by Becky McGraw
Stop thinking about him! Who cares what Ryan Easter thinks!
But maybe this job wasn’t for her. It was a far cry from rodeoing, or anything else she’d ever done in her life to date. “Maybe I just need to find a regular waitressing job.”
“And make eight dollars an hour?” Heather asked with a laugh, as she shoved the truck into gear. “This is the hottest club in town. The job won’t be there tomorrow. Girls are waiting in line to work there, because the tips are so good. Leon did me a favor by looking at you first.”
Heather was putting her neck on the line to help her. If Twyla backed out, or didn’t at least give it her all, her friend would be embarrassed. Maybe lose her own job. Twyla had agreed to do this, told Heather she wanted it. She couldn’t let that happen.
“Thank you for asking him,” she said.
“I want you to work there too. I think it will be fun. Just like old times.”
Not quite. The last time they worked together had been on the rodeo circuit as barrel racers. This was a whole different ball of wax. “Are you sure I can do this, Heather?”
“I’m positive. Trust me, okay?” her friend said casting her a bright smile.
Famous last words, Twyla thought, as she folded her arms across her newly enhanced bosom and huffed a sigh.
***
“Mama’s worried about Twyla. It’s your fault she’s gone, so go get her,” Zack said with a shove to Ryan’s shoulder.
“Stop pushing me, dude!” Ryan shouted, as he staggered back into his locker. “Like she told me, your sister is twenty-six-years old and if she wants to leave, she has every right.”
Twyla did have every right, but Ryan was damned worried too. He’d tried calling her fifty times since she left two weeks ago to try and talk some sense into her, but she wasn’t answering his calls. She evidently wasn’t answering her family’s calls either. That worried Ryan more.
“My sister belongs here with me so I can watch out for her. You know Twyla gets into trouble on her own.”
Twyla did have a habit of getting into trouble. She was stubborn and hardheaded, especially when she was mad. Ryan knew she was madder than a wet hen right now, and he had no idea how to fix it this time, or even if he could. He’d stepped over a line that he’d danced on with her for a very long time.
“Why the hell don’t you go after her then?” Ryan countered, as he wound his rigging up to shove it into his duffle bag. “We have a week’s break.”
“I have to go to see Dean about the rough stock. Remember we promised to help him train the bulls? We can’t just dump the stock out there and leave it all to him and Cord. We have a lot of money invested in that herd, and we have contracts.”
“I know we have contracts, Zack. Those bulls won’t be ready to ride until next year anyway. We have time.” Finding his sister should be more important to Zack, and he would probably make a helluva lot more headway convincing her to come back than Ryan could.
“I’m going out there. I promised, and I’m not letting him think we’re reneging on our end of the deal. And mama is going to string us both up, if we don’t get Twyla back here.”
“Twyla is pissed at me. She’s not going to listen to a word I have to say. You go after her and let me go out to check on the herd.”
Zack cocked his head to the side, and his eyebrow lifted. “You taken up riding bulls now?”
“Um, you know I haven’t.” Ryan rode broncs, and roped some as a fill-in heeler. He had tried bull riding exactly once and decided it wasn’t for him. Zack knew that, and so did he. But Ryan would rather go anywhere than to find Twyla in Dallas. He’d probably even get on the back of a bull and get his ass gored to avoid that. Dealing with her was a lot scarier than getting on the back of a two-thousand pound bull sometimes.
“Then you wouldn’t be much help out there, would you?” Zack said sarcastically. He slapped Ryan on the shoulder. “Go find my sister, so I don’t have to kick your ass.”
Ryan wasn’t afraid of Zack, but he didn’t want to fight with him either. This man was his brother, almost his salvation. After his father took off with that bimbo when he was fifteen, and his mother took up with the asshole she eventually married, Ryan was going to run away. Zack brought him home to the ranch, and he’d been part of the Taylor family ever since.
