How to Kiss a Cowboy

by Joanne Kennedy

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  Copyright © 2015 by Joanne Kennedy

  Cover and internal design © 2015 by Sourcebooks, Inc.

  Cover art by Craig White

  Sourcebooks and the colophon are registered trademarks of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems—except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews—without permission in writing from its publisher, Sourcebooks, Inc.

  The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.

  Published by Sourcebooks Casablanca, an imprint of Sourcebooks, Inc.

  P.O. Box 4410, Naperville, Illinois 60567-4410

  (630) 961-3900

  Fax: (630) 961-2168

  www.sourcebooks.com

  Also by Joanne Kennedy

  Cowboy Trouble

  One Fine Cowboy

  Cowboy Fever

  Tall, Dark and Cowboy

  Cowboy Crazy

  Cowboy Tough

  How to Handle a Cowboy

  Contents

  Front Cover

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  Chapter 32

  Chapter 33

  Chapter 34

  Chapter 35

  Chapter 36

  Chapter 37

  Chapter 38

  Chapter 39

  Chapter 40

  Chapter 41

  Chapter 42

  Chapter 43

  Chapter 44

  Chapter 45

  Chapter 46

  Chapter 47

  Chapter 48

  Chapter 49

  Chapter 50

  Chapter 51

  Chapter 52

  Chapter 53

  Chapter 54

  Chapter 55

  Chapter 56

  Chapter 57

  Chapter 58

  Chapter 59

  Chapter 60

  Epilogue

  An Excerpt from How to Wrangle a Cowboy

  Chapter 2

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Back Cover

  To Mum, who taught me to love reading and let me read her racy romance novels when I was too young to understand the racy parts. You showed me that anything worth doing is worth doing well, and you loved me no matter how much I screwed up. This one’s for you!

  Chapter 1

  Suze Carlyle edged through the shadows at the far end of the Rodeo Days beer tent, praying she could make it back to her trailer before anyone noticed her. A hubbub at the bar made her pause, and when she saw the cause, she couldn’t help but smile.

  Brady Caine had arrived, strolling into the tent with a loose-hipped swagger that said “cowboy” as clearly as the worn spots on the seat of his jeans. Tall and tan, with rugged good looks and an easy smile, he barely had time to rest one hip on a bar stool before he was surrounded by a flock of pretty cowgirls who fluttered around him like hummingbirds squabbling over sugar.

  He had a woman under each arm and another in his lap before Suze had time to blink—a blond, a brunette, and a redhead. Did he do that on purpose, or what?

  Suze knew who the women were. Miss Wyoming, Miss Montana, and Miss Arizona. All three were perfectly coiffed, with curls spilling out from under their fashionably tilted hats. They wore jeans so tight it probably hurt to move, but their practiced smiles never wavered.

  Neither did Brady’s, though his smile was as real as the rest of his cowboy credentials. Most guys worried about something—a tough bull, a bad score, or getting nacho sauce on their shirt—but not Brady. Whether he was chatting up women, riding a rank bronc, or eating sloppy fair food, he was equally at ease.

  Watching him, Suze wished she could somehow absorb the magic that made him fit so securely into the world he’d chosen. Unless she was in the saddle, she always felt at least a little bit awkward and out of place.

  She wondered which woman he’d choose, but to her surprise, he was easing his way out of the three-way clutch. For a second, she caught a rare glimpse of panic in his eyes. The redhead had entwined herself around him so thoroughly he looked like a motherless calf tangled up in a barbed-wire fence.

  Suze looked down at her boot tips and smiled. She couldn’t help it. Sometimes she felt like she had a mean little devil inside her, because watching Brady Caine reject those rodeo queens made her feel good.

  But it wasn’t sheer meanness that made her feel that way. She and Brady had been friends when they were younger, and she hated to see him snagged by the wrong kind of woman.

  She gave herself a mental slap. She didn’t know what the right kind of woman was. Not for a man like that. She just wanted him to be happy, healthy, and…hers.

  A little alarm went off in her head. Danger. Stupid thought alert. Danger. Danger.

  She continued to skirt the dance floor, staying in the shadows until she slammed into Miss Arizona, who was heading for the ladies’ room in a huff. Excusing herself, Suze had almost made it to the exit when she was startled by a voice in her ear.

  “What are you smiling about?”

  Brady Caine. She was so shocked to see him, she told him the truth.

  “Those women,” she said. “They thought they’d caught you.”

  “Nope.” He smiled, his brown eyes warm and sweet as hot fudge. “They didn’t catch me. You did.”

  “I—what?”

  “You caught me. I watched you ride today.” He shook his head. “Man, oh man. Never saw a woman ride like that. You’re not scared of anything, are you?”

