Boots and Twisters

by Myla Jackson

  “Good.” He flung the shirt to the side, grabbed both of her wrists and pinned them to the wall above her head. “Perhaps you could tell me why you were hiding in the poker room, and why you were back here where only employees are allowed. I don’t think I’ve seen you working here before.” He pinned her body to the wall with his, not giving her room to raise her knee fast and hard enough to hit him where it counted.

  She squirmed, fighting against his strong hold, the heat of his body against hers doing funny things to her insides. It had been a long time since a man had bested her and it infuriated her as well as sparked something in her that she’d thought long dead.

  Lust.

  And damned if he didn’t smell good. Like saddle leather and a subtle aftershave. She loved the smell of leather and aftershave. It made her feel all girlie. With a gasp, she fought harder. “Let go of me. I was looking for Audrey Anderson.”

  “If you’re here to rob her, you’ll have to go through everyone else in the place to get to her.” His grip tightened.

  “I’m not here to rob Audrey or anyone else.”

  “Then what do you want with her?”

  “None of your business.”

  “You made it my business when you snuck into our poker game.”

  Lucky chewed on her lip, hating that he held her so securely and hating even more that her body was reacting to his leaning against hers. “I have something to tell her.”

  “Tell me and I’ll pass it on to her.”

  She straightened, her lips pressing into a tight line. She didn’t like being manhandled—even if he smelled good enough to lick—and worse, she didn’t want to confess her crime to this man. “I’ll tell her what I came to say when I see her.”

  “Tell you what…I’ll let the bouncer decide.”

  Lucky’s eyes widened. As much as she disliked being detained by this man, the bouncer was a thousand times scarier. “I need to see Audrey. It’s very important. And the bouncer wouldn’t let me.”

  “Greta Sue won’t let you? Why?”

  “Because…” She searched for a good reason other than the truth. Shame made her cheeks burn. She didn’t want to admit she was broke and couldn’t afford the cover charge to get in. “Because. Damn it!”

  “Not good enough.”

  Anger, shame, desperation roiled up and exploded. “I couldn’t pay the cover charge to get in the front door. There! Are you satisfied?” Her bottom lip trembled and she bit into it to keep it steady. She’d never been down and out before in her life and it galled her no end. “Look, just let me talk to her and I’ll leave as soon as I can.” She’d have to walk, but she’d leave just to get away from the man and the way he made her heart pound like horses hooves on hard-packed dirt in an all-out gallop.

  “Look, I’m feeling generous tonight. I’ll get you that meeting with Audrey.”

  Hope surged, along with the dread of having to tell the owner of the bar she’d run her truck into a ditch. “You will?”

  He nodded. “On one condition.”

  Her brows narrowed. She knew it was too good to be true. People always wanted something. Nothing ever came for free, and normally she was just fine with that, except now. She was broke. “What condition?”

  “One kiss.” His gaze shifted to her lips.

  She struggled against his hold on her hands. “No.”

  He let go of one hand and dragged her toward the rear exit with the other.

  She dug in her boot heels but got no traction from the smooth wood floors. He out-weighed her, out-muscled her and she could do nothing to stop him. Stubborn resignation set in. What good did it do to fight? He refused to relent and she was going nowhere. Lucky quit fighting and followed.

  He opened the door and waved a hand toward the back parking area. “I suggest you take it up with Greta Sue at the front entrance.”

  Lucky assumed that because she hadn’t fought him the last few steps, he thought she’d go willingly. When he let go of her hand, she let her shoulders sag as if defeated, but she was far from it.

  “You’re missing your chance to meet Audrey.” His brows rose invitingly. “It won’t cost you much. Just one little kiss.”

  Her chin tipped up. “When I kiss a man, it’s because I want to, not because I need a favor. And frankly, I find nothing kissable about you.” Her gaze traveled his length from tip to toe and heat flared, belying her words. There were far too many kissable things about this man, except for his inflated ego and his unrealistic views on a perfect woman. “Now, if you’ll excuse me.”

  He stepped back to let her pass.

