by Em Petrova
As they were loading up their gear and horses, West approached, arms out and a big grin on his face. Like all the brothers, they had similar characteristics. Same nose, square jaws. But West’s hair was a bit lighter. As a kid he’d been full blond but darkened over the years.
Pounding Buck and then Asher on the back, West offered congratulations. “Hey Ash, I’m supposed to let you know that Wynonna has your girls.”
Buck’s brows pinched together. “What’s wrong with Channing?” She’d been doing too much lately, and the strain was getting to her. As soon as possible he was putting her to bed. Preferably in a fancy hotel in a king-sized bed.
West barely glanced at Buck when he responded with, “I don’t know. She asked Wyn to keep them for a bit. I’m just the messenger.”
Asher asked West about the next tie-down roping event, giving Buck a reason to escape. He hurried across the parking lot toward the motel. After their rendezvous behind the shrubbery at the rest stop, she’d been smiling. But in the truck she’d grown quiet. He’d chalked it up to her being shy around the cameras but maybe he was wrong.
He rapped on the door and waited. When she didn’t answer, dread took hold of him. What if she’d left with one of his brothers without telling him? He was getting damn sick of her cut-and-run routine. He pounded the door one more time, when it flew open.
“Jesus, Buck, is somebody dead?”
“No.”
“Then why are you trying to break my door down?” She looked tired after wrangling the Franklin rugrats, but the lines around her mouth were deeper.
He pushed past her and jerked his chin toward the door, indicating she should close it. She muttered something that sounded like, “King Calhoun has spoken,” but he didn’t comment.
“Channing, what’s going on with you?”
“Nothing. I’m just packing to go home.”
He looked around at the room they’d shared last night. Her suitcase still spilled clothes and her lacy camisole was hanging off the back of a chair. “Doesn’t look like it to me,” he said.
She ran her fingers through her hair. “Guess I need to get better at it.”
“Darlin’, you’re lying to me. Sit.” He pointed at the rumpled bed. When she leveled him with her glare, he added, “Please.”
Once she did, he crouched before her and took her hands. “Tell me the truth. You’ve been tense since after the rest stop.”
She gave a short, feminine snort, her lips curling in the ghost of a smile that vanished so fast he wondered if he’d imagined it. Seconds ticked by but she didn’t speak.
“Channing. If it’s me…” God, this hurt to even think it let alone speak the words. He braced himself. “If pretending everything is fine between us is too much, I’ll tell production that our engagement is off.” Even as he said it, he rested a finger possessively over the ring she’d put back on for the sake of a contract.
Tears filled her eyes. “No, Buck. I mean, I don’t know. It’s all really confusing, but it’s not the engagement or you.”
He held his breath, only slightly relieved. If it was him, he could control it. But he had no control over the other problem in her life—Luke needed to clean up his own mess and stop involving his sister. Actually, Buck did have some control there. He could pay her brother a little visit and warn him off Channing.
A tear rolled down her smooth cheek, breaking his damn heart. He caught it with his thumb and brushed it away. Cradling her face, he said, “Darlin’, please tell me.”
“It’s Luke.”
“Of course.” Dammit, Buck was going to have to haul out his branding iron and take care of the little fucker.
Her gaze flew to his. “I-I think the debtors hacked my bank account looking for money.”
He launched to his feet. “What?”
“I got a call from the bank saying there was suspicious activity. At first I thought it might be a random thing. But now I’m sure it’s because of Luke. Buck…I need that money from this filming. I don’t have anything left to sell. I don’t have a job!”
“He needs to work and get his own ass out of the mess he created.”
Channing stood and put distance between them, her arms folded over her middle. “He does have a job and he’s doing all he can. But they need the money now.”
“How much.”
She named a sum that made his eyes roll back in his head. What kind of fool would lose that kind of money? He passed a hand over his face. It didn’t matter now—it was too late. He owed it, and he’d dragged Buck’s fiancée into the thick of it.
