Falling For A Cowboy

by Anne Carrole

  “How much what?”

  “How much would you bet?”

  “It’s just a saying, Jesse.”

  His friend speared him with a sharp glance. “I’m serious. You think no woman can resist you. Well, I’m betting this gal can. And based on the smile she shot me, I think I have a chance of besting you with this one.”

  Clay shook his head. The man was out of his element. Of course she had shot Jesse one hell of a smile. For some reason she hadn’t gone for Clay. Yet. “We’re only going to be here until tomorrow.”

  “If you’re going to win all the money you need, we’ve got to come back here for the next few weekends. We’ll have to do it now before the ranch work picks up.”

  Clay had been thinking that, too. And he needed the money. Bad. Jesse had goaded him into coming to Langley. He never thought he’d be able to compete, given that he’d only ever entered ranch rodeos as part of a team. But saddle bronc was something he knew, something he’d been born to on the Double T. Something where he’d at least have a chance. Since he’d won, he was determined to keep trying until he got all the money he needed. But rodeo was one thing; playing around with the feelings of a local girl was another.

  Though he tried to keep all of his encounters light, sometimes women fell hard for him. There had been times when he’d had to hurt someone when all he’d wanted was a good time. Dusty Morgan came off hard on the outside but there was something about her, maybe the look in her eyes when she told him no, that said she wasn’t a woman to be trifled with, that she’d had some pain in her life. He didn’t want to be the cause of any more.

  “What are you proposing? That we spend time between go-rounds trying to get some girl and when I get her, which I would of course, I’d just throw her back? Hardly seems decent.” Clay fished in his pockets for the keys to the pick-up.

  Jess chuckled. “Well then, you won’t mind if I try for her.”

  He shouldn’t mind. “She has ‘don’t touch’ written all over her.”

  “Guess you’re just out of your element with a female who doesn’t immediately fall in your arms. You know nothing about courting a woman.”

  Courting a woman? Were they living in the nineteenth century? “I bet I know how to go after a woman better than you. You, my friend, should worry. You’ve been out of circulation so long, you’ll need more help than is available,” Clay shot back.

  “You’re on. Winner not only gets a fine time with the little lady, but a hundred dollar bonus from the loser.” Jesse leaned against the door of the truck, gulping the last of his beer, apparently waiting for Clay’s reply.

  It didn’t feel right betting on such a thing. But if he didn’t bet, it would be admitting that the woman didn’t like him and while she’d been downright prickly, he had a distinct feeling she wasn’t as immune as she wanted him to believe. Though she wasn’t exactly his type, he’d sure like to see that hair tumbling down around her while he kissed her breathless. If Ms. Morgan was just interested in a good time, why not with him rather than Jess? And if she wasn’t, neither of them would score, so no foul.

  “Fine. One hundred dollars for the first one who takes that ride with her. But no promising marriage or anything permanent to get her there. She has to come fully aware this is a non-committed relationship.” That was only fair since, left to his own devices, Jesse would be popping the question after the first kiss. The guy was a hopeless romantic. Someone like Dusty might just fall for his lines.

  Jesse arched a brow. “I’ve sworn off proposing. Don’t think I can take any more rejection.” For once the man looked serious. Clay knew the last girl had blasted a hole in the man’s heart the size of a cannon ball. Jesse had been convinced she’d been the one from the moment he spied her. Too bad the woman had been just marking time until her fiancé got home from Iraq.

  “As long as we’re clear. It’s just a good time for both parties, nothing more.”

  “We’re clear. I’m putting that hundred toward a new pair of hand-tooled boots. Saw some pretty ones in the store window in town.” Jesse was a bit of a dude where boots and hats and buckles were concerned. Had to have the best. On a cowhand’s salary that was tough to achieve.

  “Let’s check out the Beehive. Even if the lady in question isn’t going to be there, I’ve a hankering for some buffalo wings.” Clay downed the last of his beer and threw the plastic cup in a nearby trash can. If he didn’t claim that hundred dollars, it would be because the woman didn’t want a good time and Jesse wouldn’t be getting any either. That was a surprisingly comforting thought.

