“So let’s keep going.”
He raised both eyebrows. “You sure? It’s kinda late.”
“It’s not like either of us has to get up early. And besides, I’m not tired. Are you?”
“Nope.”
“Good. Since we’re both licking our wounds from a lie in one form or another, let’s play a game called Truth or Lie.”
Chase looked at her suspiciously. “What kinda game is that?”
“I tell you something about myself, and you try to figure out if it’s a lie or the truth. If it’s a lie and you call it as such, I drink. If you make a wrong call either way, you drink.”
“You aiming to get shitfaced tonight, Ava?”
She shrugged. “No one around here but us, Sundance. And since we’ve decided to be friends—” she emphasized the word with a hiss because it stung her pride this beautiful, rugged, manly man didn’t want to take her for a test ride, “—I think we should get to know each other better. I’ll even go first.”
“I don’t see how this is fair, you bein’ a professional actress and all,” Chase grumbled.
“You might as well have called me a professional liar, Chase.”
“If the stiletto fits…” He dodged her kick under the table. “You can’t deny bein’ an actress gives you an advantage.”
“Suck it up, cowboy. I’m betting your poker face is damn impressive when you’re in pain and showing the fans and your sponsors you’re feeling just fine.”
He sipped his beer. “Point taken. Okay, Hollywood, daze and confuse me with a page from the book of Ava.”
What to start with? “I posed nude early in my career and the photos caught the eye of a producer who ended up giving me my first acting job.”
Chase cocked his head, studying her. “Lie. You might’ve had nekkid pictures done, but my guess is no one has seen them.”
Ava couldn’t believe she’d lost the first question. “Busted. Your turn.”
He topped off her glass. “Before I ever got on a bull, I practiced my skills by ridin’ sheep.”
“I’ve heard the joke—Wyoming: where men are men and sheep are nervous. You’re trying to trip me up, McKay, so I’m gonna say…lie.”
“Nope. Truth. The rodeo event ‘mutton bustin’ is a kid’s precursor to bull and bronc ridin’. That’s where a lot of riders get their first taste of it.”
“Shoot. I’m gonna be hammered in no time flat.”
“I’ll remind you this was your idea. But I’m thinking we should alternate beer with whiskey.”
Ava held the shot glass between her palms. Maybe Chase wouldn’t notice if she didn’t drink it right away.
“Drink up so you can ask your question,” he drawled.
Dammit. She tossed the amber liquid into her mouth, suppressing a shudder. Time to put on her game face. “Truth or lie: my younger brother’s name is Axel because my mother heard ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ on the radio in the delivery room when she was in labor with him.”
Chase was quiet for a moment, then he laughed. “Easy. Lie. I doubt your mother has heard of the band Guns N’ Roses, let alone knows who the lead singer is.”
She nudged the full shot glass at him. “Bottoms up. Truth. My brother’s full name is Axel Rose Cooper Dumond. My mom heard the song, which is one of her all-time faves, in the throes of labor. And since my middle name is Rose, she believed it was a sign to name her baby boy Axel, after Axel Rose. FYI, Mom is a total rocker chick and a huge fan of ’80s metal bands.”
“I’ll be damned.” Chase drank his shot. “So, Ava Rose, what did your dad have to say about naming his son Axel?”
“Well, he is a mechanic, so it fits. But it was way better than the name he had picked out.”
“Which was?”
“Festus Merle.”
Chase frowned. “Is that true?”
“You tell me,” Ava challenged. “Or are you afraid you’ll have to drink again?”
A cocky smile spread across Chase’s face and heat curled in her belly. Oh, she so didn’t want to be just friends with this beautiful man. She wanted to taste that smirk on his lips. Suck the whisky from his tongue. And when he laughed? She could almost picture her head on his chest as she listened to that deep rumble.
“I ain’t afraid because I call bullshit on that one too.”
Ava splashed beer in his glass. “Have another. Because it’s one hundred percent true. My dad wanted the name Marshall Dillon Dumond. Since my mother vetoes his first suggestion on anything, he came up with Festus Merle, knowing she’d be horrified. Then when he sprang Marshall Dillon on her, she’d agree it was much better and he’d get his way.”
