by Marin Thomas
“She’s more than fine at the moment, but I doubt she’ll be feeling too chipper in the morning.”
“Hell, Duke, Sierra’s either okay or she’s not. What’s going on?”
“I got a call from Ted Malone over at the Open Range Saloon. Sierra’s tearing up the dance floor.”
Beau had never run into Sierra at the Open Range, or any other bar in Roundup. “Are you sure it’s Sierra?”
“Oh, I’m sure. I’m at the bar right now watching her line dance by herself.” Duke sounded worried. “She’s had an awful lot to drink, Beau. She shouldn’t drive home.”
Sierra had driven her car after dark? Why would she do something so reckless—even though the bar wasn’t far from the diner? “I’m on my way.”
“You might want to hurry.”
“Why’s that?”
“Some cowboy’s hitting on her and it looks like she might leave the bar with him.”
“Arrest her if you have to, but don’t let Sierra out of your sight.” Beau disconnected the call and raced from the barn. The drive to the Open Range took twenty minutes going ten miles over the speed limit and he pulled into the lot behind the bar right at closing time. Two trucks, Duke’s patrol car and Sierra’s SUV, sat parked near the back entrance.
Having no idea what to expect, Beau braced himself when he entered the bar. As his eyes adjusted to the dim interior, he scanned the room. Only die-hard boozers closed a bar down, but the few patrons sucking on last-call drinks appeared harmless. Then Beau’s gaze shifted across the room and he spotted Sierra’s image in the wall-length mirror behind the mahogany bar. She was draped like a tablecloth over a cowboy who didn’t look familiar to Beau. He took a step in their direction but Duke cut him off. “Ted said Sierra’s snockered.”
“What’s she been drinking?”
Duke grinned. “You sure you want to know?”
“Tell me.”
“Let’s see—” Duke counted off his fingers “—she’s had a Sex on the Beach, a Between the Sheets, a French Kiss and a Screaming Orgasm. Followed by a Slippery Nipple. The drink in her hands right now is a Slow Screw.” Duke checked his watch. “All since eleven-thirty when she walked into the place.”
Holy crap. Sierra had gone off the deep end. Beau walked toward the couple, his boot heels sticking to the hardwood floor. He tapped the cowboy on the shoulder. “Excuse me. That’s my girl you’re holding.”
The cowboy’s glazed eyes told Beau he’d already passed his booze limit.
“Hey.” The cowboy shook Sierra’s shoulder. “This your guy?”
Sierra lifted her head and smiled. “Beau?”
“In the flesh.”
She shook her head, then rested her forehead on the cowboy’s shoulder and muttered, “I’m not his girl.”
“She says she’s not your girl. That makes her my girl.” The cowboy tipped Sierra’s chin and stared her in the eye. “You wanna go back to my place, sugar?”
The endearment grated on Beau’s nerves. Aware of Duke standing by ready to intervene, he said, “She’s not going anywhere with you, buddy. You’re both drunk.”
“Party pooper,” Sierra said. She crawled out of the guy’s lap and took Beau’s hand. “I wanna show you something.” She led him to the empty dance floor, but stopped when she noticed Duke. “When did you get here?” she asked.
“Almost an hour ago.”
“Oh. You wanna dance with us?”
“I’m not really into threesomes.”
Beau jabbed his elbow into his brother’s gut.
“I’m going to teach Beau how to line dance.” She tugged him to the center of the floor. “It’s called the Tush Push.” She swayed and Beau’s hand shot out to steady her. She rubbed her head and looked disoriented.
“Get ready, she’s going down,” Duke warned.
“First, you step like this.” Sierra moved left, then right, then spun and fainted dead away in Beau’s arms.
“Need help?” Duke asked.
“Nope.” Beau swung Sierra over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry. With her fanny sticking high in the air, he marched toward the exit.
“Don’t forget her purse,” Ted hollered from behind the bar.
Beau switched directions and returned to the bar where the saloon owner held out the black clutch.
“Arlene coaxed Sierra to let her keep it after her third drink.”
