The Cowboy Says I Do

by Sinclair Jayne

  She was also one pink drink beyond tipsy.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said politely. “Let me get you back to your friends.”

  Her fingers continued to caress his belt buckle. He caught her hand as it drifted lower.

  “Do you taste as sweet as you talk?”

  He wasn’t touching that.

  “Excuse me, ma’am. I need to…”

  “You are sex on a stick. Say it again. The ma’am thing.”

  “I think I better get you back to your friends, ma’am. Or call you a cab or…” He looked for help, but Bodhi looked away from him—probably laughing, the bastard.

  And Bowen looked amused and turned to talk to Luke Wilder, a former rodeo cowboy from the tour who now lived locally and raised bucking bulls and broncs with his wife and family.

  “I’m Shauna. Will you be my cowboy tonight?”

  “No, ma’am, I’m taken.”

  “The good ones always are. Dance with me. One dance, please. It took me this long to get my courage up to talk to you. My twin sister’s getting married this week and I’m single. Everyone will laugh at me if you walk away.”

  Damn.

  “Would you care to dance, Shauna?” he asked.

  Her smile was bright but goofy, and he hoped he could get in the dance before she puked. This never happened to Bodhi. Never. Ever.

  “I learned how to two-step online.” She pressed tightly against him, one hand jammed down his back pocket, the other hand was around his neck and in his hair. “And we had a lesson this week as part of the bridal activities.” She draped herself all over him. “Show me how it’s done, cowboy,” she said throatily.

  This was not how it was done. Beck kept trying to politely keep some distance, but she kept pressing up against him and doing a rather suggestive hip grind. He could feel the press of her breasts—braless in her bright red and white sundress.

  “There’s usually more distance with the steps so I can turn you,” Beck said more than once, but Shauna wasn’t having any of that.

  He’d never been so relieved when a song ended. He disentangled himself to urge her to return to her table, when another song started up, this one a Chris Stapleton ballad, and one dance became two as Shauna began to sing and snuggle closer. Her lips brushed his neck. Beck kept his hold on her loose, but for the most part it was more wrestling than dancing. He began to two-step them toward the door, determined to either get her back to her friends or call her a cab.

  “I’m staying at the Graff,” she said, digging her spiked heels into the already abused floors of Grey’s. “I have my own room. I’m the maid of honor. No expense spared. Want to join me?”

  What did she take him for, a cowboy escort?

  “I can walk you to the hotel,” he said. But that was all he was doing.

  She laughed and dragged him toward her table. He needed to make a quick escape. Shauna picked up a drink from the tray the waitress was delivering and started to slurp.

  “This is my cowboy,” she shouted. “I’m taking him back to my room,” she told her friends, who cheered.

  Hell no!

  “Ma’am.” He tried to extricate himself from her unexpectedly tenacious grip.

  How had this happened to him? Bodhi was definitely laughing. He even toasted him with his beer, double bastard. Bowen scowled as if Beck had instigated this disaster.

  “I’m going to ride a cowboy,” Shauna bragged, still holding a drink high in her hand as she weaved back toward the door. One hand still gripped his belt and buckle.

  “Coming though. I got me a hottie,” Shauna shouted as she pulled them through the double swinging doors.

  Shauna stood in front of Grey’s double doors, blocking them and faced him. “You are hotter than the sun. And so strong. Did you know there are six hundred and fifty skeletal muscles in the human body? I bet you exercise each one.” She stumbled into him and tipped her drink, dousing his white shirt with pink.

  “Oops! Wet T-shirt contest. You win.” She leaned into him to lick his shirt.

  Worst night of his life ever. “Let’s get you back to your hotel.” Using his body, he moved her the rest of the way out of Grey’s, steadying her by keeping his hands on her shoulders. Was he going to have to carry her?

  Once on the sidewalk, he came face-to-face with Ashni, who stood with Sky Wilder, waiting to get into Grey’s. Both had nearly identical expressions of shock on their faces, and Ashni blinked several times like she did when she was trying to suppress strong emotion or process something confusing.

  Damn. His night just tanked worse.