“Your dad is a big Gunsmoke fan?”
“Yes. We watched westerns every day after school.”
“Your parents don’t sound at all like I’d pictured them.”
“How did you picture them?”
He stretched out in his chair. “Like the rest of them rich, slick, skinny plastic people on TV who live in California. No offense.”
“I’ll admit I didn’t want for much growing up, but they kept a close eye on my brother and me. My dad is proud to be blue collar and refused to let us turn into rich-kid brats.” She sipped her water. “What are your parents like?”
“My dad’s a rancher, my mom’s a ranch wife. They’ve been married a long time. But they almost didn’t get married at all.”
“Really? What happened?”
“My mom’s dad was a preacher and didn’t want his daughter runnin’ around with one of them ‘wild McKay boys’ so he packed up their whole family and moved them from Wyoming.”
“Seriously?”
Chase smirked. “You tell me. Or are you afraid you’ll have to drink again?”
Fifty-fifty chance. She studied his face. Too impassive. The last thing he’d told her had been the truth, so this one had to be… “Lie. I’ll bet your mom and dad were high school sweethearts and haven’t been apart since they met.”
“Wrong. Drink up.”
She sighed and swallowed the beer in one gulp. “Okay. Now tell me the whole story.”
“Evidently my grandfather thought my dad’s family was a bunch of immoral heathens. He sent my mom away to a private Christian high school in Colorado when it looked like my mom and dad were getting too serious. As soon as he found a replacement preacher for his parish in Hulett, they were long gone.”
“So how did your mom and dad get back together?”
“According to my dad, they’d lost contact and she just showed up in Sundance one day, four years later. He took one look at her and knew why he hadn’t settled down. They were married within the week.”
“That’s so romantic.”
“Romantic ain’t the first word that comes to mind when I think of my folks. How about your parents?”
“My mom wrecked her car. She took it to a repair shop and my dad chewed her out for her casual disregard of such a beautiful piece of machinery. Sparks flew. Literally. Dad was welding. They disliked each other intensely, yet somehow they ended up sneaking off to Vegas a month later to get married. They’ve been together ever since.”
“See? That’s romantic.”
“Ever come close to dropping to one knee and popping the question?”
Chase shook his head.
“Why not?”
“Haven’t found a woman who doesn’t drive me crazy after two weeks.”
Ava lifted her eyebrows. “Your longest relationship has been two weeks?”
“Give or take.” He gazed at her from beneath the brim of his hat. “What about you? Been planning your wedding since you were a little girl?”
“I’m all for a secluded beach wedding with no one around except the officiant and my intended.”
“What’s your longest relationship?” he asked.
At least they’d slowed down on the shots. Her head was getting muzzy. “Jake, the bastard switch-hitter, and I were together for six months.”
“Together a
s in…living together?”
“No, he’d been in Vancouver for most the TV season.”
Chase frowned. “So you had no idea what he was doin’ when he was away from you?”
“Wasn’t like I didn’t see him. I flew to Vancouver or he came to LA. When he came back to LA, I was dealing with my show getting cancelled and didn’t think anything of him spending so much time with his new friend Decker.” She groaned. “Maybe the tabloids were right. How didn’t I see they were so into each other? I’m such an idiot.”
He curled his hand around hers. “Hey. Sometimes we see what we want to. Doesn’t make you an idiot, Ava. In my mind, it makes you a victim. He lied to you. Used you. Set you up. It sucks that it was played out in public. You’re handling it better than most would.”
“You really think so?”
“Yep.” Chase smiled and squeezed her hand, peering at her closely. “You still wanna play this game?”
For a second, she hoped he’d meant the game they were playing, pretending not to be wildly attracted to each other. But when he kept staring at her, she understood he was referring to the actual drinking game. “Ah. Sure. My turn, right?”
“Right.”
Okay. Think, Ava. Something…sexy. “In an episode of Miller’s Ridge, I shared a steamy onscreen kiss with my female costar.”
“I told you I don’t watch TV.”
