Front Range Cowboys (5 Book Box Set)

by Evie Nichole

  It did not take Met very long to snag Justin’s attention. It was also equally obvious that Justin knew exactly who Met was. The tingling sensation on the back of Met’s neck made him uncomfortable as hell. The hair stood up on the back of his neck, and he felt like someone had put the proverbial crosshairs right on him.

  Met nudged a man wearing a University of Colorado ball cap. “What’s the score?”

  “Dude, we’re losing!” the kid moaned. “It’s pathetic. The Rockies were doing so good, right? Now we just can’t get the offense together to score a run to save our lives!”

  Met talked baseball with the young man for a few minutes. From the corner of his eye, he felt more than saw Justin staring blatantly at him. There was a pint of beer on the bar in front of Justin.

  Met’s mouth watered at the thought of alcohol. He wanted a bourbon, but there was no way he was going to indulge in something like that when Justin the stalker was sitting just a few feet away. Met needed to be sharp. His system felt as flooded with adrenaline as it did when he started walking toward the chutes when he was on deck and ready to hand off his bronc saddle to the guys who would prep the horse right before Met’s ride.

  Finally, Met bellied up to the bar. He leaned over and waved to the bartender. “Can I get a beer please? Just whatever local you have on tap.”

  “No problem, man.” The bartender pulled a quick beer and set it on the bar in front of Met.

  Met put down a ten dollar bill so that the bartender would be paying attention to him. Money always spoke louder than words. “Thanks for that.”

  Met perched on a barstool, glanced at his phone so that it looked like he was waiting for someone, and then carefully focused on the television while sipping his beer. He could feel Justin’s gaze from three barstools away.

  It was rather interesting that nobody in the place—even if Justin was a regular—wanted anything to do with the very strange-looking man. His clothing was business casual, but the guy was trying so damn hard to look wealthy that it was almost painful to see. Between his glasses and his awkward comb-over, Justin looked every inch the accountant. His expression was dark and irritable. He keep glowering at people through his glasses like a pissed-off owl.

  After ten minutes had passed, Met was having trouble putting off the necessity of ordering a second beer. Not that a second beer would somehow render him alcoholically impaired, but he just didn’t want to go there. For whatever reason, it felt like a violation of Daphne’s trust in him.

  “Hey.”

  Finally Justin had made contact on his own. Met purposefully acted as though he were engrossed in the game. After a few minutes lag time, he turned toward Justin during a break in the action on screen. “Hey.” Then Met turned right back to the game as though Justin were totally forgotten.

  As Met had expected, the action drove Justin nuts. He did not like being ignored. “Excuse me, but are you waiting for somebody?”

  “Does it matter?” Met did not look directly at Justin. He pretended to keep his eyes on the game. But from the corner of his eye, Met could see Justin practically frothing at the mouth with irritation.

  “Don’t I know you?” Justin asked. He moved down the bar, dragging his half-empty pint glass with him. “I could swear we’ve worked together before.”

  “I’m a rodeo bronc rider.” Met let every bit of what Laredo often referred to as lazy arrogance show as he turned his head sideways and gave Justin a derisive once-over. “I doubt we’ve worked together.”

  “A bronc rider?” Justin’s obvious disbelief was designed to grate on Met’s nerves. Unfortunately for him, Met came from a whole family full of assholes. “Is that an actual career?”

  “On the pro rodeo tours it is,” Met said without turning back to look at Justin. “But I’m also part of a huge land and cattle company here on the front range.” Met gave a casual, dismissive shrug. It was just enough to make sure that Justin knew that Met had money, didn’t care about it, and could care even less about Justin.

  “Yeah.” Justin’s tone turned ugly. “I do know you. You’re the one screwing that public relations specialist. What’s her name? Daphne. Yeah. I’ve seen you two together.”

  The blatantly rude words were supposed to piss Met off and get his attention. Met didn’t bite. He bobbed his head nonchalantly. “I’m dating a Daphne. But I’m not screwing her. She’s not that kind of woman. You’re probably thinking of someone else.”