“Thanks.” At least Ted’s wife had looked out for Sierra tonight. Any crazy fool could have stolen her purse and she’d never have known it. Duke held the door open for Beau and followed him to his truck. Beau set Sierra in the front seat and snapped the belt around her, then shut the door.
“Appreciate you telling me what was going on with Sierra,” Beau said.
“If you want, I can lock you two up for the night in one of the jail cells.”
That wasn’t a bad idea. If the good folks of Roundup learned Sierra had gotten hammered and spent the night in lockup she’d be less inclined to tie one on again. “Thanks, but I’ll sit with her in the diner tonight in case she gets sick.”
“Good luck.” Duke got into his patrol car and drove off.
Soft snores filled the cab as Beau drove down Main Street. When he parked behind the diner, he searched through Sierra’s purse for her keys then turned off the truck. He stared at the fire escape, wondering if he should wake Jordan and ask her to keep an eye on Sierra. No. Beau wanted to remain at Sierra’s side through the night—for his own peace of mind.
Once he’d carried her into the diner, Beau set her in a booth. She slumped over and his quick reflexes caught her right before she banged her forehead on the tabletop. He propped her against the wall next to the booth then tucked her legs beneath her before retrieving one of the plastic tubs used for bussing tables. He placed the tub in front of Sierra then put on a pot of coffee and sat in the booth with her.
The wait began. At three o’clock Sierra sat up straight and slapped a hand over her mouth. Beau moved the dishpan closer and they were off—round one of a triple-header. The next few hours were spent rinsing out the dishpan and mopping Sierra’s forehead with a cool cloth. Around five in the morning he offered her a soda cracker, but she refused.
Noise woke Beau at 6:00 a.m. He shifted in the booth, the left side of his body numb where Sierra was draped across him. Her hair was a tangled rat’s nest, her mascara smudged and her lips pale. She looked terrible but Beau’s heart swelled with emotion. He set her aside and slid from the booth.
“Morning, Irene,” Beau said when he stepped into the kitchen.
“She get plowed last night?” Irene’s eyes twinkled.
“I guess you could say she had a little too much fun.”
“Heard she was dancing up a storm at the Open Range.”
By noon the entire town would know about Sierra’s drinking binge.
“You take Sierra upstairs and put her to bed. I can manage the morning shift.”
“You sure, Irene?”
“Positive. That girl works way too hard. I’m glad she’s letting her hair down and enjoying herself for a change.”
Enjoying herself? Sierra’s reckless behavior worried Beau. What if Duke hadn’t been called to the bar to check on her—would she have gone home with a stranger? The thought of Sierra waking up in another man’s bed sent a surge of anger through Beau. He might not have any legitimate claim on Sierra but they’d made love, and in his mind that gave him at least a right to some answers.
* * *
BEAU PARKED HIS pickup in front of his aunt’s house Sunday morning at 7:30 a.m. Even though he was dead tired after watching over Sierra, he looked forward to riding Midnight. Hopefully the stallion would take Beau’s mind off the crazy stunt Sierra had pulled last night.
“You ready to rock-n-roll, Midnight?” Beau stood outside the horse’s stall. All was quiet in the barn—Gracie and her boys were still at church.
The stallion eyed him warily but didn’t object to being led into the adjoining cor
ral. The moment Beau released him, the horse circled the enclosure, snorting clouds of white steam into the cold morning air.
After retrieving the bareback rigging and flank strap he’d brought in his truck, Beau returned to the corral and allowed Midnight to sniff the gear. The stallion threw his head back then raced to the opposite end of the enclosure.
The next fifteen minutes were spent rearranging the fencing panels until Beau had constructed a makeshift chute. Since he didn’t have a helper, he didn’t bother with a gate. The only problem with his plan was that he’d have to back Midnight into the chute; the horse might balk at the unfamiliar routine.
“Ready, boy?”
Midnight took off, bucking. His high-arching kicks would make any seasoned rodeo cowboy nervous. Once he calmed, Beau approached with the gear then walked backward toward the chute. Midnight followed him.
The sweet purr of a diesel engine met Beau’s ears. Colt parked his truck in the drive. “Are you doing what I think you’re doing?” he asked in a hushed whisper as he approached the corral.
