His gaze settled on the stage and suddenly everything clicked into place like the latch on the gate to the Circle G. The odd questions, the searching looks, waiting for his reaction to being touched suddenly made sense. For the kind of money she was offering, he’d bet every penny of it he would have to get up on that stage.
Drawing in a deep breath he cursed silently, the air inside the bar smelled like fresh rain too. They weren’t hiring him to haul kegs; he was about to become their latest attraction! He lifted his hands and unbuttoned the top button. His fingers fumbled and beads of sweat formed at his temples. Better get used to it. Hell, there’d be no getting used to it.
The raptor-like gaze of the three women unnerved him, but hell, for the salary Jolene was promising him, he’d sell his soul to the devil if it’d save Grandpa’s legacy… their ranch. Her amber gaze collided with his, and he wondered if his soul was already lost.
As the last button slid free, he couldn’t bring himself to shrug out of the shirt. He felt so exposed standing there while the women in front of him watched him as if he was a prime cut of beef on today’s blue plate special. It sure as hell wasn’t the same as stripping down for one woman at a time.
Jolene’s gaze met his. “Thirty dollars an hour, plus tips, Tyler.”
Damn. His Celtic pride kicked in and their ancient family motto filled him: Aut Vincam, Aut Periam: I will either conquer or perish! He lifted one shoulder and let the shirt slide off. The collective gasp had him wondering if it was the thick ridge of scar tissue running along the line of his lower ribs or something else.
Then damn if the blonde didn’t lick her lips like she was a cat and he was a bowl of fresh cream. “You’d better see if he passes the last test,” she said with a glance at the bar. “Heck, even if he doesn’t, I’d snap him up, Jolene.”
The blonde walked around the bar to a door in the back, opened it, and yelled, “Gwen!”
A muffled reply sounded from below them. Just how many females worked at this bar?
“Are you ready for the last test?” Jolene asked.
Tyler’s gut told him to pick up his shirt and hightail it over to one of the fast food joints. They only paid one-third of Jolene’s offer, but at least he knew he could handle flipping burgers and the deep fryer. Well… maybe not the fryer, but he’d flipped burgers plenty of times for his brothers.
Indecision caught him off guard; it wasn’t part of his makeup. He’d never been in this kind of tight spot before, but Dylan and Jesse were counting on him and he wasn’t a coward. It wasn’t in the Garahan blood. Three generations of Texas Garahans had faced Indian attacks, droughts, more than one deluge, and a handful of range wars. He would stick it out… no matter what she wanted.
A six-foot tall blonde appeared in the doorway and sauntered toward him.
Jolene smiled. “Gwen,” she said slowly. “I’d like you to meet Tyler.” Turning toward Tyler, Jolene smiled and nodded to the blonde giant. With a sly smile, she purred, “Pick her up.”
A thousand questions raced through Tyler’s head, but not one of them had included picking up the Amazon standing in front of him. “Now?”
Everyone but Gwen nodded.
He sighed and moved to scoop her up off her feet, but the woman backed away from him, hands raised up to stop him. “Not like that.”
He stepped back and rubbed his now damp palms on his jean-clad legs. Were they making fun of him?
“I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
Jolene’s laugh was as light as the afternoon breeze off the pond at the Circle G. “If you just stand still, Tyler, Gwen knows what I mean.”
With a gleam in her eye, Gwen took a giant step forward and jumped. She reached for his neck with open arms and wrapped her legs around his waist, clinging like a burr to a horse’s hide.
He had just enough time to blink, brace himself, and pray his back would hold out. He’d unloaded a truckload of hay before cleaning up to drive out here.
She settled against him. Hoping he wouldn’t lose his grip, he slid his hands beneath her muscled backside.
Gwen leaned close and whispered in his ear, “Nice catch, cowboy.”
He was too stunned to speak.
“One more thing.” Jolene walked toward where he stood, legs braced apart, holding on for dear life, muscles screaming, tendons straining.