  Boom. That was it. Met finished his beer and waved to the bartender. The man pulled another one. This time, mostly because Justin was watching, Met casually threw a twenty on the bar for the two dollar beer. He met the bartender’s gaze. The two of them exchanged a very silent look, but Met knew that the guy understood what Met was doing.

  “Thank you, sir.” The bartender dipped his head in an almost exaggerated gesture of respect. If Justin were as much of a regular as Daphne suspected, this was going to piss him off even more.

  It occurred to Met that it might not be a good idea to provoke Justin. But Met was tired of this guy poking at them from the shadows. He was a coward. Met wanted to push a confrontation. He wanted to make this little twit show his hand and admit that he was a lowlife skulking stalker who had to harass women to get their attention.

  “Hey!” Justin snapped at the bartender with his fingers, but the man ignored him for a second or two before turning and raising his brows.

  “Yeah?” The bartender’s obvious preference for Met over Justin hit its mark as Met had expected. “What do you want?”

  “Another beer,” Justin said in a clipped voice. “And you’d better watch yourself, Damien, or I’ll have you fired.”

  The bartender’s snort spoke volumes to Met. The man was obviously used to Justin’s posturing. He didn’t appreciate it. He tolerated it only when he had to. And it was also pretty obvious to a barhopping expert like Met that Justin wasn’t a good tipper. If you wanted loyalty from the staff at a bar, you tipped well. Otherwise anyone else could come in with a bigger wad of cash and replace you.

  “Daphne’s a slut,” Justin said suddenly. He waved his pint glass at Met. “If you can’t close that deal, then you must have faulty equipment.”

  “Or I might just respect women,” Met drawled. “And there’s probably also the possibility that I’m not so insecure that I need to talk bad about a woman in public to make myself look like a man.” Met glanced over at Justin. “Just a thought. But then you seem to be the kind of guy that has to lie and intimidate to get anywhere with a girl. That’s sad. You know? Because men like you are the ones that give men in general a really bad name.”

  “That’s the truth!” Damien the bartender grunted an agreement. “Mr. Hernandez, did you need anything else?”

  So, the guy behind the bar actually knew Met. Weird. Of course, Met had been in a lot of bars in Denver over the years. It was possible that they’d met somewhere else. Or maybe Met had been here before. It could have happened a long time ago when Met was inebriated enough not to remember.

  “No, man,” Met said with a smile. “I’m good. Trying to cut back, you know?”

  “Is that right?” Damien was laughing now. “A Hernandez trying to cut back? That’s a first.”

  “You’d be surprised lately.” Met was thinking about the whole lot of them. “We’re turning over a whole new leaf these days.”

  “Glad to hear it.”

  If Justin didn’t like being ignored by Met, then he really didn’t appreciate being left out of an entire conversation taking place right in front of him. His expression turned ugly, and he screwed up his face into something almost approaching a pout. Then he slammed his way off the barstool and grabbed Met by the shoulder.

  Without a second thought, Met grabbed the hand on his shoulder and twisted it. He stepped off his barstool. Turning his body, he continued to twist Justin’s hand until the man’s arm was completely sideways in a chicken wing position.

  Justin whined and cried out in pain. The bar grew qu
iet as everyone turned to watch. Met pushed down and forced Justin to kneel. “Don’t touch me,” Met said quietly. “Do not ever touch me. You got it?”

  “You’re fucking that whore,” Justin snarled. His lips were drawn back away from his teeth in an animalistic expression of disgust and anger. “You are. I know you are! I saw the two of you in that parking lot. And I saw you at her office. You were taking her to dinner. You’re screwing her!”

  “So, you’re not going to try and deny that you were stalking us in that parking lot, hmm?” Met was somewhat surprised by that information.

  Then Justin’s lips curled into a grin, and Met realized that he’d taken the bait. However unintentional it had been. “See? You know who I am. You know.”

