by Starla Kaye
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Cowboy Dreamin’
Copyright © 2014 by Starla Kaye
ISBN: 978-1-61333-661-8
Cover art by Fiona Jayde
All rights reserved. Except for use in any review, the reproduction or utilization of this work, in whole or in part, in any form by any electronic, mechanical or other means now known or hereafter invented, is forbidden without the written permission of the publisher.
Published by Decadent Publishing Company, LLC
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By
Starla Kaye
Chapter One
Kendra Barlow raced into the ladies’ bathroom at the Poi Shopping Village, panting. Late, again. At least the group hadn’t started without her. They wouldn’t be pleased. Most of them had real jobs and depended on doing this volunteer show on time. None of them had more commitments than she did. Still, she hadn’t meant to get here late. In August, a high point in the second of the tourist seasons, she’d had to take one of the few parking spaces left in the lot. They would have a good-sized crowd today.
She jerked her T-shirt off and readjusted the annoying coconut bra. Stupidest idea ever for part of a costume. No matter how many times she’d worn it—two hundred, three hundred—it never felt comfortable. She needed to put in a new flannel lining…one of these days, when she had two spare seconds.
With a sigh, she tugged off her jean shorts, leaving only her bikini bottom. She had just reached for the duffle bag holding the rest of her Tahitian dance costume when the door opened and her best friend, Alexis, rushed inside.
The slender brunette gaped at her. “What did you do to your hair?”
“I wanted a change in my life.” Kendra glanced into the mirror above the row of sinks and grimaced. Okay, it might not be her best look and she shouldn’t have made the rash decision the day before, but she didn’t have time to deal with the problem.
Alexis walked over, smiling now, and fingered the waist-length mass of wavy purplish-brown hair. “Actually, I kind of like the color. It grows on you after the first shocking moment. But I’m not sure how the others will feel about it. This is a pretty traditional dance group, remember.”
Kendra went back to digging in her duffle bag and pulled out a hot pink wraparound skirt. She shook it to fluff out the grass strands and row of black tassels. “Traditional, except that none of us are Tahitian.”
“True enough, but we all have great tans. And the more typical dark hair.” Alexis giggled and tugged Kendra’s feathered and flowered headpiece from the bag. “We did until today, anyway.”
The bathroom door flew open and the other two dancers strode inside. As they spotted Kendra, both of them gawked in surprise.
Mary, the shortest of them all, recovered first. “Are you crazy?”
Kendra sent her an offended look and wrapped her skirt in place. “I’ve been bored.” As far as excuses went, lame. Besides, they all knew she worked at one job or another pretty much eighteen hours a day, three hundred sixty-five days a year. She didn’t have time for boredom. Yet, she’d needed to disturb her rut and altering her appearance was the best she could manage for now. Purple hair, though, might have been a poor choice.
Alexis finger-combed Kendra’s hair and set the large headpiece in place. “What you’ve been doing is running around on too little sleep for too long. You’re not thinking right.”
Mary picked up the discarded T-shirt and shorts and shoved them into the duffel bag. “You need at least a few days off from everything.”
“Like in a vacation,” Sue clarified, continuing to stare at Kendra’s hair.
A vacation. If only that were possible. Kendra hadn’t had free time since her ex-fiancé—whose name she refused to say anymore—had brought her to Kauai four years ago and dumped her. She didn’t like to dwell on past problems. She had survived here, become entrenched in the community of Koloa, and made friends. There wasn’t anyone back in Kansas City. Her parents had died in a car accident before she’d left Kansas and she didn’t have any other family. Still, she missed the Midwest. Sometimes living on this beautiful island and being surrounded by water didn’t feel right.
She forced her musings away and kicked out of her sandals. Smiling, she raised her chin and said, “Time to shimmy and shake, ladies.”
Alexis grimaced at the slight dark circles under her eyes that Kendra had failed to cover with makeup. “Seriously, you need a vacation.”
As Alexis sighed, Kendra moved the duffle bag under the sinks with the other dancers’ bags. She refused to talk any more about the subject.
Kendra led the way out of the ladies’ room and down the sidewalk between the shops toward the area they used for the Tahitian Dance Show. “All I have time for, my friends, is reading hot and steamy romance books and dreaming.”
Alexis caught up with her and laughed. “You could have all the romance you want in reality. All you have to do is go out with one of the hundreds of guys constantly asking you. I’m so jealous.”
It had taken Kendra a while to get over Nameless Dip-Shit Man, but she’d dated a little. Okay, maybe a half-dozen times a year when she needed more than whatever new battery-operated wonder toy she’d bought could offer. When she couldn’t take another day without having a man’s body touching her. Sad, though, that touching only involved kissing because she had a rule about not having sex on the first date or two. But she’d done the naughty with a local guy a few times in the last year. Nice, but….
