“Besides winning the championship at Man of Steel last year?” Ryan scratched the tip of his chin. “I’d have to say Tacoma. On Bad Reputation. You covered all your bulls, and if not for that single low score of eighty, you woulda won.”
“But I didn’t win. It’s been a struggle. Almost like I forgot how to ride a goddamn bull. You have no idea how frustrating it’s been for me.” Chase blew out a slow breath. “Look, it’s not my intention to trick anyone. I just wanna get on as many bulls as I can. So I’m asking you, Ryan. Please don’t turn me in. My entire career depends on no one knowin’ it’s me.”
“Sheesh. I ain’t gonna snitch on ya.” He sighed. Dug the toe of his boot in the dirt. “I can’t imagine what it’d be like, bein’ you but having to pretend you’re someone else. Someone average. Someone less successful. Don’t it feel weird?”
“A little. But mostly it feels good to ride.”
“You looked better than you have in a long time.”
“Thanks. Think anyone else recognized my ridin’?”
“Maybe. Most folks will chalk up the similarities to coincidence, kinda like I did at first. ’Cause no one would ever believe Chase McKay would be competing in a PRCA rodeo in Broken Bow, Nebraska.”
Chase chuckled. “True. That’s why I’m keeping a low profile around other riders and with the public.”
“That’ll be hard to do since you won,” Ryan said.
The officials herded them back into the arena for the winners’ presentation.
The older guy who helped Ryan in the chute said, “Great ride, kid.” He offered his hand to Chase. “Taz Lashlee.”
“Good to meet you, Taz.”
“I ain’t seen you around the circuit.”
“Been off doin’ other stuff. Thought I’d give it a go again.” Chase folded his arms over his chest. “Sorry I missed your ride.”
“I was last out. So I covered my bull. Not pretty, like you done, but I’m good with finishing third.”
“How long you been rodeoin’?”
Taz’s smile was missing a few teeth, which wasn’t unusual in the world of rough stock riders. “Longer than is smart, that’s for damn sure. I got a whole lotta try in me for bein’ so long in the tooth.” He grinned again.
“Taz also rides bareback,” Ryan inserted. “And he’s being modest. He’s made it to the world finals three times. Twice in bareback and once in bull riding.”
“That’s awesome, Taz. Congrats,” Chase said. “Where’s home for you?”
“Here and there. I spend most my time on the road. Seen a lot of this great country. Met a lot of fine folks.”
Then Chase understood. Taz was part of a dying breed, men so obsessed with rodeo they’d given up anything resembling a normal life. The lure of a championship buckle proved too strong, and like an addict, Taz couldn’t separate himself from his fix of possible rodeo glory. Being a rodeo cowboy was all he knew. All he wanted to know. Chase remembered being at an event with Colby, and the late night conversation at the campground about old timers competing on the circuit. Both Colby and his traveling partner, Trevor Glanzer, swore they’d quit before they gave their entire lives up to the sport.
Being a new competitor at the time, Chase hadn’t understood ever giving up the thrill of riding. But the longer Chase stayed in the business, the clearer his future became. He never wanted to be that guy—the grizzled fifty- or sixty-something rodeo dog—living out of his truck, with nothing to show for his life except aches and pains and stories about life on the road.
So how many more good years did he have left? What would he do with his life? His future?
“Got awful quiet there,” Taz said. “You okay?”
Chase offered him a smile. “Yeah. I just realized I’ve gotta meet someone.”
“A female someone?” Taz asked, elbowing Ryan and winking lewdly.
“As a matter of fact, yes. Nice meeting you guys.”
“You gonna be ridin’ around here again?”
“I’ll be outta Nebraska until the two day event in Scottsbluff next weekend.”
Ryan’s face lit up. “Awesome! We’ll be there too.”
“See ya then.” Chase snagged his equipment bag and exited the contestant area. He’d no more than cleared the gate when three women surrounded him. The old Chase would’ve smiled charmingly, flirted outrageously, made plans with one or all of the buxom buckle bunnies. The new Chase kept his head down after the “Nice ride, cowboy” comments, and sidestepped them.
