Wild for You

by Daisy Prescott

  I let the words hang between us, hoping she’ll offer her name and not make me ask.

  “Zoe.”

  “Nice to meet you, Zoe.” My smile is slow and genuine. “I’m Justin.”

  Her eyebrows draw together.

  “Everyone calls me Buzz because of this.” I brush a hand over my head.

  “Nice to meet you, Justin.”

  My name is called as tonight’s champion. I reluctantly release her arm. Stepping into the stirrup, I swing my leg over Cisco’s back and settle into my saddle. “Meet me at the Main Street Bar. I’ll be there as soon as I finish up around here.”

  As the group of riders line up in the center of the arena, I catch a glimpse of Zoe’s dark braids in the crowd. I fight the smile tugging on my lips. Seeing her again makes me happy—unexpected, but not unwelcome.

  As I take my slow lap to show off the winner’s buckle, I catch myself tracking her. Tonight’s emcee thanks everyone for coming and the music cuts to some country song I don’t bother to recognize.

  Kimmy and Cheryl, two of the barrel riders on the circuit, stroll my way as I remove Cisco’s saddle and tack. Both women are nice enough, on the eyes and personality, but neither is the woman I’m hoping to spend the rest of the evening with. Same with the rest of the crew and riders. Not a bad bunch of people, but honest to God, I can’t spend another night listening to the same stories and exaggerated triumphs.

  I’m quick to finish up with Cisco and put him in the paddock where he’ll stay overnight with some of the other horses.

  “Coming to the bar tonight?” Kimmy, the freckled blonde, asks. Cheryl, a taller blonde with long legs and a longer list of conquests, leans against the fence near me.

  “You haven’t hung out with us all summer.” Cheryl pouts.

  “Been busy.” I close and lock the horse trailer. “Beautiful women like you two have your pick of cowboys on the circuit. No reason to waste your time on a boring old guy like me.”

  The two women exchange glances.

  “If you change your mind, we’re going to Main Street,” Kimmy says with a wave as they walk away.

  Well, shit. I’ve invited Zoe to meet me at the same place. The longer I take to finish for the night, the longer she and her friend will be in a bar full of adrenaline high cowboys.

  Gentry doesn’t complain or ask questions when I borrow his RV’s bathroom to clean up.

  After the world’s quickest shower and a change of clothes, I catch a ride downtown with Dusty, who can’t wipe the surprise off his face.

  “Someone smells fresh.” He nods in approval. “You hooking up with the buckle bunny you chatted up earlier? Is that the same one from Snowmass?”

  I arch an eyebrow. “You making a scrapbook of my life?”

  He fakes a laugh. “Thought you swore off the bunnies.”

  “She’s not a buckle collector.” Now he’s starting to ruin my good mood.

  “If you say so.” He pulls into a spot in the parking lot. “Nothing wrong with a woman who knows what she wants.”

  He makes a good point.

  “Thanks for the ride. Remember to wear one of these tonight.” I pick up the open box of condoms from the floor. “Might want to go ahead and put one on now.”

  He flips me off as I toss the box on the seat.

  Still chuckling, I open the door and hop out of the truck’s cab.

  “Thanks, Dad,” he yells while I walk away.

  Inside the dimly lit bar, I weave my way through the crowd, scanning for Zoe. A half wall divides the dining area from the long bar. Beyond the bar is a dance floor at the back.

  After making a loop around the space, I finally spot two cowboys already chatting up Zoe and her friend near the front of the bar.

  As I watch, the men act like roosters with their puffed up chests. If they weren’t chatting up the woman I’m interested in, I’d probably find their cocky preening funny.

  Frowning, I stroll up to the foursome.

  “Hello, ladies.” I flash a bright smile at Zoe.

  Her eyes light up as she scans over my body.

  “Someone cleans up well.” Her friend extends a hand. “I’m Mae.”

  “Justin,” I introduce myself. “Nice to meet you.”

  Releasing Mae, I turn to Zoe and take her hand, lifting it to my lips.

  Her eyes widen when I press a kiss to her skin.