He hoped to hell he didn’t have to go haul in any full kegs of beer for his next test. Poke him with a fork; he was done!
“You can set Gwen down now.”
When he did as she asked, Gwen touched his cheek, smiled, and walked back toward the still open door.
Distracted and disturbed by what he’d just had to do, not quite sure what it proved, he didn’t see Jolene move until she was crowding him so close he could feel her breath on his chin and feel the tip of her fingernail as it tapped in the hollow of his throat.
He sucked in a breath and held it, waiting to see what else she’d ask him to do. He hated being at this woman’s mercy. Suck it up, boy. Garahans go down fighting!
Gee thanks, Grandpa!
Her gaze met his, and he sensed she knew he was fighting the urge to either step back or step forward. Holding himself as still as the scarecrow in the Circle G’s cornfield, Tyler waited.
She let her fingernail slide down his breastbone all the way toward his—Aw hell, she wouldn’t.
She laughed—a sexy, sultry sound—as if daring him to move. “Thirty dollars, plus tips.”
Thinking of the ranch and the sweat, blood, and tears three generations of Garahans had infused into the land, and not what he’d have to do to earn those tips, he froze. The sweat gathered at his temples began to trickle down the sides of his face, but he held his ground. He pictured his brothers as they rode hell-bent for leather toward the barn at the end of the day, arguing over whose turn it was to rustle up supper. He savored the memory of his mother pulling a huge turkey out of the oven during the holidays and his grandpa giving them all hell while smiling at the brothers with a gleam of pride in his eyes.
She dipped the tip of her nail in his navel and he jolted.
But he kept his hands at his sides and his face devoid of expression, even when she shocked the shit out of him, tucked her finger inside the waistband of his jeans, and yanked him flush against her saying the words he’d been both dreading and hoping to hear.
“You’re hired.”
Chapter 2
“Hey, Jesse, it’s me.” Tyler jammed his arm into one sleeve, switched the phone to his other ear, and repeated the movement, yanking his shirt back on.
“Did you get the job?”
Tyler rubbed at the ache in his temple. “Yeah—” Before he could say anymore, he heard Jesse yelling to Dylan, sharing the good news.
“When do you start?” his brother asked.
“Tonight at seven.”
“Good news, bro,” Jesse said. “Are you coming back to the ranch, or will you kill a few hours and wait in town?”
Tyler pushed his Stetson further back on his head so he could rub at the ache between his eyes. “I’ve got some forms to fill out.”
“Uh, Tyler?”
He heard the sudden change in his brother’s voice and should have realized his brothers would be worried about the money. Tyler had kept the grim reality to himself for too long and had had to lay their finances out on the table last night. The discussion that followed had been anything but brotherly.
“Yeah?”
“Will it be enough?”
Thinking of the way Jolene traced the tip of her fingernail from his throat to his navel, he gritted his teeth. “Yeah… just.”
“OK. Good.”
“See you around three o’clock.”
“Dylan and I’ll get up earlier and feed the stock; you can sleep in.”
Tyler swore. “I don’t need you to do my chores.”
“Hell,” Jesse bit out. “You’re the one taking on the night job. It’s the least we can do until you’re used to h
auling kegs and bending over all night stocking shelves.”
“Jess—” Tyler hesitated. How could he tell his brother he wasn’t going to be hauling any beer?
“Yeah?”
The image of Jolene’s flame-bright hair and amber eyes mocked him, something that didn’t sit well with him. Maybe he wouldn’t have to say anything. He might find another job and only have to put up with this one for a few days. At least the money would help tide them over in the meantime.
But a barefooted, curvaceous redhead with a smear of chocolate on her cheek had him stopping to think things through. He wanted Emily—but he wanted to get to know her too. Despite the fact that he’d been without a woman for almost three months, he hadn’t been hit this hard with need or want since his first taste of love at fourteen. There was no way he was going to miss out on the chance to get to know Emily better before sweet-talking her into bed. In order to do that he’d have to give the women of The Lucky Star a chance.