She tromped down all thoughts about her miserable sex life. “You, jealous? Seriously?” she huffed, thinking about the stud muffin, mega-rich computer techie Alexis had met and married the previous year. “Does Tyler know you think about other men?”
“He knows there isn’t another one alive who could compare to him.” Her eyes sparkled with adoration and lust. “Anyway, I’m happy, and there’s nothing wrong with me wanting you to be happy, too.”
Mary moved to Kendra’s other side. “But you’re longing for some guy in a white hat, tight, faded jeans, and scuffed boots to fulfill your fantasies.”
“A cowboy, yes,” Kendra agreed.
Ju
st saying the word cowboy sent shivers all through her. She’d watched Westerns with her dad as a child and gone to a couple of small rodeos with him. Her fantasies involved a breath-stealing handsome cowboy who would sweet talk her, show her wild and wicked loving, and carry her off into the sunset on his big white horse for a perfect life. But meeting one in Kauai…well, pretty unlikely.
She smiled at her friends. “That idea is for my dreams. An actual date with one would only be for some brief fun.” She added the words she’d told them over and over, words she still tried to convince herself were true. “He wouldn’t be the kind of man I would marry.”
And, as Alexis had countered before, she pressed, “How do you know that?”
Kendra didn’t like over-thinking the issue. “I just do.” In truth, she didn’t have any set requirements for her future husband. But she imagined he would be a more typical suit-wearing, meticulously groomed, go to the office five days a week, and golf on Saturday conservative man. Okay, boring. She had no clue to where that description came from, but felt certain her future husband would fit it pretty darn well.
How depressing!
“Shimmy and shake time,” she stated again and walked faster toward the dance area, leaving her friends to catch up with her.
***
Shane eased into his rig, sore all over, and damn glad he’d invested in the luxury package when he’d bought his Ford F-150 earlier in the year. He started the engine and cranked on the air. It had been hotter than hell in the Ponca City arena today. He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his forearm. Oklahoma in August…not his favorite place in the world. But during the hot end of summer, nowhere in the Midwest to West was real pleasant.
He glanced back toward the bunch of bedraggled cowboys straggling from the grounds of the 101 Wild West Rodeo and heading for their rigs. Most would push on tonight for the next rodeo. A few would go into town, find one of the bars they liked to hang out at, then search for a hot and willing woman to take on back to their hotel room for the night. He wasn’t of a mind to do any of that.
Tired to the bone, he punched Home on the navigation system. He could use more points and winning money from the next rodeo on his familiar circuit. But he’d drawn one hell-evil bull this last round. At least he’d gotten out of the arena alive. Damn Demoneater. The big Brahman had pressed the bejesus out of his left knee before they’d even left the chute. After all of the times his knee had gotten injured, one of these days he might have to get knee surgery. He wasn’t excited about that.
He sat back, drew in a deep breath, and regretted it. His first ride of the day had managed to swing around and head-butted him into the fence before being forced out of the arena. Doc had told him he was lucky he’d only sprained a few ribs, instead of busting them. Yeah, he needed healing time back at the Double C and sleeping in his own bed.
As the cool air blew over him, he hit Carson’s number on the speed dial. He’d missed his ranch partner, best buddy, lover on occasion. That slow Texas drawl settled him. It lessened some of his loneliness as he traveled the circuit. This time he’d been away from Kansas and the ranch two solid months.
“So, how’d you do?” Carson Donnely asked in his deep, smooth drawl. “Are you heading to Mesquite tonight?”
Shane rubbed at his eyes, at the headache starting to pound in his forehead. “Took first, but it was damn close this time.” Too close, because he wasn’t at the top of his game at the moment. His body had suffered too many injuries this summer; even though minor, they still added up.
“Good. You should be in decent shape, point-wise.”
He nodded and then remembered Carson couldn’t see him. “Pretty respectable, but I’m going to pass on Mesquite and maybe Breckenridge, too.”
At Caron’s indrawn breath, Shane sensed a grilling coming, so he cut it off. “I’m banged up a little more than I should be to get in a good ride. I figure taking some time out is what I need. I’ll be home after midnight I reckon. Around six or seven hours from now.”
“Are you sure you shouldn’t stay in—”
“No, I’ve had more than enough nights in hotel beds,” Shane cut in. “I’ve been dreaming about that big old king-sized bed of mine.”
Carson remained quiet a couple of seconds. “When you have the energy to get around in the morning, I’ll rub Deep Heat on your back. Maybe give you a good massage.” He hesitated. “Maybe…?”
It had been too long since they’d shared a bed or done any sheet rumpling. Shane had spent a few nights with a groupie a couple of months back and taken a weekend with another woman who’d tempted him into it last month. He never did serious. Anyone he bedded knew that and had the same outlook. But being with Carson didn’t involve anything more than each of them seeking pure enjoyment without any complications. It was a relief, in more ways than one.