“Yep.”
Colt grinned when he noticed Beau’s predicament. “Need a little help?”
“Looks that way.”
“Got any ideas on how you’re going to get that horse to back himself up?”
“Nope. You?”
“Maybe.” Colt walked Midnight forward then stopped him when the stallion’s back end aligned with the opening. He then placed his palm on the horse’s chest and pushed firmly. Midnight didn’t budge. When Colt removed his hand, the stallion backed himself slowly into the enclosure, stopping when his rump nudged the rails.
“I’ll be damned,” Beau said. “Think Ace’ll believe this when we tell him?”
“I doubt it.” Colt glanced at Beau. “Does my mom know you’re working with Midnight?”
“Yep.”
“She always let you and Duke get away with the same shit she raked me and Ace over the coals for.”
Beau chuckled. “That’s because we didn’t have a mom.”
“Better quit yammering and ride. Midnight won’t stay in there forever.”
Once they secured the flank strap and rigging around the stallion, Beau climbed the rails and settled onto Midnight’s back. Satisfied with his grip, he said, “I’m ready.”
Midnight didn’t flinch, so Beau pressed his knees against the stallion’s sides. Nothing. “What’s he waiting for?”
Colt backed up slowly. “I’ve got an idea. Hold tight.” He hurried into the barn then returned with a pitchfork.
“You planning to jab him in the butt to get him to move?”
“Ready?” Colt lifted the rake toward the top rail of the pen and clanged it against the metal.
Midnight bolted at the sound, vaulting from the chute and almost unseating Beau. He didn’t have time to think about anything but hanging on for dear life. As soon as he got a little cocky, believing he might outlast Midnight, the horse went into a spin that sent Beau flying. He landed hard, but rolled to his feet, grinning. “Whew! Did you see that, Colt?”
“Don’t get a big head, hoss. That was far from Midnight’s best effort.” Colt patted his cousin on the back. “My turn.”
When the men glanced across the corral, Midnight was already standing near the chute. “He’s a competitor, that’s for sure,” Beau said.
“He needs practice with a real chute. Next time we’ll rig up something better.”
“As long as Ace doesn’t find out,” Beau reminded his cousin.
“Don’t worry, he won’t.”
Beau wasn’t as confident that they could keep their secret from Ace. His older cousin had a sixth sense about things and eyes in the back of his head. Beau just hoped that when Ace did find out, he wouldn’t blow a gasket.
Chapter Ten
By Wednesday afternoon Sierra had survived the worst of the inquiries about her excursion to the Open Range Saloon. Of course people would speculate that she’d gone off the deep end when she rarely visited the bars. Gossip aside, what bothered Sierra most about her night on the town was the fact that Beau had whisked her out of the bar as if he’d been her keeper.
Okay, so she’d found out from Irene, who’d been told by Dinah, who’d spoken to Ted the bartender, that Sierra had passed out in Beau’s arms on the dance floor. And maybe she should appreciate that Beau had taken her back to the diner and sat with her through the wee morning hours while she’d tossed her cookies, but Sierra hadn’t asked for Beau’s help and she resented his interference.
Just because they’d had sex didn’t mean they were a couple. Beau had no right to decide what was best for her. Besides, it wasn’t like she was going to make a habit of partying at the bars. Her night at the Open Range had been a one-time thing—a chance to let her hair down and release the stress that had been building inside her for months. She’d already moved on from that night, making plans to tackle the first item on her bucket list.
The diner door opened and the thorn in her side waltzed in. Beau’s gaze clashed with hers and she felt her face warm—not from embarrassment but because the man was too darn sexy for his own good. She hadn’t phoned Beau after she’d recovered from her hangover, because he’d been the last person she’d wanted to explain her actions to.
Regardless, she owed Beau an obligatory thank you even if she hadn’t asked for his assistance. He took a seat at the lunch counter and she grabbed a white mug and the coffeepot. She poured his coffee then choked the words out. “Thank you for taking care of me Saturday night.”
“I was surprised when Duke said you were having a rip-roaring time at the bar.”
Sierra didn’t care to discuss her private business in front of customers so she changed the subject. “Are you eating?”