  “I think this whole bar knows who you are now,” Met growled. He didn’t appreciate being had. And yet Justin had given up an important confirmation that he had been stalking them in the diner parking lot. “That doesn’t make you important. It just makes you the guy that everyone is laughing at. And if you keep up your current behavior, you’re going to become that guy who got his ass kicked for stalking the wrong people. You got me, you little piece of shit?”

  Met glared hotly into Justin’s eyes, but he did not say a word. Met was left feeling as though this wasn’t a case of win, lose, or draw. It was more a case of poking the psycho could get you hurt bad.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Daphne had never been more relieved to walk into The Players Club. Zach waved as soon as Daphne and Met entered the bar. The place wasn’t all that crowded, even for a weeknight. Daphne found a table right away where she and Met could sit together and still be able to hear each other without shouting over the music playing from the DJ booth.

  “Why did you pick this place?” Met asked as he slid onto a high-top barstool.

  Zach appeared with her usual beer and set it on the table. He also put down the same for Met. “Long time no see, kid. Where’ve you been hiding?”

  Daphne smiled at her friend. It felt good to be back in familiar territory. Safe. That was why she had wanted to come here. Zach raised an eyebrow and pointed to Met. “Not that long ago you were trying to get rid of this guy. Care to explain what happened to change your mind?”

  “So many things,” Daphne groaned. “Can I just say that Justin has inserted himself back into the picture and we’ll just leave it there?”

  Zach whistled. “That sucks.” Then he turned and offered his hand to Met. “Zach Banks.”

  “Met Hernandez.” Met took the hand and gave it a friendly shake. “You own this place?”

  “No.” Zach tilted his head to one side. “But the owner does happen to be looking for another partner to buy in, if you’re really interested.”

  “Shut. Up!” Daphne poked Zach in the shoulder. “When were you going to tell me that Ryan wanted to sell out?”

  “You never stop by anymore!” Zach protested. “I was going to mention it the other night, but you might have noticed we were a little busy.”

  “I like this place.” Met was looking around as though he were honestly considering the possibility of ownership. “What kind of business do you do on a regular night?”

  “We’re within a decent distance of the college campus, so the business is steady.” Zach winked at Daphne. Then he looked back at Met. “If you’re really interested, just call the main number and dial nine. That will get you through to Ryan. He’s the one who will know how to best answer your questions.”

  “Right. Thanks.” Met waited until Zach had retreated to his spot behind the bar. Then he gave a slow nod of his head. “I think I can understand why you picked this place even though it’s not exactly the best meeting spot.”

  “I just needed somewhere where I know Justin will never show his face.” She sighed. Placing the balls of her hands against her eyes, she was nearly overwhelmed with everything that had happened in the last few days.

  “Are you okay?” His low voice made her gut tighten up.

  How was it that she could so easily recall what he smelled like? She could remember what it was like to have him beside her in bed and what it sounded like when he slept. The soft snores and the scent of warm, spicy male were embedded in her mind. And yet she could not get over the notion that she shouldn’t be anywhere near this man. What was really happening here?

  “What’s on your mind, darlin’?” His voice was almost coaxing. What was he trying to get her to admit? That she was freaking out?

  Fine. She could most definitely do that. “Were you trying to stir up trouble in the restaurant?”

  “You were the one who went there,” he pointed out in a very reasonable tone. “Did you realize that you’d walked right into his territory?”

  “No!” Even to her own ears she sounded defensive.

  Maybe that was what bothered her so much! She had completely screwed up, and in the process, she had put herself right in proximity to Justin while simultaneously trying to avoid him! It made her feel incompetent. Even worse, she felt like she had put her naiveté on display for her friends and coworkers to see too. What were they thinking of her? Did they believe that she had done it on purpose?

  “Do you think people believe that I enjoy this kind of drama?” Daphne suddenly asked Met. “Do you believe that I encourage it or egg it on?”

  “Do you get the idea that I’ve ever thought that?” He sounded strange, and it occurred to Daphne that he might believe she was trying to put him in one of those no win girl traps.