But the determined ladies followed him, chattering like crows, apparently not caring that he had someplace else to be. He looked up to see how far he was from the stands and saw her.
Ava.
Christ, she took his breath away.
Chase had about three seconds before the lovely Ava launched herself at him. He wrapped her in his arms and squeezed.
“What a great ride! You were amazing. You looked totally in control.”
He released her, but snuck in a quick peck on the mouth before he met her gaze. “You liked seeing me in control, huh?”
A soft blush stole across her cheeks. “I taped it, but the angle wasn’t that great, so I don’t know how it turned out.”
“I’m sure it’ll be great.” That’s when Chase noticed the hostility flowing from the buckle bunnies. He tugged Ava to his side before addressing the trio behind him. “Ladies. Have a great evening.” Then he led Ava away, stopping beneath the stands.
Ava pushed him against the concrete wall and got right in his face. “It’s always like that for you? Doesn’t matter if I shaved you bald, you grew an ugly-ass ZZ Top beard and dressed like Charlie Brown, women of all ages would still line up for a shot at you, wouldn’t they?”
Unsure how to answer, he squirmed.
Her eyes searched his.
“What?”
“And you kissed me again. Out of the blue.”
Closing his eyes, Chase let his head fall back against the wall. “You caught that, huh.” Great response, McKay, especially when you have no excuse.
Then Ava’s warm, soft lips pressed against his. He bit back a groan. Fought the urge to spin her around, pin her to the wall and kiss her until they couldn’t see straight.
She eased back and Chase opened his eyes.
Ava smirked. “Be warned. If you steal a kiss, so will I. Anything you do to me? I’ll do right back to you.”
Goddamn, she was hell on his good intentions. “Then no more kissing.”
Something like resignation flitted through her eyes. “We’re back on the road early tomorrow?”
“Yep. We’ve got one-nighters for the next week.”
“Sounds like you’re back in familiar territory.”
Chase stopped and stared at her. “Was that a shot at me?”
She lightly punched him in the arm. “Friends give each other shit all the time. Suck it up, cowboy. Let’s get you fed so you’re not so cranky.”
Chapter Twelve
An afternoon rodeo allowed the rare night off. He’d just slipped on his last clean pair of Cinch jeans, when two knocks preceded Ava opening the door and waltzing into the bathroom. Damn good thing he hadn’t been standing around in his skin.
“Hey, Chase, oh, sorry…”
She didn’t look particularly sorry as she stared at his chest. Before he backed off to grab his shirt, Ava traced a fresh bruise on the bottom curve of his rib cage. His skin beaded beneath her tender touch.
“Is this the only bruise you got today?” she asked softly.
“I guess. I didn’t really look.”
“So it doesn’t hurt?”
“Nope.”
Her beautiful, skeptical eyes connected with his.
Chase covered her hand with his on his stomach. “I’m not bein’ a tough guy to impress you, Ava. I get the shit beat outta me by bulls on a weekly basis, so I’ve usually got pain one place or another.” He stepped back. “You hungry?”
“Yes, and please tell me you’ve
got a real restaurant in mind and not just a stop at the Qwickie Mart for more sunflower seeds and licorice.”
He grinned. “There’s a glimpse of that snooty California girl, but as a matter of fact, I’ve heard about this supper club called Steak’n a Claim.”
“What, pray tell, is a supper club?”
“You eat on one side and there’s entertainment and a bar on the other side. Something you’d be interested in?”
“Aren’t you afraid we’ll be recognized?”
He probably deserved that, since he’d purposely made them keep a low profile this first week on the road. “If you don’t wanna go, Hollywood, just say so.”
Ava rose to her three-inch height advantage and crowded him. “I just asked a question, McKay, so don’t get snippy.”
“Men don’t get snippy. Men get pissy.”
She poked him in the chest. “Fine. Don’t get pissy.”
“Fine. So is that a yes or a no?”
“Yes. What am I supposed to wear?”