“Means you have a fifty-fifty chance of guessing…wrong.” When she glanced up and saw his gaze focused on her lips, she knew he’d been imagining that girl-on-girl liplock. In full detail.
“True,” he said hoarsely.
“Sorry. A total lie.”
“Shit.” He was a bit slower knocking that one back. But when he looked at her again, he had a glimmer in his eye. “My turn. First time I rode a bull, my cup damn near pinched off my balls.”
She winced in sympathy. “Oh, I’ll bet that hurt.” Her eyes roamed his angular face, noticing the color spreading across his cheekbones. Talking about it embarrassed him. She permitted a small, smug smile. “True.”
His wicked grin appeared and he topped off her glass. “Lie. Bull riders don’t wear a cup.”
“Dammit. I am so not playing poker with you.” Ava sucked in a breath and held it while she slammed the whisky. She let out a stream of air that sounded like a hiss.
“Are you starting to feel the effects of your losing streak, Ava Rose?”
God she loved the husky way he drew out her whole name. “Losing streak? I believe we’re tied.” Or maybe Chase was right. Maybe she was losing because the shots were blurring together. Ava squinted at him. “Are you feeling the whisky at all? Or am I just a lightweight?”
“I’m feelin’ it.”
She tried really hard to concentrate on those tempting lips and smoky-blue bedroom eyes, but his handsome face kept swimming out of focus.
“Ava? You okay?”
Instead of admitting No, I am totally wasted, she offered him the charming smile she was known for. “Just thinking about the subject of lies.”
“What about it?”
“What’s the biggest lie you ever told?”
That I’m not gonna sleep with you.
Jesus. Where had that come from?
The booze, probably.
Ironic, they’d been talking about alcohol-fueled mistakes. No way would Chase let his whisky throw-down with her become an excuse to take her to bed.
Besides, Ava Cooper, TV star, was out of his league. Way out. The rich girl bombshell wouldn’t have looked at him twice if they hadn’t accidentally ended up hiding out at the same place. Plus, her feminine pride and sexual self-esteem had taken a blow because of her asshole gay ex-boyfriend, so naturally she wanted to prove her sex appeal to a man. Any man. He just happened to be convenient.
Chase didn’t like being convenient.
“Hey, cowboy, are you ignoring me because I’m drunk?” Ava clapped a hand over her mouth and giggled.
“I think we oughta call it a night, Hollywood.”
“Fine by me.” She stood. Swayed. And would’ve hit the floor if Chase had slower reflexes.
“Whoa, there. Not so fast.”
She inhaled deeply. Exhaled gustily. “You know today when you said I smelled great? Well, I’ll bet you smell great all over too.” She nuzzled the side of his head.
“Stop sniffing me. It tickles.”
“Where else are you ticklish?”
“My feet.”
Ava frowned. “Lie. I’ll bet you’re most ticklish behind your balls. I bet I can prove it.”
You’re on. Let’s test your theory right now.
No. No. No. No.
“Ah, Ava, we’re not playing the game anymore.”
“Oh. Shoot. Everything is spinning anyway. I just really need to go to sleep now. Nighty night.” She started down the hallway, stripping clothes as she bounced from wall to wall like a slow-moving pinball.
The seven—or was it eight?—shots hit him full force. The hallway became a tunnel-like funhouse mirror. Distorted. Sideways. He stretched his arms into a T and put one wobbly foot in front of the other.
He had to stop and grip the doorframe leading to the bedroom when he saw Ava sprawled face first on the mattress. Would you lookit that. He might be drunk, but he wasn’t fuckin’ blind.
The sweetest, tightest, most delectable ass he’d ever seen—and he’d seen more than his fair share of nice asses—just begging to be caressed. Kissed. Squeezing those perfectly round globes as he hiked her hips up and slid his cock inside her.
As he took another step, he tripped over a shoe, or his own damn feet, and went skidding across the carpet. The room spun as he rolled to his back, blinking at the ceiling.
The bed jiggled. Soft, fragrant strands of hair teased his chest and then an angel’s face was suspended above him.