  “Thanks for coming out tonight,” I drawl, soft enough only she can hear me.

  Her lips part and she blinks slowly at me. I smile at the effect I have on her.

  Good, because she’s all I can think of right now.

  “Save a dance for me,” the bolder of the two men tells Zoe. “I’ll be happy to show you how to two-step.”

  “I think I have it covered.” I cast a dirty look over my shoulder.

  When the two young bucks blanch at my scowl, I struggle to keep from laughing. Best part about having a reputation as a cranky bastard, people don’t want to get on my bad side.

  Positioning my body between the guys and Zoe, I ask, “Hungry? Let’s find a seat.”

  We grab a table in the corner. Out of habit I sit with my back against the wall to watch the room and avoid anyone sneaking up on me.

  A four piece band takes the tiny stage and introduces themselves. The group of older men with silver in their beards warms up and does a quick sound check. The music is loud enough to prevent conversation. A few couples dance to the classic country songs.

  Not that I could talk much as I inhale a bison burger like it’s my first meal in a month. Zoe and Mae pick at a bowl of chips and guacamole while drinking margaritas. I’m the beast among beauties.

  One of the guys from earlier stalks over to our table. He’s either stupid or lost a bet.

  “I’m here to see if you’re ready to dance.” Luckily for him, he directs his question at Mae.

  She smiles at him and then gives Zoe a questioning glance.

  “Go ahead.” Zoe encourages her with a smile. “You get your two-step on.”

  I stare at her while the cowboy leads her friend to the dance floor. “Not a fan of country music?”

  “Not really. And I don’t know the dances.”

  A few couples clearly have the steps down as they glide around the dance floor.

  Several cowboys in the bar keep glancing over here. I’m not sure if they’re shocked to see me with a woman or if they’re checking out Zoe. Neither option sits well with me. To squash their interest in her, I’m going to need to make a statement. And that’s going to push me out of my comfort zone.

  “That shouldn’t stop you.” Resolved, I wipe my hands on my napkin and stand. “Come on, I’ll show you.”

  “You’re asking me to dance?” She stares at my outstretched fingers.

  I wiggle them. “I’ve been told I’m good, so I can promise I won’t step on your toes.”

  She studies my face, her eyes searching for something. Sincerity? Joking?

  “I’m serious. Don’t women like men who can dance? Or is that something my grandmother told me to get me to take lessons?” Cocking my head, I give her a half smile.

  “Now I’m curious.” She slips her hand into mine, and I pull her up.

  Holding her hand, I guide us through the tables to the edge of the dance floor. I haven’t danced in a long time. Can’t remember the last time. Maybe my grandmother’s seventy-fifth birthday party last year.

  Let’s hope I can remember the steps and not make a fool of myself.

  Chapter 11

  Zoe

  Justin’s warm, rough fingers cradle my hand like it’s something precious. I blindly follow him through the bar to the dance floor. He could probably lead me right out the door and into the night, and I wouldn’t protest.

  It’s the first time we’ve touched skin to skin for more than a minute, and my body responds like he’s flipped a switch, flooding light where darkness has loitered for months.

  The warmth from his hand around mine is the
sun breaking through storm clouds.

  On the small stage—only two feet higher than the rest of the floor—is a quartet of older men playing old fashioned country tunes. One has a slide guitar splayed in front of him. The tunes are upbeat, but the lyrics I catch could drive anyone to drink whiskey for breakfast.

  Justin leads me to the far edge, where it’s less crowded with couples rotating counter-clockwise around the floor.

  “Trust me.” With a jerk to my hand, he spins me around to face him. He lifts my left hand to his shoulder and rests his on my back near my bra strap. It’s a formal position with lots of room between our bodies for the Holy Spirit. Or at least the big gap makes me think of dancing supervised by Catholic nuns.

  “What’s so funny?” The corners of his mouth curl up.

  “Nothing,” I say with a shake of my head. “I’m nervous.”

  “Don’t be. I’ve got you.” The smile he gives me is nothing but sweet and genuine.