  She stuck out her hand, offering to shake his. Hoping he’d take it so that she could use the one trick she knew to subdue a randy cowboy. When he set his hand in hers, she twisted and yanked his hand up behind his back and between his shoulder blades, then planted her boot on his cute ass and shoved him through the doorway, slamming it shut behind him.

  She spun so fast she almost fell. Then she ran in the opposite direction, hoping to get lost in the crowd before tall, dark and arrogant could catch up with her. Then maybe she’d find Audrey and break the bad news to her.

  The door behind her slammed open, but she didn’t turn to see who was there, knowing she only had seconds to make good her escape.

  Coming from behind the bar, Lucky spied the bartender, a pretty woman with auburn hair, wearing black leather like she meant it.

  “Excuse me,” Lucky shouted over the rabid crowd of screaming women.

  A man danced on the stage. One with long blond hair and a killer body dressed in nothing but a G-string.

  Lucky recognized him as the man she’d met in the back. Cory, he’d said was his name. His body was perfect, one she’d love to stay and watch, if only she wasn’t facing a huge bill to have the owner’s truck fixed with money she didn’t have. How did she manage to get in situations like this?

  The bartender slapped five mugs of beer onto a tray before she turned to Lucky. “What can I get you?” she asked.

  “Audrey Anderson?”

  The bartender nodded toward the stage where a woman introduced the blond-haired man to the audience as Cory McBride. “She’s the emcee, right now.”

  Lucky groaned. To get to her, she had to wade through tightly packed women who appeared to have staked their claims on their own pieces of the floor, unwilling to let anyone else get closer. They fought to place bills in the man’s G-string and get their opportunity to grope.

  Lucky snorted. This was not the scene for her. She wanted a man who didn’t have to dance for a living. One who worked with animals. Feeling more comfortable around animals than people, Lucky was far out of her element in the packed barroom. But it couldn’t be helped. She had to get to Audrey and let her know what had happened.

  Trying not to step on anyone, she pushed her way through the crowd, taking elbows to the gut, her boots stomped on by other cowboy boots and some stilettos. All the while she kept a watch out for the bouncer.

  The tighter the bodies pushed up against her, the shallower her breathing became. She’d never been good in tight places. Claustrophobia, her daddy had called it. Her heart pattered against her ribs, and her palms sweat. A moment before Lucky would have passed out, the pretty strawberry blonde wearing a pair of short shorts and red cowboy boots stepped down from the stage.

  “Are you all right?” she asked, touching Lucky’s arm.

  Her vision graying around the edges, Lucky swayed and didn’t see the bouncer until she grabbed her from behind. “How’d you get in here?” she demanded.

  “Greta Sue,” the bar owner said. “She’s not well. Let’s get her out of this crush.”

  “I’ll get her out. All the way out of the building. Plenty of air to breathe outside. She didn’t pay the cover charge.”

  The strawberry blonde smiled. “It’s okay. I’ll cover for her this time.”

  “But, Ms. Anderson, she snuck in somehow. That’s trespassin’.”

  “It’s okay. I’m sur
e she has a good reason.” Ms. Anderson led her to the edge of the jostling crowd and already Lucky could breathe better.

  Lucky held her breath as Greta Sue pointed at her, her gaze narrowing, warning her not to make any sudden moves.

  The strawberry blonde smiled and held out a hand to Lucky. “I’m Audrey Anderson, owner of the Ugly Stick Saloon. How may I help you?”

  Her voice was warm, friendly and so likable it made Lucky want the floor to swallow her whole. Why couldn’t Audrey Anderson have been old, ugly and mean-spirited? Breaking the bad news to this sweet woman made her feel even more of a heel.

  Lucky took her hand and shook it, cringing inwardly, at a loss as to how to explain how she’d managed to wreck both her own truck and that of the pretty woman standing in front of her with the friendly smile and the firm handshake.

  She cleared her throat and blurted, “I have some bad news.”

  Audrey’s brows knit and she stepped closer. “Jackson. Is he all right?”

  Lucky frowned. “Who’s Jackson?”

  “My boyfriend. I assumed the bad news was about him. Are you telling me it’s not?”

  With a shake of her head, Lucky waved her hand toward the doorway. “It’s best I show you.”