  She told her heart to stop beating faster. She told her face not to flush. She told herself not to admit she was scared of him, and of the way he made her feel.

  She told all the other parts of her body not to react too, but it was useless. Brady Caine made her shimmer inside. She didn’t know how to respond to the compliment, so she dug down deep inside herself and found a little sass left over from the day’s victory lap.

  “I don’t know how I caught you, ’cause I wasn’t fishing.” She struggled to keep a tremor out o
f her voice and pasted on a confident smile. “Why don’t you go unbreak the heart of one of those poor rodeo queens? I’m going home.”

  “I’ll walk you there.”

  How could she say no? He was just being nice. Nice, dammit.

  She knew Brady’s attention didn’t mean a darned thing. He thought he was being nice by talking to the girl in the baggy jeans and scuffed boots, the social misfit who didn’t know how to dress or flirt or sparkle like the other girls.

  So he’d go and make her feel special, like he always did, and when she was back at her trailer alone, she’d have to deal with all the foolish hopes and stupid dreams he’d left behind. Meanwhile, he’d move on and be nice to some other girl.

  It had taken years to learn that lesson, but she’d learned it well. She had no hopes and no dreams where Brady Caine was concerned—although there were a few fantasies left over from high school.

  When he’d looked at the rodeo queens, he’d seemed mostly interested in their shirt buttons. But he kept glancing at Suze’s face, and she was sure he could see what she was thinking.

  She chased those fantasies out of her head and undid an extra button, hoping to distract him, but he kept scanning her face. Reading her. Analyzing. It felt—what was the word? Invasive. Something like that.

  “Stop it,” she said without thinking.

  “Stop what?”

  She waved her hand vaguely. “That.”

  “What? Walking?”

  They’d stepped outside the tent now, into the soft, blue night. It had rained earlier, a quick summer storm that was all flash and rumble with barely a sprinkle of rain. Strings of twinkle lights dangled from the edges of the tent, and the distant lights of the midway were reflected in a few scattered puddles, giving the asphalt a supernatural sheen. Suze could hear the carnival barkers hawking their games in faraway voices, luring fairgoers with the promise of giant teddy bears and Elmo knockoffs.

  Brady took her hand and stopped so abruptly she couldn’t help spinning around to face him.

  “I’ve stopped walking.” His voice was low, and he pulled her a little closer. Not too close. No more than if they’d been dancing the two-step. But it was closer than they should be. She could feel those hopes and dreams billowing from her subconscious like ghosts rising from the grave.

  “That’s not what I meant.” She stared down at her toes.

  His tone gentled. “Then what did you want me to stop?”

  Suze shook her head, further undoing her long blond braid. As usual, it had loosened from the day’s riding, but not enough to hide her face.

  “Stop looking at me.”

  She wished she’d worn a hat, so she could tug the brim down and hide her eyes. Nerves were making her stomach burn, but there was another kind of heat in her belly—a warm, rich stew of sensation set on a slow simmer.

  He tugged her closer. “I like looking at you.”

  He was teasing her. It should make her mad, but there was something so gentle about it that it felt good. Was teasing the same as flirting? Because this felt like flirting.

  Surely Brady Caine wasn’t hitting on her.

  “Go back to your rodeo queens,” she said. “They’re into this kind of stuff.”

  “What kind of stuff?”

  She waved a dismissive hand. “Boy-girl stuff.”

  “And you’re not?”

  “No. I’m not…” What was the word? Dammit, he’d shorted out her brain. “I’m not available.”

  “Got a boyfriend?”

  She shook her head and felt her braid flop from side to side. “Don’t take this wrong, but my relationship with my horse is about the only one that matters right now. I need to focus, and you’re distracting me.”

  “Distracting you from what?”

  “From being the best.” The answer came quickly to her lips. “I need to get back to my trailer so I can watch videos of my races today. To see how I can improve.”

  They stood at the edge of a puddle, and the glistening swirls at the edge framed their reflections in light. It was like seeing their auras—Brady’s golden, her own a dim blue.

  “Don’t you ever think about anything but winning?”

  “It beats thinking about losing.”

  He laughed softly and touched her face. Just a touch, at the temple, but it felt invasive again. Invasive? No, intimate. That was the word. It drew her in, somehow, making the world around them fade away.

  “When did you ever lose anything?” he asked.

  “I win races. But other stuff…” She dropped his hands and shoved hers in her pockets, staring down at the puddle. “I lost my mom to cancer, my dad to—I don’t know. I think I lost him to my mother’s ghost, or something. And if I don’t keep winning, I’ll lose the ranch. Dad mortgaged it again when Mom…you know. The medical bills.”