  “All I ask is you catch me before my face plants on the floor.”

  He barks out a chuckle. “Promise.”

  “Swear on your belt buckle. Or Cisco.”

  He’s still chuckling when he meets my eyes. “Take me at my word.”

  Beneath his black Stetson, his eyes are dark as a night without stars. It would be so easy to get lost in them forever. He begins talking again and I try to focus on his words and not the trifecta of his eyes, his hand on my back, and mine touching his shoulder.

  “We’re going to go quick quick, then slow slow. Step on your right foot first.” He lifts and lowers his feet to demonstrate. “Follow me. When I want you to turn, I’ll put a little pressure on right here. Can you feel that?”

  Yes, yes I can. I nod as he flexes his hand against my bra strap.

  “Good, now open your hand and rest your palm on my shoulder.”

  I’m fondling his shoulder. It is everything and more. Strong, rounded with muscle, and hard as a rock. A girl could have fantasies about his shoulders. I add it to my collection.

  “Here we go.” He smirks.

  Dancing with Justin is like skiing in fresh powder. Effortless and smooth. Even though I’m dancing backward, he leads me around the floor, weaving us through the other couples. With a gentle press of his fingers on my shoulder blade, he guides me through a turn. Amazingly, I don’t trip.

  “You look surprised,” he whispers when I’m back in his arms.

  It’s an understatement for how I’m feeling right now.

  I’m a minute from turning into a pile of swoony goo. Never in my life have I swooned over a man before.

  But Justin isn’t a regular guy.

  He’s a cowboy.

  Who can dance and make me laugh. He could probably incinerate my clothes by reading the bar menu in that low, smooth drawl of his.

  In an act of self-preservation, I find myself staring at his mouth instead of his eyes.

  His tongue pokes out and presses against a barely visible cut on his lip.

  My fingers flex on the wide shoulder as I stare at the almost healed cut.

  Oh shit.

  When the song ends, my mind is a mess of trying to fit together the hiker with the cowboy persona at the same time preventing my body from stripping off all my clothes right here and now. I’m turned on and freaking out.

  “How’d you like it?” he asks, as we walk toward the bar.

  Quick, quick. Slow.

  I’ll take it both ways.

  “You’re an amazing dancer.”

  “And you’re a quick learner.” I catch his smile from the corner of my eye.

  Quick, quick. Slow.

  I focus on finding Mae in the crowd of cowboy hats. When I finally pick her out, I make a beeline in that direction.

  “Can I get you something from the bar?” Justin offers.

  Why does he have to be nice as well as sex in a cowboy hat?

  “I think I’ve hit the wall. I’m going to grab Mae and head back to the hotel.” Sure, I’m using my friend as a human shield, but she’d do the same if the roles were reversed. “Thanks for the dance.”

  Mae’s laughing and chatting with the two guys from earlier. I swear I hear a growl come out of Justin.

  “Probably a good idea. Nothing but trouble about to happen with this bunch.”

  My eyes widen at his words and warning tone.

  Mae’s less enthused about leaving.

  Justin makes a comment about “charges being dropped” and remarkably, both guys suddenly have somewhere else to be.

  “We should go,” I say to Mae, silently telling her with my eyes not to argue.

  Reluctantly, she finally agrees. I apologize to Justin.

  “No problem. I hope our paths cross again.” He leans close to give me a kiss on the cheek. The brim of his hat bumps my head.

  If Mae doesn’t speed up, I’m thinking about dragging her out of here. Or flipping her over my shoulder and carrying her out like a sack of potatoes.

  “Hurry up.” My voice is whiny and pleading. Yet she still doesn’t pick up on the fact I need to go. Now. Or sooner if possible.

  “What’s wrong with you?” She digs in her heels, making it almost impossible for me to keep on my trajectory toward the exit.

  Stubborn, stubborn woman. I yank on her arm.

  “Why are you running away from the cute cowboy who was all over you? Isn’t that the end game here?” Her voice is teasing as she wiggles free, and stops near the front door.