“Nothing,” he finally said. “See you in the morning.”
He snapped his phone closed and stared at it. What the hell had he gotten himself into? He should have taken O’Malley’s offer six months ago and sold the ranch.
Who would tend the family graves? Where would your brothers live?
Damn he was getting tired of hearing voices in his head. “We could add a clause to the contract of sale about me tending the graves,” he mumbled pushing away from where he’d been leaning against his pickup. “And my brothers could damn well live in the back of their trucks for all I care.”
There’s only one truck left that runs, the bodiless voice insisted.
Stalking back to The Lucky Star, Tyler wondered how the hell he’d make it through the next few hours let alone his entire shift.
***
Tyler walked in and noticed the group of females staring at him. Uneasy with the attention, he removed his hat and held it at his side.
“I’m glad you’re back.” Jolene said.
“You sound as if you’re surprised I came back.”
Jolene shrugged. “Let’s just say it took you longer than expected to make a phone call.”
She stared at him and wondered if he’d be as much trouble as the last cowboy wannabe they’d hired. Clay had spent way too much time on the phone sweet-talking one of the handful of women he juggled. They’d all been regulars at the club and the reason why Jolene now had her ironclad set of rules.
Added to her other worries, the prospect of training yet another dancer had her frustration growing. She hoped he knew how to move. “Any questions about tonight?”
Tyler looked away and his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down.
Was he nervous? Who’d have figured a big old hunk of man like the one standing in front of her would be nervous about dancing? Watching the hint of color slashing his cheekbones, she wondered if stripping for an audience was the real problem.
“The routines are easy,” she said, hoping to get to the heart of his worry in order to move past it.
“I’m not worried about that.” He looked down at the tips of his worn and dusty boots.
“All right. Let’s go over the house rules.”
His head snapped up, and his dark eyes riveted to hers. “Rules?” He clenched his jaw and waited.
Now what? She didn’t have time to deal with the cowboy’s attitude now. She had to sit down with Emily and go over their receipts from last month, and they still had to decide whether or not they were going to cave in and pay the damned Rotary Club.
Centering herself, she rubbed her temples and drew in a deep cleansing breath. Looking right at Tyler, she held up her index finger.
“The customers pay to see a show, and we give them one. So unless you’re bleeding or unconscious, I expect you to show up on time.”
He nodded and she held up a second finger. “The customer is always right.”
He looked like he wanted to say something but wisely kept his thoughts to himself.
Jolene held up a third finger. “They can look and touch but not grab or grope your package.”
“My what?”
Outrage had Tyler’s eyes bugging out and his face flushing crimson. Jolene tilted her head to one side and marveled at the fact that the man was actually blushing.
Shaking her head, she held up a fourth finger. “If you’ve got an itch,” she told him, “scratch it on your own time and not in the ladies’ room or men’s room.”
His eyes glassed over.
“Don’t forget the hallway!” Jennifer added. “Those butt-cheek prints were really tough to clean off the mirrors.”
Jolene had to agree. “We had to use two types of glass cleaner the last time one of the customers flashed her double Ds and waved a fistful of fifties in Clay’s face.”
Tyler opened his mouth to speak but no sound emerged. He nodded silently.
Satisfied that their newest employee knew and understood the rules, Jolene said, “Well if you don’t have any questions, we’ve got a lot to teach you in just under two hours. Do you know how to two-step, Tyler?”
He nodded.
“Ever dirty dance?”
Tyler shook his head. “No, ma’am.” All business, her newly hired dancer ran his hand through his hair and confessed, “At least not in public.”
“All right then, Natalie,” Jolene said. “Let’s see if Tyler fits into Clay’s costume.”
“What kind of costume?”
“Don’t you worry none, cowboy,” Jolene purred, staring at his zipper. “All of your assets will be covered.”
Chapter 3
Emily sat down hard on the steps. She’d never had the wind knocked out of her looking at a tall, dark-eyed cowboy before. Then again, she’d been involved with a string of losers; the latest one had pulled the rug out from under her… go figure.