  Chapter Two

  “Hey John,” Dusty called as the back door of the Beehive slammed behind her. She stepped into Big John’s office. The place was jammed with paper on every surface. Dusty always wondered how the man ran a business. But the Beehive, being the only honky-tonk in town, was a popular spot, more so on the weekends with the rodeo crowd, which she hoped to avoid tonight.

  John sat behind the desk, the tall stacks of documents almost obscuring his large body. He lifted his head and gave her a weary look.

  “Good day or not?” John glanced at the cloth bag in her hand.

  “Good day. We broke twenty-five hundred again. Next weekend with Heritage Days we should do even better.”

  “Good tips?”

  She nodded as she set the bag on top of a stack of folders.

  John’s head bobbed in satisfaction. “Good. Sure you don’t want to work Sunday for me? Karen’s got sitter problems.”

  Her mind flashed to the two cowboys. She’d told the tall one she only worked Saturdays. If she came in on Sunday he’d surely think it was because of him. Ego types like him always thought it was about them. Yet she didn’t have a blessed thing to do tomorrow except sleep late and the rodeo wouldn’t interfere with that. And she sure could use the money.

  “If she can’t get a sitter, I’ll work.” Or maybe she should sit for Karen. But those four rambunctious boys were more than she was up to handling right now.

  John smiled. “Thanks, Dusty. You’re as good as your mama was.”

  “Thanks.” Her mother had worked for John to put herself through college. Dusty, though, just helped on Saturdays with the rodeo. During the week she worked at the Sweet Water Ranch, had every summer since she was fourteen. She was looking for a teaching position for the fall, again following in her mother’s footsteps—at least where career was concerned. She’d definitely not be traveling the same path to romance. “I’ll be going then.”

  “Tara Lynn is in the bar. Told me to let you know she needs to see you.” John looked at her from under dark bushy brows. “Emphasis is hers.”

  Though Tara Lynn Parker was a year younger, they’d been best friends since they’d found each other in Sunday school. Tara Lynn always wanted Dusty to join her at the honky-tonk on Saturday nights but Dusty had no interest in strutting around the floor with a bunch of hound dogs. Her life would start again when she got her teaching job, preferably away from Langley and its memories. Right now she needed time to recover from Bradley’s defection.

  Nodding her good-by to John, she strode down the hall, past the noisy kitchen toward the bar door and more noise. Before opening, she peered through the diamond glass window. Place was jumping tonight, two deep at the bar and the dance floor was already filled with only the juke box playing. It was still early, just past eight, and the band wasn’t due till nine. Hopefully it was too early for those rodeo cowboys. Maybe they went to the Buttercup Café to get some chow first.

  She pushed open the door and the noisy conversations combined with Tim McGraw on the juke box and the clanking of glass and porcelain to drown out any further thought. She scanned the bar and found Tara Lynn perched on a stool plumb in the middle, glass in hand. Like her older sister Lisa, Tara Lynn was dark and voluptuous with a healthy dose of baby fat, just what cowboys liked. She was rarely without a partner from the rodeo crowd. In a committed relationship with a business major from Austin, Tara Lynn was in it s
trictly for the dancing.

  “Hey,” Dusty shouted above the noise.

  Tara Lynn grinned. She was wearing a white camisole that barely covered her essentials,a flirty little black skirt that showed off her legs, and red boots. Red boots seemed a signature of the Parker girls. “Hey yourself, cowgirl.” Her smile was the knowing kind, like she had a secret.

  “You wanted to see me?” Even shouting, Dusty could barely hear herself above the crowd noise.

  “Meet anyone interesting today?” Tara Lynn’s grin broadened like a Cheshire cat’s.

  How the heck did the girl know? “Why?”

  “They’re here. Both of them. One cuter than the next. And they were asking about you. Both of them.”

  Dusty did a quick scan. Came up empty. Phew. They must have gone.

  “There, in the booth behind you and to your left.”

  Dusty felt herself flush as she turned. There the two of them sat. With crisp white shirts on, they were more duded up than when she’d seen them last. Clay’s arm was around Melissa Porter, a stacked brunette, and Jesse’s arm was around Shirley May Wagner, a blue-eyed blonde. Both men were leaning in close to talk. Well they hadn’t lost any time. The two women were friends of Tara Lynn’s older sister. Dusty turned quickly back to Tara Lynn, lest those cowboys spot her and think she’d come for them.

