Nah. But damn…those legs deserved their very own song.
“Dead or Alive” by Bon Jovi?
Doubtful, even when it had a western flair.
“Man, I Feel Like A Woman” by Shania Twain?
Nope, not that one either.
“Save A Horse (Ride A Cowboy)” by Big and Rich?
Too obvious. He had the feeling she wouldn’t pick an ordinary or clichéd song. Definitely no “Pour Some Sugar On Me” by Def Leppard or “Redneck Woman” by Gretchen Wilson.
The first few notes were lost to the crowd, but he watched as her boot on the pole started tapping. Then the acoustic riff began and he knew he’d been right about her unconventional choice.
“Finish What Ya Started” by Van Halen.
The brazen sexpot had chosen subtly sexy.
Interesting.
The instant she started to move, Justin’s heart raced.
She made swinging her hips an art form, giving everyone a sideways view of her stepping forward and back. Stopping in perfect synch when Sammy Hagar growled. Performing a little hop-skip move when the guitar plucked the high notes.
Holy fuck, she was mesmerizing.
And the meat of the song hadn’t even kicked in yet.
When his fantasy woman gave the bar her back, Justin’s mouth went utterly dry. Jesus Christ, she had an ass on her. Perfectly heart-shaped. Given the fact she wore short-shorts, he was treated to a peek of the sweet curves where those killer legs morphed into a killer ass. As she rocked her hips, he was damn near jealous of the faded fringe that brushed the backs of her thighs over and over.
She jumped, widening her stance, and bent forward so she was looking at the crowd upside down from between those amazing legs.
Scratch that—she was looking directly at him from between those amazing legs.
His dick did more than stir—the fucker stood up and saluted.
It’d been years since he’d gotten a woody in public—so long ago he barely remembered being young, dumb, and full of come.
Hell, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d gotten hard and horny just from watching a woman shake what God, genetics, or a plastic surgeon had given her.
That’s when he should’ve walked away.
But he didn’t.
Sweat snaked down his spine before the babe on the bar spun around, gifting him with the view of the front side of her body.
Justin tightened his jaw to keep drool from spilling out of his mouth at his first glimpse of her lush tits.
Took him a few moments to tear his gaze away from the enticing sway of her breasts to watch how sensuously she rocked her lower half. He swore her tank top was so sheer that he could see the outline of her belly button through the clingy material.
For a split second, he imagined curling his hands around her hips as he brushed his lips across her belly, feeling her soft flesh rippling beneath his hot breath as he dragged his mouth lower and lower.
A loud stomp of her boots on the bartop jarred him from that fantasy and he refocused on her face this time. A crazy feeling of anticipation took wing in his chest when he saw her devilish smile and the challenge in her big blue eyes directed at him.
She performed a whole-body shimmy as she twisted down to a crouching position, then she twisted back up, whipping her head side to side, sending her long flowing locks—not golden blonde or honey brown or fiery red, but a fascinating mix of all three colors—swinging in an arc that never masked her angelic face.
Angelic? Nope. Any woman who could manipulate her body like that knew her way around the type of dirty that’d put a smile on the devil’s face.
It definitely put a smile on Justin’s.
She’d reached the section of the song where Sammy’s voice had taken on a pleading tone. Keeping their gazes locked, she crooked her finger at him and mouthed the words “Now come on baby…please?”
Next to him, Deke said, “Holy fuck, man. Did you see…”
Whatever else he’d said got lost when Justin walked away from him toward her. By the time he reached her, she’d lowered to her knees. Her full lips were tilted into a sexy, secretive smile when she deftly plucked his black Stetson off his head and plopped it onto her own. Then in an impressive acrobatic maneuver, she rolled back onto her bootheels and jumped to a standing position. She spun around, shaking that fantastic ass, winking at him over her shoulder, trying to appear coy from beneath the brim of his hat.
Coy. She managed to pull off that look but he preferred her naughty do-me-baby stare.
His hard-on agreed with him.
She did the hop-skip move again, ending the song how she’d started it; relaxing against the pole.
Whistles and applause were deafening after her dance. Money that appeared on the bartop quickly disappeared as the other bartenders shoved the bills she’d earned into a white bucket.
After hopping down, she grabbed a bottled water and sashayed toward him.
His heart beat so hard and fast she likely heard it. Add in the butterflies flapping in his belly, the dry mouth, the sheen of sweat on his brow, and the painful press of his cock against his zipper, and it’d be a fucking miracle if he could even talk to her at all.
“Thanks for playing along…?” She paused and he realized she was asking for his name.
He cleared his throat. “Justin.”
“Justin,” she repeated with a silken coo. She passed over his hat. “Definitely a western name.”
His gaze zoomed to the nametag above her left breast. “Back atcha…Calamity.” He looked into her big baby blues. “Is that really your name, sweetness?”
“It’s what my daddy called me.”
Probably she couldn’t share her real name so he didn’t push. Instead, he plunked his hat back on his head and leaned closer. “Are you?”
“Am I what?”
“A calamity?”
“Depends on the day. Can I buy you a drink, cowboy hottie?”
“Why’d you wanna know my name if you aren’t gonna use it?”
Calamity gave him a cheeky smile. “Because I like cowboy hottie much better. It suits that handsome face and banging body you’ve got goin’ on.”
Been a long time since Justin had blushed. He just hoped it was too damn dark in here for her to see it.
“What’ll it be? You see anything you like?”
You. I’m dying to have those mile-long legs wrapped around my waist or my neck as you moan my name.
Her eyes widened as if she’d read his mind. “How about we start with one drink and go from there?”
“Cool. Coors. In a bottle.”
“Coming right up.”
As soon as she was gone, Deke appeared at his side. “Man. Are you a chick magnet or what? It looked like she wanted to jump off the stage and start bouncing on your pole.”
