Cowboy 12 Pack
Page 120
He kissed her hard one more time, then jumped to his feet with an agility most men his size only dream of. He held out his hand and pulled her up before she could protest.
Hank turned to the man who had spoken.
“Hey, Art, how’s it going?”
Art Walker was another regular cowboy TJ knew from the circuit. He was looking at her with a shit-eating grin and arms crossed over his chest. Under normal circumstances, she found Art handsome, with his wavy, dark brown hair, blue eyes and nice build. To top it off, he raised quarter horses, one of her favorite breeds. But today, he was just another man. One who had caught her in an incredibly embarrassing situation.
“Not nearly as good as it is for you apparently,” he said as his grin grew wider.
Hank laughed and TJ felt herself blush. Hell, she hadn’t blushed in fifteen years!
“Excuse me.” She grabbed her clipboard from the floor where it had fallen and walked away as quickly, and with as much dignity, as she could.
*
HANK WATCHED TJ’S swaying hips as she hightailed it out of the bullpen area. Damn, that woman had an ass he could hang on to.
Art was still grinning at him. He grinned back. Getting TJ to change her mind was getting to be a lot of fun. Even if she never changed her mind, it would be worth it just to get that woman in a bed where they could finish what they’d started.
He stood and adjusted his dick, then brushed some of the hay from his jeans. He’d never been the type of guy to lose his head over a woman. In fact he didn’t think he ever had. What was it about TJ that set her apart? Other than her gorgeous looks and fiery temper?
“You’re playing with danger, my friend,” Art mused.
“What are you yakking on about?” Hank frowned.
“That one is nobody to screw around with. Things might be different back in Texas, but hereabouts, she is the queen of the universe. That woman doesn’t bend the rules for anyone.” Art nodded at her retreating back. “She’s a hard-ass with a reputation for being a bit—”
“That ain’t happening.” Hank’s temper flared. “She ain’t deserving of gossip like that. No woman is.”
Art held up his hands. “I’m just telling you what I hear.”
“Stop listening to gossip like an old biddy.” Hank walked away before he said or did something he would regret later. TJ might be a strong woman but she didn’t deserve to be judged because she was a tough businesswoman. He was intrigued by her and he sure as hell was attracted to her.
Where this went, he didn’t know and for the first time, he was eager for the journey. He knew he was in for a wild ride, but so was TJ.
Chapter Four
‡
THE NEXT MORNING, TJ stepped out of the hotel she was staying at and found Hank waiting by her truck. Damn him anyway! He was wearing another sinfully tight pair of faded jeans with a rip right by his inner thigh, and a black T-shirt that hugged him like a neoprene suit. He had both hands behind his back, like a little boy hiding a treasure.
A zip of pure lust bolted through her like lightning. She felt an ache between her thighs that only intensified the closer she got to him. That just pissed her off. She still wasn’t over the encounter near the bulls yesterday, emotionally or physically. She wanted him. She wanted to grab him by the hair, drag him back into her hotel room and have her wicked way with him. She also wanted to punch him for making her crazy.
“Good morning, Cinnamon Girl.” The lopsided grin was getting to her.
She licked her lips and forced herself to stop staring at his pectorals. They would probably be incredible to nibble on.
“I brought you a peace offering. Light and sweet.”
He brought out his left hand with a large coffee. Little wisps of steam were escaping from the hole. Her stomach clenched and her mouth watered. Hot, delicious coffee and a hot, delicious man.
“How do you know how I like my coffee?” TJ asked.
Hank shrugged one shoulder. “You bring in a cup every morning from the same place. There’s only one in town. I went in and asked Don if he remembered you. He did. Said you wanted your coffee light, the same color as your freckles. You’re hard to forget.”
She almost blushed again, dammit! “It’s usually because I’m so big.”
He raised one skeptical eyebrow. “Big? You’re not big. Besides, a man my size can’t hang around with little women. They might get hurt when I get busy.”
He grinned at her and offered her the coffee. Then he pulled out a bag in the other hand from behind his back.