  “They seem well-occupied,” Dusty shouted.

  “Yeah, well, they were asking a lot of questions about you. They seemed really interested.”

  “And just how did they find you?”

  Tara Lynn shrugged.

  “Let me guess, the brown-haired one asked you to dance?”

  Tara Lynn nodded.

  “They’re players, Tara Lynn. Weekend cowboys who are looking for a good time. Rodeo cowboys.” And that said it all.

  “So have a little fun. Take your mind off of things. I’ll take the one you don’t want for a whirl.”

  “They’re with Shirley May and Melissa now.”

  “No they’re not. They just headed for the bar.”

  “And I’m headed home.” Dusty had to get out of there before they saw her.

  Before she could blink, Peter, one of the bartenders, strolled over and plunked down two long-neck beers. “Guys at the end sent these with their compliments.”

  Hell. She’d been spotted. “Tell them no thanks—from me at least.” Tara Lynn already had the bottle to her lips and was signaling her appreciation.

  “Come on Dusty,” said Peter, a grin on his weathered face. “If I take it back, I’ll have to refund their money. John wouldn’t appreciate that, now would he.”

  She felt like some saloon girl in an old western movie, shilling for the boss. “Fine.” She took the beer and downed a gulp. She wasn’t a beer kind of girl—and in a Texas town that was saying something. Since in most places that was the only thing served, she drank it but she didn’t particularly enjoy it.

  She would not turn around and say thank you, though. She hadn’t asked for it, didn’t want it, and certainly didn’t want to encourage them.

  “Ohhh. Here they come,” Tara Lynn said in a voice that sounded almost like a squeal.

  Dusty felt like running. But she’d never been a coward. So what? These cowboys would leave tomorrow and she’d never see them again. If they wanted to waste their money on a beer, so be it. She took another slug.

  “Hey Dusty,” Jesse said, pulling in close. “Tara Lynn.”

  Clay nodded and pushed beside Tara Lynn. Staring down at her from under the brim of his hat, the shadows crossing his face took away the boyishness and left the chiseled planes of a fine-looking man. A man with a self-satisfied smirk riding his face.

  “You up for a dance, Dusty?” Jesse said and held out his hand. Dusty glanced at Clay. Did she imagine it or was there a dare in his eye?

  “Sure,” she said and plopped her bottle on the bar. “Why not?”

  Jesse knew his country dancing. He twirled her around the floor like they’d been dancing together for years, a big old grin on his face the whole time. With Jesse keeping her in constant motion, she could only catch glimpses of Clay talking to Tara Lynn. Clay may not have asked Dusty to dance, but surely Tara Lynn would have asked him. So why weren’t they?

  The music shifted to a slow dance and before Dusty could form the words to suggest they part, Jesse had her in his arms. He pressed her to him, his thin body hard and strong. She looked into darkened brown eyes. Nothing. She felt nothing and that was good. He was a nice guy, no doubt. But fortunately, there were no sparks. She didn’t want sparks with a rough stock rider. Not ever. Slowly, she relaxed.

  “So tell me, Dusty, what do you do when you’re not at the rodeo?” Jesse breathed in her ear. “Besides having the most beautiful hair I’ve ever touched.”

  She’d let her hair down as soon as she was done at the rodeo. Naturally wavy, blond, and long, it was her best feature—though her mother was constantly at her to cut it off, claiming it was too much for such a little girl. Bradley had liked it—only not enough.

  “I just graduated Texas Tech and I’m hoping to get a teaching position come fall. I’ve been interviewing.”

  “Teacher?” He pulled back to look at her. “I knew it.”

  “What do you mean you knew it?” She stared at him again and still didn’t feel a thing. Not a thing.

  “Well, I didn’t know it. But being a teacher, well, it seems right for you.”

  Seems right? Was he saying she was predictable? A certain type? A staid teacher type? She decided to change the subject. “What about you?”

  “I’m a cowhand. Work the Double T ranch near Marfa.”