  “I’ll tell you when we get back to the hotel.”

  The way she stares at me, either the top of my head is on fire, or she’s checking to see if I’ve lost my mind. “No. Nope. Uh huh. Spill.”

  It doesn’t even make sense to me. I’ve been having sexy dreams about cowboys, ropes, and me for weeks. Now here I am, with a live one on the end of my line. Wait, that’s a fishing metaphor. I’ve got one in my lasso? Sure. Point is, he’s not just a cowboy.

  “Remember the friendly hiker?”

  “Moose patrol?” She crosses her arms. “Don’t tell me you’ve already moved on from cowboys to wilderness men. Outdoor enthusiasts? Backcountry Romeo stole your heart with his unhygienic charms?”

  “It’s the same guy. Or I’m so tired, I’m hallucinating.”

  “Are you sure? Buzz is clean shaven.”

  “Men shave. Sometimes they even shower. It can happen. I recognized the cut on his lip.”

  Mae squints and dips her chin. “The cut. On his lip.”

  “I think.” Cowboys and their dates congregate outside on the sidewalk, stalling our getaway. “Once I thought they were the same guy, I got awkward. He probably thinks I’m a weirdo.”

  “I don’t get it. Now you have two things in common. Hiking and rodeos.” She counts on her fingers. “And showering. Three things.”

  She allows me to pull her down the aisle. “You’re missing the point.”

  I keep moving until we’re across the street and the din of country music is muffled.

  “Spill.”

  I face Mae’s crossed arms and “you’re crazy” judging eyes.

  “Hiker said he was headed home.” I wait for the pieces to click into place for her.

  “So?”

  “It means BB is local.”

  “Not to sound like an echo, but, so?” Planting her feet, she glances over her shoulder at the bar.

  “My fantasy hook up can’t be someone I could run into at the grocery store at ten o’clock at night in my pajamas when I’m making a run for cake, popcorn, and tampons.”

  “Specific list.”

  “It’s happened before. My point is, if I’m going to have a one-night stand and live out some sort of wild sex dream, I can’t see him again.”

  “You’re not making sense. What if it’s the best sex of your life? Wouldn’t you want a repeat? Easier if he’s local.”

  Somehow I know she’s right. He’d be amazing and I’d totally want more than one night.

  “And that’s the proble
m. Sage is right. I’m not cut out for random hookups. He’s a hot rodeo cowboy. I’m not a buckle bunny. He probably beds a different woman in every town he visits.” My heart misses a beat as disappointment fills my chest. “I’m not ready to be a notch in a belt. I’m a mess. I spent five years loving the wrong man for me.”

  “I still think being properly sexed up by the right man for one night is the cure you need.”

  “Can’t I be smudged with a sage bush instead? I’ll even let someone sweep feathers all over my body while screaming chakra realignment chants.”

  Mae links her arm through mine. I freeze for a second thinking she’s going to drag me back to Buzz. Thankfully, she spins us in the direction of our hotel.

  “You know that’s not a thing. The screaming part. Your best friend is a green smoothie, soft hearted, blessings kind of woman.”

  “She’d happily burn sage around my body, probably blowing smoke in my face and everything.” I miss my bestie. I’ve yet to figure out the time difference to the other side of the world so we can FaceTime instead of sending random videos and voice messages.

  “Then it’s good you have me.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you.” It’s true. I’d be stuck hiding out in a hotel in Crested Butte waiting for driver guy Chad to come get me.

  Or at home, alone, and eating cake.

  Chapter 12

  Zoe

  “Chad’s MIA.” I drop my backpack at my feet and lean against the planter full of colorful flowers in front of our hotel. “He was supposed to be here forty minutes ago. We’d be halfway home by now.”

  After crashing upon arrival back in our room, we both slept like stones. The blasting beep-beep-beep of Mae’s backup alarm jolted us both awake with ten minutes to spare before our pick up time.

  The adrenaline of rushing to get ready has faded and now I have the yawns as we wait.

  “Did I brush my teeth?” Mae leans close enough for me to smell her thankfully minty breath.