“I’ll pay it.” His jaw was tight, almost as if trying to keep him from speaking the words.
“What? No way, Buck. You earned that money and you need it or Ennis will—”
He took two steps to reach her, bringing her against his chest. She was as tightly-strung as a rope around a steer’s horns. “I’ve made up my mind. Let’s get you free and we’ll think about the future more clearly.”
Meaning I’m finished pretending we’re getting married. I’m marrying you no matter what.
With a huff of relief, she twined her arms around his neck and held on. He buried his face against her neck and breathed in that pink Himalayan salt and grapefruit body wash she preferred. Tenderness choked him. Closing his eyes, he simply held her fast to him until her trembling eased.
He’d made the right decision for him at this moment in time—his brothers and sister would just have to accept that as the reason why he didn’t have his share of the money.
“I can’t let you do this, Buck. Your ranch…”
“Shh. You’re not a Calhoun yet but we take care of our own first.”
* * * * *
What did he mean? Channing’s mind spun. They all considered her part of the family. Maybe he was just in the same mindset.
But…what did she believe now? She loved Buck more than ever. They’d been getting along so much better and he was giving her the attention she’d always desired. But had he really changed or was this all for the sake of the reality show?
She needed time away to think.
Pulling out of his embrace, she wiped her eyes. “Thank you for this. I promise as soon as I get my chunk of the show money, I’ll give it to you.”
His gaze darkened and he opened his mouth as if to argue but shut it again. “We’ll see.” The way he was looking at her was far too familiar to her. He wore that soft expression that melted her into a puddle. “Channing, about the engagement—”
A rap on the door jerked them apart. He groaned and lifted his head, swinging toward the door. “Dammit,” he muttered.
She scooted around him, careful not to brush his body because if she did, they’d end up ignoring the summons and be rolling in the sheets until dawn. As she reached the door, several more loud knocks shook the cheap metal. She whipped it open to find all the Calhouns and half the crew crowded there.
“Where’s the party?” she asked, hoping it wasn’t her room. Lane and Ridge held six-packs and several of the others clutched bottles wrapped in brown paper.
Buck’s heat seared her back as he came up behind her. She resisted the urge to lean against him or rub against him like a cat. His erection was evident, the bulge skimming her buttocks. Her heart tapped out of rhythm.
“Since the Calhouns cleaned up in the last two events, we’re celebrating. Now grab your cast iron stomachs and c’mon,” Ryder said.
This was definitely not normal for level-headed Ryder to lead such a party, but they did have something to celebrate.
“Give us a minute,” Buck rumbled so close to her ear that her skin prickled.
“Oh no, bro. If you close that door we won’t see you for days.”
Channing’s face warmed with a blush she knew was being filmed from several angles.
Ryder reached into the room and hooked Buck around the head, wrangling him outside.
“Hey, Ryder, maybe you should change events. I’ll ride the bulls and you wrestle the
steers,” Lane quipped.
Wynonna pushed past her brothers, who were scuffling now, and grabbed Channing. “Let’s go, sweetheart. I got us a bottle of tequila.”
“Oh God.” Last time she and Wynonna had shared a bottle of tequila, they’d been saluting their father with a good old-fashioned wake. Channing had no recollection of the events afterward. According to the family, she’d been pretty hilarious, saying funny things and insisting they all dance with her. Apparently she had something in common with their ma—liquor got her limbs moving.
But if she got drunk now, who knew what she’d spout. She dug in her heels. “I’d better not. I might have to help Asher—”
Wynonna’s slanted eyes tipped at the corner, following her lips. “Asher took his girls and went on home. You don’t have any more excuses. C’mon.”
Channing glanced down at her attire. Skinny jeans, boots and one of Buck’s T-shirts knotted at the shoulder. It hung off one shoulder, and she wasn’t even wearing a bra. Her hair and makeup were far from camera-ready. But after a couple shots of tequila, I won’t care.