  “Uhhhh, Ash. This isn’t what it looks like,” he stammered in horror stepping away from Shauna, who weaved and then faced the two women.

  “You wasted no time,” Ashni said.

  “No. I didn’t. I mean…I’m not…” Never as quick or glib as Bodhi, Beck grasped at an explanation.

  “Hey, he’s mine tonight. Find your own cowboy,” Shauna slurred.

  “No thanks.” Ash brushed by them both. “I’m done with cowboys, especially this one. Enjoy.”

  Ash swept through the door of Grey’s linking arms with Sky Wilder, who threw in a silky hair toss and glare his way.

  “I think I’m going to be sick,” Shauna announced.

  Beck already was.

  He stared at the doors as they swung shut. He had to get in there. He had to explain. But Ash’s accusation was ludicrous. How could she think he’d pick up a woman a few hours after she left? And she hadn’t even left, not really. They hadn’t broken up.

  He wouldn’t know how.

  He stared at the weaving Shauna, loath to touch her but not able to leave her on the street in this condition. Would it be better to put her in his truck to make better time or walk her to the hotel, hoping she’d sober up some?

  “Need some help, cowboy?” Bowen came out.

  “Now you ride to my rescue? Ash is about to castrate me.”

  “Don’t let me stand in her way. I’ll take…?”

  “Shauna, I think. Or Sheila?” Beck couldn’t remember. Seeing Ashni had scrambled his brain.

  “You’re cute.” Shauna looked up at Bowen, clearly having no loyalty, and relief coursed through Beck.

  “So I’ve heard,” Bowen said. “But I think it was just once and a rumor my mother started.”

  Shauna laughed so hard she snorted. “OMG. You’re funny.”

  “You’re wasted on the rodeo,” Beck told his cousin. “Maybe Comedy Central. Cowboy stand-up.” It felt a little better now that Bowen had his back.

  “Go get your girl.”

  “I intend to.” Beck squared his shoulders and shoved open the doors.

  Chapter Four

  Ashni perched on a barstool that Luke Wilder, Sky’s brother-in-law, had vacated for her. She angled her body toward the bar. She was not going to look at the swinging doors. She wasn’t. She didn’t care that Beck had replaced her within a couple of hours with a vivacious, gorgeous, tall, curvy blonde who drank Grey’s signature pink drink and probably giggled like a middle school girl.

  She was fine being single!

  That’s what this week, maybe a year, maybe forever was all about. Time to plan for a future—without Beck, who’d seized the first opportunity to get horizontal with the first willing woman. The memory of the hook-up questions he’d asked Bodhi mocked her, and, no, those were not tears stinging her eyes!

  Totally unlike him—or so she’d thought. He never looked at women when they were out, and they’d looked at him. A lot. Especially on the tour.

  She’d wanted some space. Looked like she’d got it. Permanently.

  Ashni pulled herself out of her slouch—her former Shastriya Devesh instructor would be horrified at her slumping posture. She could practically hear the scold from states away.

  “What can I get you two?” Luke asked politely.

  “Club soda with lime,” she said while Sky ordered a whiskey.

  “Wild woman,” Ashni teased.


  “Make that two whiskeys, Luke,” Sky said all saucy. “I’m going to teach Ashni how to shoot whiskey so she can look badass cowgirl when her idiot man comes charging in hangdog muttering some dumb explanation.”

  “To be fair,” Luke began, “he—”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” Ashni interrupted. Seeing Beck with a woman who was the total opposite of her—stumbling drunk from a bar—would make it easier to ignore him this week. Make that forever.

  “He seemed pretty occupied,” she added, aiming for casual, but her voice sounded raw. She would not cry. Instead she wanted to smack that shocked look off his face. And maybe kick him in the balls with the toe of the new boots she’d bought with Sky today.

  She’d had such a surreal day. Watching Beck dodge Jerry’s nosy questions on TV and having to make light of it in front of her parents and family. Her rash resignation and job application. The fun shopping with Sky and making dinner for Ben without any of ‘the boys.’ Ashni felt like she’d just been put on a spin cycle.