  Greta Sue gave Lucky the stink-eye. “You hurt one hair on Ms. Anderson’s head…” Audrey Anderson had her share of folks looking out for her. A stab of longing tugged at Lucky’s heart. It would be nice to be loved that much by so many people.

  Lucky raised her hands in surrender. “I’m not going to hurt her.”

  “Damn right you’re not.” Greta Sue followed them out the door. “I’m coming with you.”

  Great. More witnesses to Lucky’s destruction and mortification.

  “Tell me what happened.” Audrey walked beside Lucky, her feet moving briskly in the night air, her bright red cowboy boots crunching gravel.

  “I stalled out in the parking lot and didn’t have any help moving my truck, so I pushed it. And well…” Lucky stopped where Audrey’s red truck used to be parked.

  The strawberry blonde’s brows dipped together. Her gaze moved from the empty spot to glance around the parking lot. “Didn’t I park my truck here? For that matter, I don’t see it anywhere.”

  Lucky bit down on her lower lip, touched the Ugly Stick owner’s arm and pointed to the ditch. “It’s in there.”

  Audrey stepped up to the edge of the embankment and stared down at the shapes of the two trucks wedged into the ditch at angles. As recognition dawned, she gasped. “That’s my new truck!”

  Trent couldn’t believe a girl had bested him. Isaac, Nick and Jackson would all have laughed had they witnessed his humiliation. Strange that the embarrassment and fact that he’d been tricked only made him that much more determined to get that kiss.

  No sooner had he been shoved out the door, he turned, caught the door before it closed and stormed back inside, only to see the tall, slender, cool drink of cowgirl water slip into the darkness of the bar. Well, hell. It was Ladies Night and Audrey had given them strict instructions to limit their movements to the employee-only area of the bar or risk being pinched, kissed, squeezed and fondled by a couple hundred horny women.

  Trent debated following her, but he’d heard of how Jackson had been stripped to his skivvies once on Ladies Night and he had no desire to be exposed in such a way.

  So he didn’t get his kiss. What harm could one more woman add to a room full of raging estrogen?

  He returned to the poker game and settled in, his mind on the cowgirl, not his hand. No sooner had Jackson dealt the cards, Nick got a call to tow two trucks.

  “Audrey, is that you?” Nick asked.

  Jackson frowned. “Trouble?”

  “Two trucks in the ditch out front.” Nick tossed his cards on the table and rose. “I’ll be right there.”

  “Two trucks?” Trent’s brother, Isaac, asked. “Things must be hoppin’ on Ladies Night.”

  “What’s going on? The strippers try to make a run for it?” Trent joked, wondering if the woman he’d let go into the bar had anything to do with the trucks in the ditch. A jab of guilt twisted in his belly. He should have let Audrey know she’d had a trespasser.

  “Sorry, guys,” Nick said. “You’re welcome to stay and play, but I’ve got work to do. Seems Audrey’s was one of the trucks that got knocked into the ditch.”

  “Audrey’s?” Jackson jumped to his feet. “She wasn’t in it, was she?” Jackson checked his cell phone. “Fuck. I had my ringer off. Audrey’s been tryin’ to get a hold of me. She called three times.” He punched the screen on his phone and held it to his ear.

  “No, someone else’s vehicle pushed it into the ditch. Come on. Let’s check it out. I could use a hand getting them out.”

  “Maybe we should all go check it out.” Trent tossed his hand onto the table and pushed to his feet.

  “I guess we’re all going, since it’s kind of hard to play one-handed poker.” Isaac stood and stretched. “Besides, with a bunch of horny women leaving the Ugly Stick, we might get lucky tonight.”

  “I’ve been in the middle of that mob before. Scared the jitters out of me,” Jackson admitted. “Let’s go ‘round the back to the front and find Greta Sue. She can run interference.”

  “She can’t guard us all. Frankly, I don’t want her to. I’ll take my chances with the ladies.” Isaac rubbed his hands together. “I could use a little distraction after having my butt kicked at poker.”

  “Must be the Jameson luck,” Nick said.