He owed the Taylor family a lot. And this situation was his own fault for not addressing the infatuation he knew Twyla nursed for him for so long. The same attraction he’d fought for years. It was time for them to bury the hatchet and make a new start. One that did not include the friction that had been sparking between them for so long. Honesty was the best policy for them to get back on even ground again. It was time for the talk that he’d put off for too long.
He glanced at Zack. “You have any idea where she went?”
“Mama said she’s with her friend Heather in Dallas. Remember that hot brunette who used to ride barrels with her?” Zack reached into his shirt pocket and pulled out a piece of paper. He shoved it into Ryan’s chest. “Here’s the address. Don’t come back without her,” he growled as he walked away.
Yeah, Ryan remembered that brunette. He remembered her too well. Better than he wanted to remember her. Knowing that Twyla was shacked up with her sent cold chills down his spine. That woman was definitely hot, but she was also wild as they came.
He was as glad to see the back of Heather when she left the circuit, as every other man in their circle was to see her walk in front of them. And for some reason, she and Twyla had connected as friends when she was a rider. The two women couldn’t be more different. She had led Twyla into all kind of mischief while she was touring with them. He and Zack had to work double-duty to get the women out of fixes of their own creation. Mostly with disgruntled cowboys who thought they were interested in them.
There was no telling what Twyla had gotten herself into if she was staying with Heather Morrison, but it looked like he was about to find out.
CHAPTER THREE
Ryan stopped his truck at the back of the packed parking lot of the bar. He just sat there a moment staring at the neon sign on the roof. The Crazy Cowgirl, with a curvy blonde cowgirl striking a sexy pose taunted him, making his stomach queasy.
Thank God the maintenance man at the apartment complex knew where Ryan could find Twyla and Heather. The leering smirk on the man’s face made Ryan want to knock it off, but he held himself in check, because he realized that man was the only way he was going to find out where the two women were. Once he heard the name of the bar, Ryan knew Twyla really had gone off the deep end. He had driven her to this extreme with his harsh words meant to protect himself. He’d hurt her, even though that had not been his intention.
Now that he saw the place, he was even more convinced that whatever awaited him behind that rough wooden door with the half-moon cutout was going to be bad. Very bad. And he was more than sure Zack was going to kill him—literally—not metaphorically when he found out. If Ryan couldn’t convince her to leave this place, he might as well find some place to hide. But he doubted there would be any place he could hide that Zack wouldn’t find him.
He had to convince her, before Zack found out.
Ryan pulled the door handle and opened the truck door. Even at the back of the parking lot, which was the only spot he could find, he was immediately assaulted by loud country music, mixed with loud male whoops and hollers. He shut the door and locked it then walked toward the entrance on leaden feet, his heart sinking lower with every step.
The song playing right then was pretty fucking appropriate, he thought, as he pushed through the crowd outside the door to grab the door handle. “Wild, Wild West,” he grumbled in time with the lyrics, as he yanked it open.
This place was as wild as any he’d been in, and that was saying something. The crowd inside was so thick, he had to shoulder his way through. The only open spot was near the wall by the bathroom. He stopped there a moment to breathe and search for Twyla. He had no idea how he would find
her. Over the music, and the roar of the crowd, he heard a man shout near the bar on the other side of the room. “Shake it, Daisy—I got a hundred for ya!” the obviously drunk older cowboy slurred.
The woman on the bar whipped her head around. Her layered white blonde hair swished, then settled on her shoulders. A sick knot formed in Ryan’s throat, then sank to his stomach as she grinned at the man, before whipping her black hat off of her head. She shook her head and her hair became a wild white mane around her beautiful, but heavily made up face. Turning her ass to the man, the dancer spread her legs wider then bent at the waist to shake her barely covered ass in the man’s face. He tilted his head back and stepped closer to get a good look.
The woman extended the hat back to him between her legs, and he dropped a bill into the hat. Before she could move away, he ran his hand up the inside of her calf to her knee. She stumbled away, and spun to put her boot on his forehead, shaking her finger at him. He reached for her calf again, and with a frown she shoved him with her foot. He staggered backward and a chorus of laughter followed.
Some man at the front of the crowd yelled, “Gut Shot!”