  She could feel Bodhi watching her, trying to get her attention, practically willing her to look or walk over, but he was also chatting up a beautifully rich, auburn-haired woman.

  Men.

  She’d been to Grey’s Saloon many times with Beck and his cousins, but she’d only had eyes for one man. And he for her. But now that she was newly single, she should at least pretend to look around and be interested in other men.

  “Here, try this. Look happy.”

  “What?”

  “He’s here.” Sky firmly put a tumbler of whiskey in her hand.

  Ashni’s heart jumped to her throat. Beck was back? With or without his tipsy conquest? She so wasn’t going to look.

  OMG, I’m in middle school again.

  “But I ordered a…”

  “Whiskey will look cooler,” Sky interrupted. “Toss it back and throw yourself into the burn,” Sky advised. “Just don’t toss it in his face. This is my brother-in-law Laird’s top-shelf. And if your man’s acting stupid, he’s not worth the good stuff. Besides—” Sky swung her long hair behind her and smiled, her blue eyes alight with mischief “—Jason will kick you out if you act up, and he has a long memory. Luke’s been tossed out.” Sky needled her brother-in-law.

  Luke slid the club soda in front of Ashni as well. “Thank you for the reminder, little sister, but Colt was tossed as well, and we’re both back in Jason’s good graces.”

  “As if there is such a thing,” Sky said. “At least pretend to sip. Laird finally convinced Jason to give him a trial month with the whiskey to see what patrons think. Choking on it or having the top-shelf tossed at a cowboy, no matter how badly he deserves it, will not make the impression Laird wants. Well, considering it’s Laird, maybe that is an impression he could get behind. Ignore Beck. Act cool. Make him sweat. Use his F-up as creative fodder.”

  “I’m going to tell my little brother Kane his wife has a mean streak a mile wide,” Luke said. “Ladies, enjoy your night of cruelty toward men and acting cool.” Luke pulled out his phone and texted before walking away to join another group of cowboys.

  Ashni couldn’t breathe, much less act cool. Sky was acting like this was fun, and Ashni found herself utterly unable to enter the spirit of the game. Games were more the Ballantyne thing. One would think she would have picked up some skills after so many years. But she did have a lot of acting experience to draw from.

  “Showtime,” she murmured and pretended to take a sip of the whiskey. Even the fumes made her eyes water. Definitely the whiskey, not what was going down with Beck and pink drink swilling—judging by the pink splattered on Beck’s shirt—blonde.

  And then he was here. Even before she saw him, she felt him. And smelled him: orange, cedar, cinnamon and something that was uniquely Beck. She couldn’t help herself. She closed her eyes and inhaled deeply.

  “Ash, I can explain.” The deep timbre of his voice tingled her ears, and the buzz went down to her toes.

  She felt herself melt—melt with longing and forgiveness and…stupid girl. Her eyes snapped open. Not happening. Be strong. She didn’t want her life to revolve around Beck, and she couldn’t throw herself back into his arms the moment he got within touching range. Besides, the pink splash on his white shirt and the way the shirt’s wet spot clung to his well-defined chest reminded her of what he’d been doing and with whom.

  She thought of something snarky to say—well, bitchy, really—but instead closed her eyes and sniffed at the whiskey in what she hoped looked like appreciation. At least the whiskey drowned out Beck’s scent a little.

  Beck could do whatever he wanted as long as it was without her.

  “No explanation necessary.” She looked up into his eyes, bracing herself to act cool—whatever that looked like in Sky’s opinion. But the open misery in his expression made her heart squeeze.

  “Hi.” Sky smiled. “I’m Sky. This is my friend, Ashni.”

  The misery morphed to confusion. “Yeah, I know,” he said.

  “You in town for the rodeo?” Sky asked a little flirtatiously.

  What was Sky playing at? She knew who Beck was. Ashni pretended to take another tiny sip of the whiskey. “You’re right—this is top-shelf.”

  “You hate whiskey.” Beck’s blue gaze continued to bore a hole in her soul. “Besides…” He leaned into her. Her breath tangled in her throat and her heart hammered. “You didn’t even taste it.”