Her long legs were encased in tight jeans. She wore a fluttery top with silver and blue swirls that reminded him of the ocean. “You look great right now.”
Ava rolled her eyes. “I don’t have a bit of makeup on, my hair is in a clip and I’m wearing flip-flops.”
“You’re tryin’ not to call attention to yourself, remember? You get all fancied up, looking like the Hollywood star you are, and we’ll draw more notice.” He pushed up on his toes and kissed her forehead. “Besides, you don’t need none of that junk anyway. You always look beautiful.”
“Such sweet bullshit,” she mimicked. “How soon before you’re ready to leave?”
“As soon as I get my boots on.”
“I’ll change shoes too.”
Chase shoved his wallet in his back pocket, and maybe for the first time he’d gone out with a woman, he hadn’t double-checked his condom supply.
The place was jam-packed and they scored the last table. Pretty basic menu. Several different cuts and sizes of steak. Fried chicken. Pasta. Seafood. The house specialty was the chicken-fried buffalo steak, served with mashed potatoes, gravy and a cold broccoli salad.
“It all looks good. I’m too starved to pick one thing.”
“Trust me to order for you?” Chase asked.
Ava folded her menu and set her elbows on the table. “Please.”
The waitress dropped off two glasses of peach iced tea and Chase dumped in three packets of sugar.
“This is a cool place.”
“Pretty standard for a small Midwestern town. I try to find joints like this rather than eating at another chain restaurant when I’m on the road.”
She mumbled something as her focus followed someone’s movements across the room.
“See someone you know?” he teased.
“I see someone I’d like to know,” Ava purred. “Some fine, fine specimens of cowboy in here.”
Jealousy had Chase cranking his head to check out which man had caught her eye. “Where?”
“Never mind. He’s gone.”
“Maybe you’ll get lucky and run into him next door at the bar.” Jesus. What the hell had possessed him to say that? He glanced up to see Ava looking at him skeptically. He said, “What?”
“I realize we’re just friends, Sundance, but you have no problem with me slow dancing with another guy? Right in front of you?”
Chase hoped his shrug came across nonchalant.
“What if the sexual chemistry was off the charts and I wanted to go home with him?”
The thought of some random guy touching her in all the ways Chase imagined touching her made his teeth clench and his eyeballs pulse. He ripped open two more packets of sugar and angrily dumped them in his tea, violently stirring the liquid.
“That much sugar isn’t good for you.”
“Neither is an STD you might pick up from some loser bar rat.”
“Really? Chase’n Tail McKay is going there with me?”
He glanced up. “No. Sorry. Obviously I can’t tell you what to do, besides warning not to bring some strange dude back to the hotel room.”
“I don’t want to argue with you, but I’m not gonna lie either. While this road trip is fulfilling some of my needs, it’s not fulfilling them all.”
I can fulfill your every need and then some.
When Ava leaned across the table, Chase could see so far down her shirt he swore he caught a glimpse of nipple.
“I haven’t had sex in four months, Chase. I didn’t realize how much I missed something until I haven’t had it. It’s like my brain is on a continual loop—imagining rough hands stroking my skin, craving sweet and lazy kisses, or hot and hard kisses, needing an intense body-to-body connection.”
“What exactly are you tryin’ to do to me here?” he half-growled, hating—and loving—that she’d put such graphic images in his head.
“What? We’re friends. I’m sharing my frustrations with you.” Ava blinked innocently. “Oh wow. Sorry. For a second I forgot that you are captain of the USS Abstinence… Well, anyway, your lack-of-sex situation is self-imposed, mine is not. And I don’t think I should have to suffer for your choice.”
The food arrived. Chase watched Ava devour every bite, and tried to ignore the happy little humming moans that reminded him of sex.
Hell, everything about her made him think of sex.
Ava shoved aside her empty plate. “You’re right. It’ll be fun to hang out at the bar for a little while.”
Yippee. He was such an idiot. Now he’d spend the rest of the night watching her entice the local yokels.
“Excuse me?”