  She sighed and fiddled with her beer bottle. She didn’t want the thing. She didn’t even feel like it would be a good idea to drink it. A clear head was a must here. For pity’s sake, she was supposed to be telling Met that she had sent Carson some additional information that Met hadn’t included in the interview. She was supposed to be carefully setting the stage for that. She wasn’t though. And at the moment, she could not even imagine trying to tell him something like that. She had screwed up bad enough already.

  “Want to dance?”

  Daphne looked up from her bottle in surprise. What was he suggesting? Dancing? The music was not what it had been at Cody’s that night. It was different. There wasn’t any country dancing here. It was faster paced and sort of—intimidating.

  “I can’t dance to this stuff,” she said helplessly.

  There was that smile again. Did the man ever not manage to charm away her inhibitions with that smile? He stood up and plucked the beer bottle from her hand. Then he set it down and tugged her out onto the dance floor.

  Couples were moving and gyrating around them. It wasn’t crowded, but there were easily twenty other people or more out there who looked far more competent than Daphne ever would be.

  “Just stop worrying about it,” he told her gently. “Let your body go with the beat.”

  Let her body go with the beat? She felt ridiculous! And then he pulled her close to him and put her arms around his neck. His hands settled on her hips, and he began moving her in rhythm with the music.

  She closed her eyes. Initially it was so that she could stop feeling like everyone was staring at her. Maybe if she could not see them staring it would not matter that they were. Then she stopped thinking about it at all. The only thing on her mind was the feeling of his body next to hers. The heat of him, his scent, and his touch were all familiar.

  He kept her close. They moved. She didn’t know where. It didn’t matter. He turned and pivoted. She felt her feet moving as though they were no longer attached to her legs. The beat thrummed in her veins. Her heart settled into rhythm. Her fingers tingled where they touched his neck. He pressed his lips to the pulse point just below her ear.

  “Feel. Don’t think.”

  She wasn’t thinking. She was feeling. It was a tidal wave of emotion that hit so hard that it left her gasping without even knowing that she was trying to breathe. She let her head loll back. Her hair came loose from its knot and swung side to side against her shoulder blades. She felt every muscle and sinew
in her body as though it were attached to one thought and one mind.

  The music swelled. Her heart thudded against her ribs. Met laid his palms against her sides. He swung her hips side to side and moved his body so close to hers that she felt every single breath he exhaled as a whisper across her skin.

  She was flying. She was soaring above the dance floor, the building, the earth itself. Stars wheeled overhead, and Daphne felt as though she could somehow touch each one. Her muscles relaxed. They flowed with the beat of the music and the gentle prompting of Met’s hands and body. He locked his arms behind her back, and she felt herself bending backwards as she swayed and dipped to the music. The tips of her hair brushed the floor.

  He was lifting her. Her legs locked automatically around his waist as he spun and dipped her body with the rhythm. The sensation of riding him right there in the club was heady. She felt wild and wanton and so very, very in love with this man. Her heart swelled as she felt her fingers pressing into his skin.

  He bounced her up. She unlocked her legs and felt them fly before her feet settled back to earth. Met wrapped his arms around her body and pressed his lips to hers. Daphne slid her fingers through his hair and sighed as he deepened the kiss. His hands cupped her face. He gently pressed his thumb to her lower lip and urged her to open her mouth. His tongue slid inside her mouth to mate with hers. She wanted him so badly right now that she would not have balked at the idea of making love right here on the dance floor.

  She hungrily devoured everything that he could give her and more. Her hands slid across his cheeks and chin. She sucked his lower lip into her mouth and gently bit down. He growled and took utter possession of her mouth. The two of them grappled for control, but in the end, she eagerly surrendered to this man. She would always surrender to him.

  “I want you,” he whispered in her ear. “I want to make love to you. I want to wake up next to you for the rest of my life. Will you be mine, Daphne? Will you?”

  The barriers between them were astronomical. They were worlds apart. Being with him would create so many roadblocks and difficulties in her life.