“Cowboy? You all right?”
“Uh. Yeah.”
“Do you need help getting up?”
“No. I never need help getting it up. That’s my problem.” He laughed. Hard. No idea why because it wasn’t particularly funny, but Ava must’ve seen the humor because she busted a gut right along with him. After wiping the tears from his blurred vision, he mumbled, “I’m actually pretty comfy. I might just crash here tonight.”
“No. Come up on the bed. There’s room.”
Chase rolled to his knees. Clambered on the bed. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was Ava slurring, “Pillow fight!”
Chapter Six
“What in the hell is goin’ on here?”
Ava didn’t recognize the voice, the loud voice, reverberating in her skull like a jackhammer. She shifted on the mattress and felt the warm weight of something on her butt.
Turning her head required effort, but somehow she managed and found herself staring into Chase McKay’s handsome face. Wait a second. How had she ended up in bed with the sexy cowboy? When he’d reiterated that he wouldn’t sleep with her?
“Earth to Ava,” a feminine voice trilled.
Now that voice she recognized. Ginger.
Ava reached down and removed Chase’s hand from her ass and rolled onto her back. Bright sunlight from the window stabbed her retinas and she groaned.
Chase stirred. His leg repeatedly rubbed against hers, sending goose bumps dancing up her thighs.
“Chase. We have company.”
“Get rid of ’em. Christ, I have a headache.”
She poked him in the ribs until he turned over.
Kane was crouched by the bed, looking slightly amused. “Serves you right, Chase, for drinkin’ all my goddamned whisky.”
Chase jackknifed, and his hands flew up to cradle his head. “Ow. Fuck. Yell in my ear again, cuz, and I’ll give the whisky right back to you in another form.”
Kane laughed.
“So you’ve been here a day and you’re already sleeping together?”
Ava finally looked at Ginger. “No.”
Ginger arched an eyebrow.
<
br /> “I know what it looks like. But Chase and I are just friends. Right, McKay?”
“Yeah, but you and me ain’t never drinkin’ together again.”
Her answering laugh sent a spike of pain to her brain.
Chase scooted back to rest against the headboard and glared at Kane and Ginger. “Woulda been nice if you’d told us that we’d be roommates. Teenage Ninja Turtle over there almost killed me.”
“Oh please.” Ava yanked the sheet to her waist as she sat up. “Like it wasn’t ten kinds of scary for a city girl to be out in the middle of nowhere, woken up in the dead of night by a half-naked guy wearing a big hat and carrying a duffle bag that has ropes in it.”
“I sure as shootin’ didn’t have on my cowboy hat when I was headed for bed.”
“That’s not how I saw it.”
“I don’t know how you saw anything since your eyes were half-covered by a fancy piece of pink fluff.”
“I call bullshit on that. You’re just—”
Kane whistled shrilly and both Chase and Ava winced. “Enough. Don’t be blaming me or my wife, because we kept your secrets. We only realized this morning what’d happened, which is why we’re here.”
Ava looked at Chase. She didn’t like scruffy whiskers on men, but on him? A whole ’nother story. Gave him a harsher edge. Toned down his almost too-perfect good looks.
Why don’t you just write the man a fucking sonnet?
God. What was wrong with her? She never got moon-eyed over a guy. Never.
Chase frowned at her. “Why are you starin’ at me?”
Lie. “You’ve got a serious case of bedhead.”
“You oughta talk. Your hair looks like you stuck your hand in a bug zapper,” he shot back.
She reached for the ponytail holder on the nightstand and began to twist her unruly hair into a messy bun. “Better?”
But Chase’s eyes weren’t on her makeshift hairdo. His gaze was firmly glued to her breasts shifting beneath the tight tank top. He swallowed hard. But he didn’t look away.
Aha. So the cowboy was a breast man. She’d live in cleavage-enhancing shirts if it’d make him rethink his “just friends” mindset.
“Maybe we oughta get dressed,” Chase suggested, staring at her nipples. “In long sleeves. It appears to be cold in here.”
Chasin' Eight: Rough Riders, Book 12 Page 6