Several others joined in the chant, and before he knew what was happening, the dancer gave them a coy look as she tucked the hem of her shirt into her bra. She disappeared beneath the cowboy hats surrounding the bar, and Ryan blindly stumbled that way, hoping like hell that wasn’t Twyla. Even though the woman had the exact same willowy build, she certainly didn’t look like his best friend’s little sister.
The woman on that bar was wearing makeup, and she had bountiful breasts pushing over her low cut top. Twyla had smaller breasts, hated wearing makeup, and wouldn’t be caught dead in a getup like that. And Twyla did not dance like that woman was dancing. She was lucky to put one foot in front of the other to walk. It couldn’t be her. But he needed a closer look to be sure. He pushed his way to the front row of men around the bar.
“Line up!” a gruff male voice shouted. Ryan leaned around the man in front of him to see the speaker was a musclebound guy who looked to be a bouncer. He crossed his arms over his chest, and eyed the line of men warily. “Have your money ready and no touching!”
Ryan elbowed his way up to the front row and finally got a good view of what was going on. Twyla, he had no doubt it was her now, was laid out on the bar with her knees spread, and Heather was between her knees. The bartender put a shot on her bare belly, right above her navel and Twyla gasped when some of the brown liquor sloshed over onto her stomach. She moaned as it slid down into her navel. Ryan’s tongue burned to trace that trail, to sip that fiery liquid from the perfect little indention in her belly.
Heather grinned down at her and tossed her hair over her shoulder, then licked her lips dramatically. Loud pained groans erupted from the men. The bouncer collected bills from the eager men in the front row, counted them then gave her a nod. Excitement buzzed through the crowd like wildfire. Heather shoved Twyla’s knees apart forcefully, and loud whoops followed. Twyla’s body tensed and she grabbed the edge of the bar, watching the glass intently, as Heather slowly lowered her head toward her stomach.
Heather’s lips touched down right above the waistband of her shorts, and Twyla moaned loudly. Her breathing increased as Heather’s tongue dragged up from the waistband to her navel, and so did Ryan’s. Twyla turned her head to the side arching her back, as Heather circled her navel with her tongue. She then took a dip inside and flicked her tongue, pulling a shiver and mewl from Twyla. Electricity zipped down his spine right to the end of his dick. Ryan felt that damned tongue on his body, tasted the rich liquid on his own tongue. He was so damned hard, his zipper cut into his flesh. He didn’t want to like this, but dammit he did. Just like every other man in this bar. Ryan couldn’t help it, he finally had to adjust himself.
This was about the sexiest damned display he’d ever seen in his life. He’d never had two women, but the two putting on the show on that bar could definitely talk him into it. This wasn’t Twyla though. He didn’t even think she’d had sex before. Zack watched her too closely. Unless she’d had it after she left the rodeo. A lot could’ve happened in two weeks, a lot had happened, that was obvious. The woman faking an orgasm as Heather licked the trail up from her belly button to the shot glass was definitely not a virgin.
Hell, for all he knew she and Heather could be messing around. From the looks of it, that was entirely possible. His cock got painfully hard, and anger shot through him, disgust at himself, because that thought turned him on. The thought of watching them suck each other, kiss each other would be the ultimate fantasy to him. One he never realized he harbored. He slapped himself mentally though. Every man in this damned bar was having the same fantasy. Because these two women were creating that fantasy. Encouraging it. For money. Disgusting. He had to get her out of here. He needed to get out of here himself and fast.
Heather wrapped her full red-painted lips around the shot glass and tossed back her head, emptying the glass. She moved to her knees to swipe her arm across her mouth. Applause almost deafened him, as the bartender smiled and handed her the fistful of bills. Heather pushed up to her feet then gave Twyla a wink, as she reached a hand down to help her up.
Four other skimpily dressed dancers hopped up onto the bar and converged on them clapping their hands too. A new song started playing and they formed a chorus line of hot flesh, almost naked booties and heaving bosoms. The song choice left him with no doubt that this was about to get worse. Save A Horse Ride A Cowboy blared through the speakers behind the bar, as the dancers hopped, their bootheels clicked in tandem on the bar and they spun showing the crowd a line of world-class ass.