They both glanced at the young woman at the end of the table. “This might sound strange, but me’n my friends we were wondering if you are…”
Chase braced himself. Here it was. He should’ve known better than to show up in public place, even a rural dive, with the radiant Ava Cooper.
“Sure, I’d be happy to take your picture,” Ava said pulling Chase from his worrisome thoughts. “Isn’t it great that her friends took her out to celebrate her birthday?” Ava prompted Chase.
Hugely relieved, he offered the birthday girl a genuine smile. “While you’re taking pics, I’ll pay the bill.” Grabbing the check, he stood and tossed a ten on the table for a tip.
Ava rose from the table. Even with the two inches his dress boots added to his height, Ava towered over him by five inches. She bent forward slightly and put her mouth by his ear. “Fess up, cowboy. You were worried one of us had been recognized.”
Her hot breath sent a tingle straight to his dick. Resisting temptation of turning his head and pressing a kiss at the base of her neck, he sidestepped her. “See ya over there.”
Chase secured a high-topped table in the middle of the room with both the bar and the dance floor in view. One thing he’d noticed over the years; patrons in small town bars were a diverse mix of people. Old-timers mingled with the younger set. No one was trying to act hip, cool or aloof. Or wear trendy clothes, although single ladies had done themselves up in tight clothes and rhinestones for a night on the town.
He purposely sought out places like this, as a reminder real cowboy country existed. Where small town values, hard work and integrity were as prized as a college degree. Where boots, jeans and hats were worn for both everyday and formal attire. Where no one looked at you funny for ordering cheap beer because most folks were on a budget. Where your neighbor would make sure you got home safely if you imbibed a little too much.
Would Ava see that? Understand it? Find it quaint? Or rural?
Ava slid next to him with a husky, “Hi.”
“Hey. What would you like to drink?”
“I don’t know. I’ll wander up to the bar and see what they’ve got.”
He lifted a brow. “You sure you’re goin’ to the bar to look for a…drink?”
“Yes. But it wouldn’t hurt to check out my other options.”
“Ain’t a lot of options. It’s a
slow night.”
“So you’ve been screening me for me?” she asked doubtfully.
“A guy checking out other guys in a joint like this will get your ass thrown outta here faster than you can say ‘Brokeback’, trust me.”
Ava laughed.
He loved to hear her laugh. So sweetly melodic and yet completely unaffected.
The cocktail waitress stopped and Ava conferred with her in low tones before she ordered.
“What’d you decide on?”
A secretive smile bloomed and then she focused her attention elsewhere. “See that guy in the red plaid shirt? To your left? What do you think of him?”
“Him? Seriously? He’s too old for you.” Chase let his gaze wander, acting like he was playing along with the find-Ava-a-fuck-buddy game, when in all likelihood, he’d fuck up any man who laid a hand on her. “What about the dude in the bright blue shirt?”
“Eww. He’s got a ZZ Top beard. And I think there’s food in it.”
“You don’t like beards?”
“Only on Abraham Lincoln, Van Gogh and the aforementioned little ’ol band from Texas.”
“You coulda told me you hate the goatee I’m growin’,” he said a little shortly.
She reached over and tenderly stroked the bristly hair. “I didn’t say that. I like it. Your lips are perfectly framed and look so kissable. I wondered if it’d be soft or scratchy.”
Chase didn’t move. Hell, he didn’t breathe as her fingers repeatedly smoothed over his face, his whole face, not just the part with excess hair.
“I can’t believe how much it’s filled in. God. How many times a day do you have to shave?”
“When I’m on tour? Usually twice. Can’t stand how razor stubble feels on my face.”
“I’d like to feel your razor stubble on my face,” she murmured.
Maybe she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.
Or maybe she had.
The cocktail waitress floated a napkin on the table and placed a lowball glass in the center. “Took the bartender a minute to figure out how to make this.” She grinned. “Don’t get a lot of requests for that drink in here.”
When Ava opened her purse to pay, Chase put his hand over hers. He pulled money from his front shirt pocket and dropped it on the tray.
Chasin' Eight: Rough Riders, Book 12 Page 14