“And a treat?”
She narrowed her gaze and sniffed. “Cinnamon bun?”
He nodded with a mischievous grin. “My favorite.”
He sure could crank up the charm. Cinnamon! She laughed and finally reached for the coffee.
“One condition.”
TJ stopped and nearly drew her hand back. He pressed it into her hand.
“You have to tell me what TJ stands for.”
She stared at the coffee and pursed her lips. What could it hurt? It was just coffee. She sighed and took the cup.
“Okay, but if you repeat it to anyone, I’ll deny it, then find you and kick you in the balls so hard, your grandchildren will feel it.”
He held up his hand in surrender. “Scout’s honor. Won’t tell a soul.”
She took a sip of coffee and sighed. “Mmmm…this is good.”
He was staring at her lips like a hungry dog in a butcher shop.
“Come on now, give over.”
She smiled a little tiny grin. “Tessa Jean.”
WHATEVER HANK WAS expecting, it wasn’t that. That was such a girlie, feminine name. It’s not that TJ wasn’t feminine; she was passion and fire. But not a pinky, girlie girl. Still, he liked the name Tessa. He wanted to whisper it to her when they made love.
He was fighting the urge to grab her and drag her back to the hotel room she’d just come out of and make her scream with pleasure until they both could barely move.
After their close encounter yesterday, he had a permanent hard-on that even his hand couldn’t dispel. He was half-erect now just staring at her pink lips glistening with hot coffee.
He shook himself mentally when he realized she was talking to him.
“Huh?”
She scowled at him and took another swig of her coffee. “I said, good coffee isn’t going to change my mind. You are still disqualified from the calf roping.”
Damn, he forgot about that. He had been obsessed with thinking about TJ under him, over him, and around him. Her reminder was enough to get his back up.
“I know that, Miss Tessa Jean. Everything I do isn’t about the goddamn rodeo, you know. I do have a life outside it.”
He threw the bag with the cinnamon bun on the hood of her truck, then turned and walked back to his truck parked a few spots away from hers. When he looked back, she was standing there, staring at him. Although he was at least fifteen feet away, he could swear he saw hurt in her beautiful green eyes.
“Aw, hell,” he muttered, then stalked back to her.
She did look hurt. He cupped her face in his hands and rubbed his thumbs back and forth across her soft lips.
“I’m sorry I snapped at you, Cinnamon Girl.”
Then he did what he’d wanted to do since her red head had popped out of that hotel room door. He kissed her. She tasted of coffee and some kind of minty toothpaste and woman.
Lord, Jesus, he could get lost kissing this woman for a year. She was a good kisser. Just enough pout, tongue and lips to tango with him. His dick was rising like a frigging flagpole in his jeans, pushing its way up and declaring itself victor. It wanted the spoils of war.
She pulled her mouth away and dragged in a breath. “In another minute, I’m going to say to hell with this coffee and work and spend the day in bed with you.” As soon as it popped out of her mouth, her eyes grew wide. “I can’t believe I just said that.
He chuckled and kissed her reddened lips again
. “Why not? I was thinking the same thing.”
Hank saw it in her eyes. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. His pulse kicked up a notch. Sweet Lord, his mouth was actually watering, thinking about getting her naked.
“I’ll leave it up to you, Tessa. I’m yours if you want me.”
*
HANK’S DEEP VOICE vibrated through her, causing every small hair on her body to rise like a compass pointing north. At him. Oh, Lord, she wanted nothing more than to lose herself in bed with him all day. She swayed toward him, drunk on simply looking into his expectant, sexy eyes.
“TJ?”
Pablo’s voice from behind her was enough to break the magical spell between them. TJ blinked and shook her head. Hank ran his hand down his face, then looked down at the ground with his hands on his hips. She could clearly see the beginnings of a very nice erection in those tight jeans.
Damn.