“You’re stunning as always,” Wynonna argued.
Channing met Buck’s gaze and he gave a nod. For what reason? Did he mean he’d be there and keep control of her or was he implying they had no choice and they had to come with his siblings?
He’d been about to say more before the knock on the door. She’d like to know what.
“Fine we’ll go.”
A cheer went up. She was tugged outside and the door slammed shut. The whole party moved across the parking lot toward the vehicles that had been parked in a ring. Tailgates were down. The whole set seemed staged, but once they reached the destination and everyone had a drink in hand, she learned that this was the before-party. The warm-up. They were going out on the town.
Groaning, Channing brought the bottle to her lips and tipped it back. Several burning swallows later, she came up for air to find Buck staring at her. His gaze intense, his mouth set into a hard line.
“C’mere, cowboy.” She looped her arms around his neck and kissed him.
“Jesus,” he murmured, kissing her back. Tongue swiping the interior of her mouth. His muscles straining as he angled his head and kissed her until she forgot her name. The little bit of alcohol hit her head immediately but when they broke apart, she still had enough presence of mind to smile into the camera.
“You two done?” West drawled. He pushed a beer into Buck’s hand. The Calhouns stood in the family circle—the one she’d always felt left out of—and raised their drinks. She stood shoulder-to-shoulder and hip-to-hip with Buck. Lifting her tequila, she said the sacred words with them.
“For you, Dad.”
They drank. As more alcohol slid down Channing’s throat, she looked from face to face, alive with joy. The Calhouns were all in a much different state of mind these days. Yes, that was something to celebrate.
And her brother would soon be clear and safe. Thanks to Buck.
As they moved in a group through the streets of San Antonio, searching for food, more drinks and fun, Channing was swept along. Buck’s hand on the small of her back was a solid comfort. Once he planted her on a barstool beside him, he ordered her some food.
She arched a brow but he just said, “You can’t drink on an empty stomach, for my own peace of mind.”
“Whatever that means,” she said with a flirty smile.
“It means I don’t want you puking all the way home.”
She stared him down until he added, “And I don’t want you saying or doing anything you’ll regret later. Besides, I don’t want you flirting with any of the guys.”
“You’re such a jerk, Buck.” Her words held no rancor, only affection.
“Because I want my woman only looking at me a certain way?” He leaned in until his breath washed over her lips.
Unable to form words, she nodded. A sandwich was placed before her and Buck straightened. As she looked on, munching her club sandwich, Buck toasted each win with his family. The way his throat worked as he swallowed his whiskey sent shudders through her.
“Give me a tequila,” she said to the bartender, pushing her food aside.
“Do a body shot off Buck,” someone called.
Their gazes locked. He gave the barest hint of a nod. Whether he was agreeing for the sake of the show or because he really wanted her lips on him, she had no idea.
“Shot, shot, shot!” his family chanted.
Using his ab muscles, Buck leaned back on the stool, hanging in midair, his head tipped and his throat extended.
She eyed the hollow under his Adam’s apple and wet her lips. Then she picked up her second shot and dribbled it on his tanned flesh. She barely registered the cameras around her or the rowdy yells of the Calhouns as her lips met his skin. She sucked the tequila off, her nipples hard and aching. Her pussy swollen and needy.
Before she could pull away, he gripped her nape and drew her lips up to his. He whipped himself upright and yanked her off the stool into his lap. They all drank. They drank to their ma. To the rodeo. To the production crew and the cattle on their ranch. Hell, at one point they raised a glass to the weatherman, who was calling for much-needed rain back in Oklahoma.
After only a few, Channing stopped ingesting any of the tequila. Her head was already spinning, and it was best to keep her wits about her. She didn’t want to slip up and tell Buck she loved him. That would only make things worse.
But cuddled in his lap, his arm solidly around her middle, she had a hard time separating herself from him as she had weeks before. She’d have one hell of a time walking away when the time came.
