with Michael Rossi?”

  He hadn’t told Erica about Meredith. No real reason why, he just hadn’t. “I’ve been seeing someone,” he finally admitted. The silence continued. He didn’t want to hurt Erica again. Their marriage had ended painfully for both of them.

  He hadn’t talked to either Erica or Chance for years until one day Erica had shown up at his office. Until he had seen her standing there, looking nervous with a little baby bump, he hadn’t realized how much he had missed her in his life. A strange, yet necessary, friendship had built up over the past few years. He still hadn’t seen Chance, though there had been a few exchanges on the phone like now.

  Both of them were too
stubborn, too alpha, too dominant to suck it up and make the first move. But shit, he missed Chance. They had grown up together. Unlike Mike, Chance had loved growing up on his family farm. His dreams had kept him here.

  How ironic life was. Mike had left here, found his wife, introduced her to his best friend, played some sexy threesome games then lost her. Now Erica lived here.

  And for the first time in a long time, the three of them were in the same time zone. But neither of the Bremners knew it.

  “What’s she like?”

  “Beautiful. Sexy. She used to figure skate competitively.”

  “And submissive?”

  “Yes,” he said carefully, well aware this was his former sub he was talking too. “We’re here.”

  “Here? Like on the farm?”

  “In Calgary for the Stampede.”

  “You’re here. In Calgary. With your new girlfriend. Were you going to tell me at all? Not just about her but that you’re here?”

  He couldn’t lie to her. “No.”

  “Give me that,” the phone was taken from her. “My wife is crying, dickhead. What did you do?”

  “Fuck you.”

  “No. Fuck you, Mikey. Why is my wife crying?”

  Mike rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the carpet. “I’m in Calgary.”

  One minute of silence. Two. “Fuck. You.” And his former best friend hung up on him. Not quite how he saw this phone call going. He set the phone down and spun it again. It rang and he recognized the phone number. “You are an asshole,” Chance said as a greeting, his voice hard. “You told my wife this shit was behind you. Did you lie to her?”

  “No.”

  “But you’re still punishing her. Fuck you, Michael. Let it go. It’s over. It’s done. We all fucked up. Whatever. Stop giving my wife shit because you were an asshole.”

  He could practically see Chance pacing and jamming his finger in the air as if to poke Mike. “This isn’t about you. Or your wife, Chance.”

  “The hell it’s not. You are here, Michael. No one knows you’re here because when I saw your mom the other day she sure as hell didn’t mention you were visiting. I get that you hate this place but that’s your family. You have turned into a grade-A, cock sucking bastard. And now you’ve made my wife cry. So…yeah. This is about me and my wife.”