Shaking her head, she watched her cousin do what she did best… grab a hold of the reins and take charge.
Watching Tyler’s expression and the way his color changed from grim to green, she felt sorry for him. She couldn’t help it… she liked him. There was an innate kindness that she’d connected with right off. When he looked as if he’d swallowed sour milk, she realized that her cousin must be telling him the rules.
Thinking she might have to go to his rescue, Emily strained to hear their conversation.
“My what?”
From the tone of his voice and the way Tyler’s face flushed crimson, Jolene must have mentioned the “look but don’t touch” rule to him. That comment usually had that reaction from the dancers they’d interviewed for the job. Some walked away, not willing to follow Jolene’s rules. Too bad for them the last dancer had agreed but hadn’t kept his word. She had a feeling the gorgeous hunk of man she’d been blindsided by would. Emily hadn’t been tempted by a good-looking man in six months. She didn’t want to be now. Looking at the way Tyler kept backing up, she knew she wouldn’t have a choice. She yearned to be alone with him, talk to him, sit on a front porch swing with him… hell, they didn’t have a swing, let alone a front porch.
Sighing, she shifted and the bowl slipped in her grasp. She caught it before it hit the stairs, giving away the fact that she hadn’t left. Heck, she couldn’t; there was something about the dark-eyed cowboy that pulled at her, tugging at her heartstrings. Maybe it was the hint of desperation—he needed the job—or maybe his willingness to look at their sink. He was polite and easy on the eyes.
The image of Tyler catching Gwen was stuck in her mind and had her fingers fumbling, nearly dropping the bowl a second time. Damn but that was one fine-looking cowboy. Her blood began to hum, and her skin positively tingled remembering how tightly he’d hung on to Gwen for dear life. Her mouth went dry wondering how it would feel if his hands were cupping her bottom. The tingles spread and the humming built to a deafening roar as she remembered how he’d spread his legs to help handle the weight he held with his beautifully bulging biceps. Oh my God, he was hot.
Fanning her face, to c
ool her overheated flesh, she ran the tip of her tongue along her lips, catching a speck of chocolate. Savoring her favorite flavor, she let her imagination run wild, the focus being the tall, dark-haired hunk of cowboy tied to her bedposts, a bowl of chocolate, and her eager tongue. No! Step back from the fantasy and the dark-eyed, dreamy man, and no one would get hurt. She couldn’t let her heart get involved again; it had been too painful the last time it had been stomped on and ground into the dirt.
“I don’t have time for romance,” she grumbled, scooping up a spoonful of batter. Licking her lips, she indulged in her favorite weakness, the chocolaty goodness, and dipped the spoon back into the bowl. Three spoonfuls later, she slowly smiled. “But I might be able to squeeze in some time for a walk on the wild side.” The tall, dark, and studly cowboy looked interested enough to make it worth her while and one hell of a ride.
Emily slowly got to her feet. She needed to get back upstairs to one of her back-up boxes of brownie mix. Baking always cleared her mind. There was something soothing about mixing ingredients together, while her mind wandered and her hands were busy. She could usually work through most of her worries by the time the batter was smooth and ready to be poured into the pan.
A little while later, she’d successfully outwitted the mixer by using good old-fashioned elbow grease and her favorite wooden spoon, and she had two batches of warm and gooey goodness cooling on the countertop to show for it. “Time to get cleaned up and see how tall, dark, and handsome is doing downstairs.” Mind clear, she was ready to see if she could distract the man she hadn’t been able to stop thinking about. She showered quickly so she could spend more time on her makeup and deciding what to wear. Twisting her hair up off her neck, she secured it in place with a hair clip and studied her reflection. “If only I could do something about these freckles.”
Knowing it was her only option, she dragged out the mineral powder makeup she used liberally to hide the offending spots sprinkling her cheeks and nose. A swipe of blush across her cheekbones, touch of mascara, and thin line of purple on her lids, and she was ready for lip gloss.
Tyler Page 2