“We’ll have to see, buddy.” He shifted into reverse and backed up. “I may need a couple of days to heal first. My bum knee took another hit, and my ribs are damn sore.”
He didn’t have to see Carson’s face to know he sported a frown, and his strained tone revealed his concern. “You should have quit after last season, like I did.”
This subject caused them a lot of problems. Shane hated getting into it again. “We need another year’s worth of winnings. Getting the big bucks at National would be great, too.”
“We’ll survive.” Carson cursed under his breath. “It’s not worth you crippling yourself…or getting killed.”
Frustration curled through Shane, but he tamped down the urge to snap back that he knew what he was doing; Carson shouldn’t worry. He’d be lying. For too long, almost twelve years, he’d been abusing his body working the rodeo circuits and busting bulls. They needed the money for the ranch, yes, but riding bulls was what he did, living for the adrenaline high of a hard ride. At twenty-eight, he wasn’t ancient in the sport, but there were days when his body felt like it.
“This is my last year, like I already told you.” He turned the truck toward the exit from the rodeo grounds and blew out a breath. “I don’t want to get back there and fight about this matter.”
It took another second for Carson to calm down. “I’ll do my best. But seeing you all busted up…. Well, you know that pains me, too.”
Easing onto the road, Shane thought again about how his partner needed someone else in his life to fret about. He needed a good woman to love him, to let him love her. He’d been burned by the last one he’d been involved with for more than an overnight fling. Carson never planned on getting married. Damn waste.
As if he read his thoughts, Carson said with annoyance lacing his words, “Don’t even go there.”
“Where?” Shane tried to sound innocent and puzzled.
“Dammit, Shane, I know you! When I start worrying about you, you start thinking I need a woman to fuss over instead.” He grumbled to himself, and then added, “What the hell about you? You’ve wanted a wife, a family of your own, for a long time. You’re just—”
Shane didn’t care to go down that miserable route, so he disconnected. Carson would be ticked, but he’d understand. Shane had desired all of that, ached for it. After being a foster kid passed around from one place to another until he took off on his own at sixteen, he’d always longed to make a real home, complete with a woman he could love to the end of his days and kids he could spoil rotten. But those dreams had been shot to oblivion and beyond with one bull riding incident five years before. He’d more than likely never be able to father a child, the attending doctor had told him. He could never burden someone he loved with damaged goods.
Still, he’d like to once again spend a day of romancing a female who wasn’t a rodeo groupie, one who wanted to spend time with him for more than just bragging rights at having bedded a bull rider. He’d like to have a night of sweet loving, and give it right back.
He tightened his jaw and put the gas pedal to the floorboard. A foolish man’s wishes. In reality, he’d settle for sex the res
t of his days with willing women who didn’t long for forever afters.
Hell! He pounded his fist on the steering wheel. Life could be so damn unfair.
***
Carson paced his semi-dark bedroom. He glanced at the bedside clock: 3:00 a.m. Where the hell is he?
He moved to the window, and looked as far as he could see toward the ranch road. Most of the area in front of the house had lights on for safety reasons. The bunkhouse and foreman’s house were both dark. Everyone would be sleeping, like he should be. But he hadn’t slept more than an hour all night. He never did when he knew Shane had headed home. For some reason he didn’t worry all the while Shane was off rodeoing. Well, he did, a little. When his friend had reached the end of the circuit or his body had taken all the abuse it could for a while and he drove back, Carson got the most concerned.
I’m not your baby chick to fret over. How many times had Shane said that to him? You need someone else to worry about. Shane said that, too, a lot. Dang it, a mother hen! They were pretty much all either of them had. They were partners in a lot of ways. He had a right to worry. He cared.
He studied the new barn, the fancy outdoor corral, and the covered arena that had gotten finished a week ago. The Double C cost them most of their savings and left them with a whopper of a mortgage. But neither regretted the huge investment of time, money, and sweat they kept on making. This would be their home for years to come. They planned to pass it on to their kids someday.
Kids? What the hell was he thinking? Loving anyone meant trouble, enduring too much risk, and suffering a lot of pain when it went bad. He’d suffered through three bad relationships. The last one had sealed it for him. He would not put his heart on the line again. But maybe, if things ever settled down, he might check into adopting.
His thoughts returned to Shane who refused to even consider the idea of marriage or children anymore because of that damn accident. He’d make a great father. He was good with kids and more patient than God most of the time. But if Shane couldn’t make a baby of his own flesh and blood, then there wasn’t anything to talk about. Idiot. Not every woman wanted to bear a child. Some would be happy enough adopting. But Shane wouldn’t talk about that either.