  “I did.”

  “Prove it,” he softly challenged and somehow her heart kicked up harder.

  “I don’t have to prove anything to you,” she said.

  “True.” His gaze dropped to her mouth, and her lips tingled. “Because I know that you didn’t take a sip.”

  “Whiskey’s my new favorite drink,” she declared.

  “Then maybe you should take a sip, cowgirl.” He pressed his thumb on her bottom lip. “Or you could share.”

  “I don’t share,” she said quickly.

  “Me neither,” he whispered in her ear. His breath was warm; fluttered her hair and caressed her cheek. Her heart flipped. Was he flirting with her?

  She palmed the whiskey, needing something to hold that wasn’t Beck.

  “What’s your top money-making event?” Sky rolled her own glass in her palms, warming it.

  Ashni looked between the two of them. Was she supposed to be taking notes? Was this creative fodder? “You look as though you like to tie things up,” Sky said innocently, but the sparkle in her eyes was wicked.

  Had the girl gone crazy? She didn’t know Sky all that well, but she was a young metals artist with her professional reputation on a steep upward trajectory. She was married to a husband who clearly adored her, and she was a mother with three young children. She was also on the board of Harry’s House and part of a large, almost dynastic family. Should flirty game player be added to the list?

  Ashni definitely needed to take notes—not for Beck—but for the future.

  “I do enjoy roping. It gives me great pleasure.” Beck drawled out the last word and angled his body closer to Ashni’s. Her body lit up. Ignited. Like they weren’t in a public place loud with conversation, laughing, country music, and the crack of pool balls.

  A game! Ashni practically slapped her palm against her forehead. Of course. Sky was playing with Beck. Her husband was a recently retired top-tier bull rider. All rodeo cowboys thrived on challenge.

  And I’ve been a really sure thing for a long time.

  “How are your moves, cowboy?” Sky challenged. “You any good on the dance floor?”

  “I can hold my own.” Beck’s hand slid across Ashni’s shoulders and down her back to rest lightly on her hip. She couldn’t help the shiver of awareness as goose bumps rose up to say “welcome home.”

  Stupid body.

  “I’d love to give you a demonstration with your friend here.” Beck smiled down at her. He mouthed, ‘I missed you.’

  Ashni was trapped in the heat of his blue gaze. No. This
was not supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to cave at the first challenge. How was she supposed to make this into a game? She didn’t do games. Not ever.

  And yet you fell in love with a man who is constantly engaged in an “I can do better than you” challenge with his cousins.

  “I was hoping for a more up-close and personal demonstration,” Sky said.

  “What?” Beck looked totally shocked. “With you? But…” He looked from Sky to her, almost pleading.

  Ashni stifled the urge to laugh. It was fun to see Beck thrown off his game. And why shouldn’t she play too? Sky was having fun, maybe punishing Beck a little for leaving a bar with a rather drunk blonde, but now that Ashni had processed the shock, she knew Beck wouldn’t cheat or hook up with a woman who was drunk.

  “That’s not very polite, cowboy,” she said. “My friend all but asked you to dance. You’re not going to leave her hanging, are you?” She lifted the whiskey to her lips. “Besides, you bragged about your moves. I want to see them.”

  “Ashni?”

  “You may not know this about me, but I like to watch.”

  Shock at her audacity flooded through her, and a surprised heat entered his gaze. Maybe she needed to dial it down a bit.

  “I prefer first-hand experience.” Sky’s gaze was bold as it roved from Beck’s face, down his body and back up again, slowly.

  “Ahhhhh.” Pink tinged his cheeks, which lightened Ashni’s mood considerably. When had she become so serious? She was becoming a dud—always worrying about the future like her mom, never reveling in the moment anymore.

  Beck took the whiskey from Ashni and took a healthy sip.

  “Now you can taste it.” He brushed his lips over hers, and it was all Ashni could do to hold off from tossing herself into his kiss. Beck lingered, his mouth barely touching hers.

  “I’d love to dance,” he said. “I’d just like to explain something to Ashni that happened but didn’t happen. I haven’t seen my girl for two weeks, and I want…”