  She regretted the words as soon as she’d spoken them. You didn’t go talking about serious stuff when a guy flirted with you. You were supposed to keep things light. Flirt back, if you liked the guy. But she had no idea how to do that, so she’d blown it.

  It was just as well. Brady would leave now. The hopes and dreams would haunt her for a while, but eventually they’d slip back into their graves and life would go on as usual.

  “I’m sorry.” He said it simply, as if he really meant it.

  Poor guy. She really shouldn’t have dumped all that on him. Sucking in a deep breath, she tilted her chin up and gave him a smile straight from the winner’s circle. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. It’s made me stronger. I might have lost a lot in life, but on horseback, I’m unbeatable.”

  “You are.” Brady grinned and chucked her under the chin. “You are unbeatable.”

  She was glad she’d had the nerve to brag a little. Basking in the light of his smile, she actually felt like the winner she was. Prize saddles, gold buckles, and blue ribbons couldn’t compare to the ultimate prize: the smile of Brady Caine.

  Chapter 2

  Brady watched the light from the festive bulbs that lined the eaves of the beer tent dance across Suze’s face as she talked. She wasn’t the prettiest girl in rodeo, but something about her had always drawn him.

  Maybe it was the way she rode, fast and reckless, always balanced on the knife-edge of disaster. Maybe it was her independence, her loner mentality. Most women needed a man around, and the single ones traveled in packs. But Suze seemed perfectly happy on her own.

  Well, not happy. She never seemed happy, and no wonder. She’d lost her mother, and her father—well, he was a strange one. He’d lived through his wife’s accomplishments, supporting her while she rocketed to rodeo stardom, but now that she was gone, he seemed to have lost interest in her talented daughter, and in life itself.

  “You drive yourself so hard,” he said. “You don’t always have to be the best. Isn’t it enough just to try? To do your best?”

  She shook her head. “Maybe if you’re in kindergarten. Then everybody gets a trophy, right? But in the real world, another world championship would get me more endorsements. And I need endorsements. That’s where the real money is.”

  He walked beside her in silence for a while, wondering what was wrong with him tonight. Normally he’d have bailed on this conversation as soon as it started. He wasn’t big on the serious stuff, but here they were, talking about riding and living, winning and losing.

  Brady’s goals were simple: buckles, broncs, babes, and beer. By that measure, he was definitely a champion. It had never been hard for him to stick to the back of a bronc, and once he won the buckles, the beer was free and the babes came easy. The cowboy life, footloose and careless, suited him down to the bone.

  Well, almost. Sometimes it bothered him that nobody took him seriously. His brothers claimed everything was a game to him, even sex. They said he took love about as seriously as a game of pickup basketball
, and maybe they were right.

  That’s why he needed to stay away from Suze. She took everything seriously, and he knew she liked him. It would be easy enough to seduce her, and he’d always wondered if she made love like she rode—all out, with her heart leading the way.

  But she’d expect more of him than he had to offer. He made it a rule to stay away from girls who didn’t know how to play the game. He wasn’t out to hurt anybody.

  The two of them strolled through the rodeo grounds in silence, heading for the area where the contestants kept their trailers. The crowds were mostly gone, and the place looked melancholy in the moonlight. The brightly lit stands that sold funnel cakes, fried Twinkies, and turkey legs were shuttered and dark, and the empty parking lot beyond was scattered with discarded day sheets and cigarette butts.

  Suze was staring down at her feet as she walked, lost in thought. She seemed to have forgotten he was there.

  He wasn’t used to that. Women generally paid him close attention.

  “How do you do it?” he asked.

  “Do what?”

  “Focus the way you do? Everyone says I’d ride better if I’d apply myself. I apply my butt to the saddle, but apparently that’s not what they mean.”

  She flashed him a smile, and her step took on a little bounce as she counted off points on her fingers.

  “You have to live and breathe your sport, every minute of every day. You need to watch videos, of yourself and of the winning riders. You analyze what you do right and what you do wrong. You ask questions. You make sure everything you do is dedicated to succeeding. You eat right, you sleep right—everything goes toward the goal.”

  She finished the speech with a little hop step, as if she was so excited, she could hardly contain herself. Now he was the one watching his boot tips as they walked.

  “Doesn’t sound like much fun.”

  She spun around and walked backwards in front of him. He’d evidently hit on her favorite subject. Talking about rodeo lit her up. She looked different. Animated.

  “It’s not about fun.”

  “So it’s all about winning?”

  “No.” She turned and walked beside him again, the animation gone, her tone flat. “It’s all about making a living.”