She heard Pablo’s footsteps coming up behind her. He was her right-hand man and did a lot of the legwork for the rodeo. She turned to greet him. Pablo was forty-five, part Mexican, part Indian, and originally from Arizona. He stood at the same height as her, but he had black hair and black eyes. Together they looked like salt and pepper shakers—very different, but complementary. They’d partnered up about five years ago in Tucson and had been working together ever since. Pablo’s family even traveled with them.
“What’s up?”
His gaze darted back and forth between them. He looked suspicious, damn his hide.
“It’s one of the bulls. The owner forgot to bring his papers. What do you want me to do?”
“Can the owner get someone to fax him the bull’s papers? We’ll accept faxed copies as long as they get us certified copies within a week of the rodeo. Give him two days.”
“Sure thing.” He paused as he was turning to head to his own truck. “Everything okay.”
No, it’s not. You just ruined my day of pleasure and lust with Captain Cowboy.
“Everything’s fine. Hank and I are old friends.”
She thought she heard him mutter “Una mentira” under his breath, but she ignored him. She frowned at Pablo’s continuing presence.
“Andale, Pablo. This is none of your beeswax. Get lost.”
He gave her one last concerned glance and walked away. When she looked back at Hank, he was grinning that lopsided smile again and had a pained expression in his eyes.
“Are you busy tonight?”
Wild horses, even big Clydesdales, couldn’t stop her from seeing him later. As it was, she was going to spend the rest of the day with wet panties.
“Nope. I’m all yours.”
He stepped closer and cupped his hand around her cheek. His thumb swept back and forth across her cheek, leaving echoes of shivers.
“I’ll be outside the Bar T trailer at five thirty.”
“Make it five o’clock,” she responded, shocked to hear her own breathiness.
He smiled again, then leaned down and kissed her so thoroughly she could probably recite his dental history. With one last suck on her bottom lip, he turned walked back to his black truck.
Anticipation began to thrum through her that she knew would last all day. She couldn’t wait for five o’clock to arrive.
Chapter Five
‡
IT TURNED OUT to be a shitty kind of day where everything that could go wrong did. With only six days left before the rodeo, each one promised to be as peaceful as a bronc ride. At least tomorrow was Sunday so she could have a day of rest. She planned to spend it in bed. With Hank.
At precisely four fifty-nine, TJ opened the door of the Bar T Rodeo trailer and peeked her head outside. She had used the bathroom inside the trailer to give herself a quick wash and brush her teeth. She munched on a mint as she looked for the familiar behemoth she was getting very attached to. Too attached. In fact, she’d even missed him today. She wanted to hear his rumbly voice call her Cinnamon Girl and to see his amazing grin.
TJ told herself it wasn’t disappointment she felt that he wasn’t there exactly on time. Most guys were at least a minute or two late. And she was early.
She debated whether or not to go back into the trailer to wait until an angry voice called her name.
“Hey, Maguire! Yeah, I’m talking to you!”
She stepped out of the trailer and saw Sam Asbury walking toward her. Sam was an old cowpoke who did things his way and no other way. He was a tall, wiry man, with Brillo-pad hair and a bow-legged stance that spoke volumes about how much time he spent in the saddle. His skin was like cracked leather, and he constantly had chaw in his mouth.
Sam was also the owner of the neighboring ranch and he’d put up three of the broncs for the event. His paperwork was a mess and he was mighty put out that she demanded he get it in order for the event. TJ hadn’t told Hank a lie when she said she did things by the book. The rodeo was her job and her life.
Her life? Was the rodeo her life? Was Hank right?
“Are you going to ignore me all night, Maguire? I’m talking to you!”
Sam’s angry face appeared in front of her. He was flushed and his neck wattle was quivering. To her disgust, he turned his head to the side for a moment and let loose a stream of tobacco juice. TJ hated chaw and the disgusting habits of those who put it in their mouths.
“Listen up, missy. There ain’t nothing wrong with my broncs or their paperwork. You need to just put yore stamp of approval on them horses and get on with it.”
He took a step closer and was now all of two feet in front of her. TJ wasn’t about to be intimidated.