Twyla’s ass was one of those asses.
If Zack was here, Ryan knew he would already be dead, and Twyla would be over his shoulder being carried out of here. That is what he needed to do, carry her pretty little ass out of this bar and shake some sense into her. But getting to her wasn’t going to be easy. She was flanked by the big bouncer, and another mean-looking man who was smaller, but no less fierce. He was surveying the crowd just as intently as the bouncer, while the dancers started their routine of practiced rump shaking and hip twisting.
Twyla, to his surprise, kept up with them in perfect harmony. Ryan had danced with her before out of obligation at her parent’s anniversary party a few years back. His toes were just now recovering. It looked to him like she had found her rhythm now though. She was at the center of the group, and the center of attention. Most of the men there were watching her. He knew he sure was. How could any man in his right mind ignore those long legs, that pert little ass, and those perfect breasts pushing over her still tucked-up tank top?
She was the tallest of the group of women, her body the most toned, probably from all the riding she did. As far as Ryan was concerned, Twyla was the sexiest of the bunch by far. And she was definitely working that to her advantage with her exaggerated movements. Heather was good, but Twyla was definitely working it the best. Ryan hadn’t ever seen better, even in the many strip clubs he and Zack had frequented while they were on tour. And that pissed him off. Twyla Taylor was not a stripper, she was a fucking cowgirl. She should not be here doing this. He should not be letting her do this, or enjoying it.
That is what his stepfather would be doing, if he was here, and Ryan was definitely not that man. There could be a man just like Clarence James here in this crowd, a predator just waiting for an opening to hurt her. She should have better sense than this.
Ryan shoved the man who had edged his way in front of him aside. He scooted sideways a few feet to the right to stand at the bar in front of where Twyla was dancing. The long fringe on her boots mesmerized him as she stomped them on the bar and wiggled her ass. In his face.
His hands lifted on their own and his fingers flexed, wanting to feel that soft supple skin at the hem of her shorts. The bouncer shot him a hot look and Ryan realized what he was doing. He dropped them to his sides, and heaved a shuddering breath. At least nobod
y could touch her. That was something. But they could look all they wanted, and it irritated the hell out of him. He would love nothing more than moving down the line of men and punching each one of them in the nose.
He had to find some way to talk to her, or get her out of here. But that damned brute protecting the dancers would kick his ass, and he was sure the rough looking dude a little ways down the bar doing the same would help. Ryan wasn’t in the mood to get his ass kicked tonight, and he wasn’t going to wind up in jail. The only one he had to call to bail him out would be Zack. And then he’d be dead anyway. They’d both end up in jail because he wasn’t going down without a fight. That wouldn’t do either of them any good. Twyla would still be here shaking her ass for any man with a dollar in his hand.
The only option Ryan had was to stay here and watch out for her, watch her, until she got off. When the bar closed, she’d have to leave and he could talk to her then. He knew where she lived. She could run, but she couldn’t hide. That sounded like as good a plan as any.
Ryan relaxed a little, and refocused on Heather’s gyrating ass, so maybe he could get his body under control. She did nothing for him, never had. When she’d been on the circuit, Ryan thought Zack might give her a test-drive though. He had talked about her a lot, but nothing had ever come of it. Then she left the rodeo to come here evidently. This job suited the curvy brunette, as much as it didn’t suit Twyla. Suddenly the dancers spun to face the crowd, and he heard a gasp. His eyes flew to Twyla’s and her shocked expression quickly faded, replaced by anger. The other dancers were still moving to the music, but she wasn’t dancing. Her body practically vibrated with anger as her eyes scorched him.
“C’mon, Daisy! Song’s not over--shake your ass!” the drunk guy who’d given her a hundred a few minutes ago shouted. Twyla’s gaze bounced to him, then back to Ryan. “What the hell are you doing here?” she leaned forward to growl with her fists clenched at her sides.