  Isaac chuckled. “Remind me not to play poker with Jackson and Nick. I’m completely out of my league here.”

  “We both are.” Trent jerked his head toward the door. “Come on.”

  Jackson feathered through the handful of bills he collected from the table and stuffed them in his pocket. “You two are more than welcome to come throw money at us anytime.”

  Nick headed for his tow truck he’d parked at the rear of the building. Tonight was a full moon. People always got crazy at the full moon. Otherwise, the mechanic would have ridden his motorcycle.

  Jackson climbed into the passenger seat of the tow truck’s cab.

  Trent and Isaac slowly walked around the building.

  “Did you put that ad in the paper for a ranch hand?” Isaac asked.

  Trent shook his head. “I put a flyer up at the feed store and here at the Ugly Stick.”

  “I took a whack at an ad for the newspaper, we’ll see what we can get. We have more work than we can shake a stick at and no relief until Dusty gets back.”

  Dusty, their ranch foreman, was out recuperating from knee replacement after having been thrown one too many times by Thunder, the meanest horse they had.

  “Yeah, cattle to round up, horses to train and pastures to cut. Should have hired someone a month ago.”

  “Whose idea was it anyway for us to do our own ranchin’? We have the money to pay someone else,” Trent reminded Isaac.

  “I can hear Dad’s voice in my head. You’re gettin’ too big for your britches, boy.” Isaac dug his thumbs in his belt loops and rocked back on his boot heels with a deep scowl, just like their father wore when he was delivering a lecture on the sins of laziness. Isaac’s frown turned around and he grinned.

  Trent didn’t. Their taciturn father had backhanded him more than once, and he’d sworn never to return to the Triple J Ranch outside of Temptation, Texas. He hadn’t come back until he’d gotten news from his brother that Old John Jameson had died of a heart attack, leaving his two-thousand-acre spread to his boys.

  If he’d had his way, Trent would have sold the ranch and given the proceeds to the Wounded Warriors organization or some other worthy cause. But Isaac hadn’t wanted to give it up. He’d felt some sort of connection to the place.

  Hell, he’d been their father’s favorite and could do no wrong. The ranch probably held good memories for him.

  Now they both lived there and worked the ranch with their own hands. Although Tren
t had never wanted to keep the ranch, he’d never been closer to his brother, and he was starting to work out his anger toward his father. But it was a struggle to keep the ranch going when he had full-time commitments as an oilrig architect. And the time spent ranching had given him a little more understanding and grudging respect for his late father.

  Isaac had insisted they do the work themselves, telling him it would keep them humble when their bank accounts were overflowing and they could have anything they wanted.

  Trent wasn’t afraid of hard work, but they needed help to keep the ranch up. The fences alone took all their time, mending and restringing wire to keep the cattle from straying. And the horses needed exercise and training, and the hay needed cutting.

  Sure, they had a foreman who ran the place when they were away on business, but even he needed help while they were gone. Now that Dusty was out for several months, they realized just how much he’d had on his plate.

  Yeah, they could use an extra pair of hands and the sooner the better.

  In the meantime, his younger brother still had great expectations of finding a woman to love.

  Not Trent. As a twenty-year-old, he’d thought he was in love with an older woman in her late twenties, only to find out she’d been lying to him, cheating on him with a man who could afford to buy her jewelry and fancy dates.

  Since then, he hadn’t trusted a woman and never went past two dates with one, determined to keep them at a distance.

  “You gonna help get the trucks out of the ditch?”

  “I suppose.” Trent glanced at Isaac. “Go on, see if you can rescue a damsel in distress from the perils of a rowdy Ladies Night at the Ugly Stick. I’m sure one would happily take you home to tuck her into bed.” His thoughts returned to the sandy-blond-haired cowgirl who’d almost busted his nose. Some of his parts, besides his nose, still throbbed at her image seared in his mind.

  She hadn’t been the prettiest woman he’d ever seen, but she was definitely intriguing. He wondered if she’d ever found Audrey.

  He also wondered if he’d see her again. Used to being chased by women, Trent found the trespasser more than intriguing, considering she was the first woman who hadn’t been too interested in kissing him.