“Mr. Asbury, I explained this to your foreman earlier. I need the entire history of those broncs, including dam and sire.”
“Bullshit! There ain’t never been no rules like that!”
TJ held back her anger with a tight rein. “Times change. Rules change. I follow them because that’s my job. These cowboys want to compete in the nationals. If the paperwork isn’t in order, then their points don’t count and they might be disqualified.”
Her own words came back to bite her in the ass. Is that what she’d done to Hank? Kept him from competing because of paperwork? She honestly didn’t remember since it had been a few weeks ago that she sent out the handful of disqualification letters. Was she that inflexible too?
Sam took another step closer. Now he was in her face. His breath stank worse than the smell of manure that clung to his shoes. People always assumed that because she was a woman, a little intimidation would get her to change her mind. Nothing could be further from the truth. It just served to glue her feet more firmly into the ground. Her anger was barking like a pit bull wanting to attack.
“Back off, Mr. Asbury.”
He brought up his hand and had started to waggle it in her face when she sensed a presence behind her. Right behind her. Without turning, she knew it was Hank. Sam looked way up into Hank’s face and flushed a deeper shade of red.
“Tell her, Hank. Paperwork ain’t what’s important. It’s the ride.”
“You’d best get along, Sam, before I get angry,” came his voice that revealed a tightly controlled anger. “It ain’t nice to talk to a lady like that.”
“Lady?” Sam snorted. “This ain’t no lady. It’s just TJ!”
Sam apparently saw something in Hank’s face after his last remark that put the fear of God into him. He muttered something about “frigging paperwork” and scuttled away.
This ain’t no lady. It’s just TJ!
It shouldn’t hurt. It really shouldn’t. She had heard it, and many other comments like it, so many times. She knew she wasn’t a lady. It shouldn’t hurt.
But it did.
Hank’s strong hands landed on her shoulders and began gently massaging the knots and kinks out of them.
“You didn’t need to interfere,” she said.
“I know,” he responded. “But Sam’s an ass. Always has been and always will be. I liked having the excuse to tell him to go scratch.”
TJ knew that wasn’t the truth, but she let him lie for her. Hank really was a good man. His hands were performing miracles on her shoulders.
Her anticipation had burbled away with her anger. Now, with Hank’s magic hands, it was coming back. With the speed of a freight train. Her nipples were popping out like pink jack-in-the-boxes and her panties were growing damp again. A pulse of excitement danced through her, leaving goose bumps all over.
“Are you ready to go?” he whispered in her ear.
All she could do was nod. Then he pushed her hair from her neck and planted a moist kiss at the base. The goose bumps started to do the tango down her skin.
“Lord, I can’t wait much longer, Tessa. Let’s get a really quick dinner, nothing sit-down, okay?”
“Burgers and fries. To go,” she croaked and started walking toward her truck.
*
THE DRIVE-THRU LINE wasn’t crowded, so they got their food in record time. Turned out they both liked orange soda and extra pickles.
The silence in the truck was ripe with an undercurrent of leashed passion. His whole body was pulsing to a beat controlled by his cock. All he wanted to do was pull over and yank her onto his lap. The food sat between them, untouched. The smell of French fries was almost overpowering. However, his hunger lay elsewhere.
It seemed to take an hour to get to the damn hotel. Although in this neck of the woods, it was more “motel” than “hotel”. This one was called Captain Clayton’s and sported a nautical theme (in Southern California, no less) with a lighthouse and a huge ship’s wheel out front.
TJ pulled in and parked her truck near her room. As she reached for the keys in the ignition, Hank was surprised to see her hand trembling. She didn’t seem like the type of person to be rattled. Perhaps she was as anxious as he was.
“Hungry?” he asked as he picked up the to-go sacks of food.
She glanced at the bags, then up into his eyes. The green in her eyes was shadowed in the light thrown by the lampposts. He could swear he read her thoughts and they closely aligned with his.
“Not for food,” she finally answered. Her normally husky voice was even deeper. What would it sound like when she was really aroused? It made his partial erection grow another inch or two.