She looked at the faces of all the Calhouns she loved as if they were her own family. Hanging out with them like this would only make it harder for her to separate herself in her mind. Then she saw Wynonna’s big smile and wondered if this was their plan all along.
Buck tightened his hold on her and exchanged a smile with his sister.
Or Buck’s plan.
* * * * *
He had to get her alone before he burst his zipper with his erection. Buried deep in her, breathy moans fogging the air…
Hitching her higher on his lap, he settled his lips at her ear. “Let’s get out of here.”
She squirmed around to look at him. Her blue eyes were bright from the alcohol she’d had but she was very lucid. A flush rose high on her cheekbones. “Now?”
“We’ll come back if you want. But I need you.”
A shudder ran through her, and his cock stretched another millimeter. Glancing around, he noted the exit in relation to the film crew. Damn, they’d have to split up if they were going to make this happen.
“I’ll go out that door. You take the front.”
“A camera will follow me. What am I supposed to say?”
“Tell them you need a little air and he shouldn’t spoil his fun.” Everyone was having such a good time, it was unlikely anybody would prefer the hot Texas air to the air conditioning and atmosphere in the bar. Besides, West and Wynonna were at it again, having a drinking contest. Tequila and lime for Wynonna and straight up Kentucky bourbon for West.
Good. Let them deal with traveling with hangovers. They were more interesting to the camera crew than Channing getting some air.
She slid off his lap with a little nudge from him. Without a glance, she headed toward the exit. He didn’t look around at her.
“Where’s she going?” Ridge asked.
“Just getting some air.” Buck finished off his whiskey and got up too. “Gotta piss.”
Nobody followed him into the bathroom. When he reached the door, he pushed into the kitchen. A man and a woman looked up in surprise.
“I’m looking for the back door. I have a crazy woman following me,” he said.
They grinned and jerked thumbs toward the rear of the building. Thanking them with a tip of his hat, Buck headed out. As soon as he circled the building and found his beautiful blonde fiancée standing on the
sidewalk waiting for him, a possessive growl formed low in his throat.
“Who are you?”
He stopped and stared at her. Maybe she was drunk. “Come again?”
“You’re different. You never would have done this two months ago.”
She was right. Life had swallowed him, and he’d been solely focused on keeping the ranch and winning his next event to get money for that ranch. Reaching for her, he said, “I was an ass, Channing. I ignored you and you left me.”
But she stood right in front of him. He could win her back—this wasn’t over. All of a sudden he saw his path. He needed to make her understand that his life wasn’t complete without her and he believed she was happier being with him too. He’d seen her smile more since he’d begun to think differently.
He threw a glance at the door, expecting somebody to catch on to their act and come out with camera lights blazing. “Let’s go.” Grasping her hand, he hurried away from the bar. They’d barely reached the corner when he heard Wynonna’s laughter. Apparently they’d decided to do the pub crawl through San Antonio.
Rushing away, he noted Channing’s boot heels tapping twice as fast as his and slowed his pace. The sun was starting to set and he wished like hell he had her alone on the ranch. He needed that peace and maybe he’d be able to find the words to convince her to stay, to stop pretending they were a couple.
He pushed her up against a wall, his gaze snagging hers. “I want you, Channing.”
She curled her fingers into his shoulders. “I want you too, Buck.”
He didn’t think she’d caught his total meaning, but now wasn’t the time. Not when her soft breasts were pressed to his chest and her ripe lips were so near. He swooped in and claimed them. Power and lust surged through his body. With a mind of their own, his hips rocked into hers, trapping her. She cried out.
They were on the street. He eased her back into an alley, still kissing her with abandon. She clawed at his shirt buttons, her breathing coming heavier.
Passion flowed up from his fingertips. He wished for a big bed and a fat pillow to prop under her hips, tilting her ass up for him. He wanted in her ass.