  “So you’re a real cowboy?”

  He chuckled. “Yes ma’am, and proud of it.”

  “What about your friend?”

  “Ah, not a cowhand, exactly. But definitely a cowboy.” Jesse seemed reluctant to say more.

  “A bronc rider though?”

  “Yep. He’s definitely that. His destiny is busting broncs.”

  And breaking hearts she’d bet.

  “Your hair smells nice,” he whispered in her ear.

  That had to be the tritest line she’d heard in a while. “Thanks,” she muttered as the music stopped. The band would be going on in a few minutes as it was closing in on nine. Time for her to exit, especially if she would be working tomorrow.

  “I’ve got to get going. It was nice to see you again, Jesse,” she said, smoothing her skirt.

  He grabbed her arm. “Can’t you stay a little while longer? I’d like to spend some time with you. For real.”

  Well, he was good at sincerity, she’d give him that.

  “No. I can’t. Good luck tomorrow.” She tossed him a smile as he let go of her.

  Without bothering to say good-bye to Tara Lynn, who was in conversation with Clay, she headed toward the front door. For some reason she just had to get outside and garner some fresh air. And go home.

  “Hey Ben,” Dusty called to the older man stationed in the foyer to collect the cover charges. Pushing open the double glass doors, she breathed in the night air as the blue neon sign flashed above. It was dry and dusty and hot as hell during the summer, but Langley had clean air and starlit skies, and it was home.

  Through the full parking lot, she made a beeline for her shiny silver pick-up, parked toward the back. She’d bought it with her own money, the start she needed toward independence and a new beginning. Walking across the gravel, she kicked at the ground with her boots sending a spray of pebbles and dust in all directions. She did it again and again until she reached the truck. Fingers on the cool metal door handle, she stilled when she heard her name called.

  She turned around to the sight of Clay bearing down on her. Her heart skipped a beat. His white shirt almost glowed in the moonlight while the rest of his body was etched in black against the gray night sky. He moved with the rolling gait of the cowboy he was, all fluid motion and power, a trim muscled torso on long lean legs. He held up his h
ands in surrender. “Don’t I count? You gave Jesse a dance. Don’t I get one?”

  He sure was a hunk of man. Her heart thumped hard inside her chest. She couldn’t tell his expression with the brim of the Stetson shadowing his face but she guessed it wasn’t a happy one.

  “I didn’t know you wanted one,” she managed to get out, just as he stopped short in front of her.

  His looming height made her feel small. She looked up at a set of unyielding lips, midnight blue eyes, and the gray shadow of a beard etching his strong jaw.

  “I want.” His voice had a husky timbre to it. He reached for her and she endured the slight brush of his hand against her shoulder as he fingered strands of her hair. Goosebumps danced where he’d touched. “Your hair is down. I knew it would be worth seeing.”

  She couldn’t move.

  He smoothed a tendril back behind her shoulder with the barest touch. “I’ll take this instead.” He bent down.

  He was going to kiss her. She knew it and still she rooted in place. Firm lips gently breezed across hers. The taste of hops filled her senses. His lips brushed again as his hand touched her shoulder and tugged her closer. She tingled clear to her toes. His lips pressed harder against hers, seeking a response. She opened and his tongue slid inside. A whimper of surrender escaped. He reacted to the sound by pressing her head closer to him, holding her for his taking as his mouth devoured her. She barely noticed the stubble of his beard scraping her cheek.

  “So sweet,” he mumbled against her lips. Strong fingers threaded through her hair. Hot and hungry, he deepened the kiss as he fitted her between his legs and moved against her like he couldn’t get enough, like he was ready to swallow her up.

  Her legs weakened.

  Instinctively, she wrapped her arms around his neck, skimmed her fingers through the hair that feathered his collar, and hung on, giving into the desire for a connection with someone warm and willing. Need pounded within her. It had been such a long while since Bradley. Clay’s hands, hot and heavy, moved to her waist as his mouth drank her in. One hand slid across her back and pressed her nearer, while the other inched near her breasts. His thumb rubbed against her nipple. A jolt of sensation shot through her, and her mind switched on.