“No. I just stopped by to see you.” His mouth curved in a smile.
Even as her heart sighed, Sierra straightened her shoulders and jutted her chin. She couldn’t allow Beau to sneak past her defenses because she knew there was no future for them.
“I also wanted to invite you to a rodeo this coming Saturday. It’s a small event in Bridger. I won’t be hauling any Thunder Ranch bulls, so I thought we’d stop for dinner afterward.”
No more rodeos. The last thing she wanted was more of Beau’s hovering. Besides, she already had plans for Saturday afternoon. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
The sparkle in Beau’s eyes dimmed. “I’ll bring you straight home after I compete.”
“I appreciate the offer, but—”
“I’ll help Irene, Sierra.” Her aunt stood by the kitchen door, wearing yellow latex gloves covered in soap suds.
Sierra held her tongue and counted to ten for fear she’d shout at everyone to back off and give her a little breathing room. “Thanks, Aunt Jordan, but no.” Good grief, she’d spent all Sunday in bed with the dry heaves. She couldn’t afford to play hooky for an entire day, but unbeknownst to her aunt, Sierra was taking the afternoon off.
Beau’s big brown eyes studied Sierra and she almost changed her mind. The memory of their lovemaking still haunted her when she crawled into bed. Reliving the intimate moments they’d shared made her yearn for a future with Beau, but common sense intervened. She’d stick with her own plans—much safer for her heart. Sierra motioned to the menu lodged between the condiment bottles. “Let me know if you change your mind about eating.” Steeling herself against the hurt look on his face, she retreated to the kitchen where she remained until Beau left.
* * *
“GOT A MINUTE?” Beau poked his head inside the door of the sheriff’s department and waited for Duke to glance up from the file in front of him.
“Sure.” Duke set aside the paperwork and walked over to the watercooler. “Thirsty?”
“No, thanks.” Beau slouched in the chair facing his brother’s desk. His ego had taken a beating after Sierra’s brush-off a few minutes ago and he was too agitated to drive home. He motioned to the file his brother had been reading. “What’s the latest report on cri
me in the area?”
“Investigating a broken window out at widow Haney’s house. Dinah believes the widow slammed her storm door too hard and it cracked the glass. Mrs. Haney claims she’s been targeted by Roundup’s hooligans.”
“Mrs. Haney likes to stir up trouble because she’s bored and doesn’t have anyone to henpeck since her husband died,” Beau said.
“You’re right, but Dinah’s got a soft heart. She’ll jump through hoops for Mrs. Haney and talk to the schoolkids.”
“Speaking of broken windows…remember those slingshots Dad made for us when we kids?” Beau said.
“Aunt Sarah was so pissed after we broke her kitchen window.”
“And she really got riled when we told her we’d been aiming for the bird on the ledge.”
“Boy, did Dad get a dressing-down from his sister.”
“Joshua, if you let those boys attack innocent birds they’ll be aiming at people before you know it.” Beau mimicked their aunt’s voice. “Who knew Aunt Sarah had a soft spot for yellow-bellied sapsuckers?”
“I don’t think I said two words to Aunt Sarah for a month after Dad hid the slingshots,” Duke said.
A stilted silence followed and Beau squirmed in his seat.
“Trouble in paradise?” Duke quirked an eyebrow. “If you need any advice—”
Beau scoffed. “Just because you found your better half and settled down doesn’t mean you’re an expert on male-female relationships.” The urge to unload on Duke was tempting, but Beau wasn’t used to seeking his brother’s counsel. Most of their lives Beau had been the one to defend and protect Duke’s feelings. Beau changed the subject to one Duke was always eager to discuss—their father. “Had a long chat with Dad the other night.”
“That so?”
“I guess it was more of an argument than a discussion.”
“What happened?”
“Sierra and I walked in on him and Jordan kissing.” Beau grinned. “Dad’s shirt was untucked.”
“I’ve never seen Dad so preoccupied. It’s like he’s someone else, not the man who raised us.” Duke rested his feet on the corner of the desk and leaned back in his chair. “What did the two of you bicker over?”