“She just needed my hat as a prop for her dance.”
Deke raised his eyebrows. “Plenty of dudes in cowboy hats here.” He pointed at his own head. “Including me. So it’s gotta be you.”
Justin shrugged.
“While you’re getting up close and personal with her, don’t forget you’re the DD tonight.”
“You planning on getting hammered, boy?”
“Nope. But I ain’t about to take a chance drivin’ even if I only have three beers tonight.” Deke tossed him the keys. “Don’t ditch me neither. Even Uber ain’t gonna drive that far out.”
“No worries.” Justin watched the swing of Calamity’s hips as she approached. “I’ve got a reason to stick around.”
Calamity handed him the beer, which he passed to Deke. “First round is on me.”
“Thanks, man.”
When Justin looked at Calamity, she’d leaned across the bar. “Did you just give away your complimentary beer?”
“Yep.”
“You just cheap? Or broke?”
“Both.” He offered her a charming wink. “But mostly I passed it on because I’m the DD, so I’ll take a Coke.”
Sh
e flashed him that dimpled smile. “One Coke coming up.”
After she served him, she had other customers lined up, giving him the perfect excuse to watch her—although he pretended not to. She was an excellent bartender, pouring taps, mixing drinks, popping tops in an economy of movement that proved she’d been doing this job long enough to be comfortable with it.
While Calamity was friendly and joked around with customers, her interaction with them never veered into false flattery territory just to score a big tip—unlike some of the other servers he noticed who all but gave their customers lap dances.
He watched the redhead sporting the Britney Spears schoolgirl outfit working the back of the room, flirting and hustling for every dollar. But the men she waited on lapped up her attention like eager, frolicking puppies, meaning it was mutually beneficial—who was he to judge?
“Your face is gonna freeze like that if you keep scowling,” she said behind him.
“Sorry. Habit.” He turned around.
Those huge blue eyes studied his face. “Why is it a habit? Is your life really that bad?”
Might be clichéd since she was a bartender, but he didn’t hesitate to confide a partial truth. “Not bad, no. Just…unsettled.”
“Woman troubles?”
“Only woman I see that might be trouble for me is you, Calamity.”
“Charmer,” she groused. “That sounds promising. But tell me more about you feeling unsettled.”
“I started a new job today.”
“Ah. So you’re not from around here?”
“Nope.”
She smirked at him as she fixed a cocktail in a tall glass. “Should my next question be ‘what’s your sign?’”
“Maybe my sign is ‘out of order’ or ‘needs replacement parts’ or—”
“Don’t feed the bear,” she supplied.
He laughed. “You’re funny, Calamity.”
“I try.” The redhead caught her attention and she nodded. Then she focused on him. “Laugh at my jokes, cowboy hottie, but please don’t laugh at my dancing.”
“Laugh? Why would I do that? I’ve seen you dance, remember? And, darlin’, that ain’t something I’m likely to forget anytime soon.”
She blushed. “Not this one. I hate it, but it’s a crowd pleaser.”
A bartender at the opposite end of the bar rang the cowbell on the wall and all the servers jumped up on the bartop.
“Cotton-eyed Joe” began to play and the ladies did a line dance, hopping and skipping and twirling. Then they did a fake kissing thing that was sorta cheesy.
But throughout the performance, Justin kept his eyes on Calamity. Her body language gave no indication that she disliked giving the performance. She smiled and clapped as if she was having the time of her life.
His first thought? All women were damn good actresses when they wanted something.
His second thought? When the fuck had he turned into a cynical, grumpy old man?
You’ve been that way for longer than you wanna admit, Donohue.
Money littered the bar after the song ended.
Then Calamity was back doing her job without missing a beat.
After she served the last customer in her line, she returned to him. “You’re still here.”
Was it his imagination or did she sound pleased about that? He jerked his head to where Deke sat with a couple of women. “My buddy ain’t eager to leave.”
“Are you?”
Justin locked his gaze to hers. “Nope. Unless I’m bothering you? Keeping you from doin’ your work?”
“God no. It’s already slowed down. And the floor manager can’t bitch at me for doing what I’m supposed to.”
“And what’s that?”
“Personally interacting with customers.” She angled closer. “To be honest, cowboy hottie, I haven’t wanted to personally interact with any customers.”
“You mean recently?”
“No, I mean ever.”
Don’t be a grumpy old man and call bullshit on that. “Is there a rule against getting friendly with customers after hours?”
She shrugged. “I’ve had no reason to ask management or the other servers…”
Until now went unsaid.
“How long have you worked here?”
“Over a year.”
“How long you been bartending?”
“Six years.”
Justin did the math. She had to be twenty-one to serve alcohol…add six years…so she was twenty-seven at the very least, although she looked younger than that.
Dude, you’re forty. At twenty-seven she’d still be too young for you, the angel on his right side reminded him.
She’s more than old enough, the devil on his left side retorted.
“Which side is winning?” she said softly.
“Pardon?”
“Which side is winning?” she repeated. “The part of you that’s attracted to me? Or the part of you that wants to ask me a million more questions before you make an informed decision on whether you’ll personally interact with me?”
How had she homed in on his internal war so quickly? His eyes narrowed.
Calamity laughed. “I’m very good at reading people, Justin. Very good. That’s why I’m choosy about who I interact with.”
“And what’s your bead on me?”
She scooted in closer, so close he got a whiff of her hair, and goddamn if that fruity, perfumed scent didn’t zoom straight to his groin.
“You’re a loner. But you haven’t always been that way. I’ll bet you were a fixture in a bar like this a few years back. You and your buddies probably had contests to see who could pick up a chick the fastest and get laid the fastest.” Her eyes roved over his face, her heated gaze stopped on his mouth and she spoke to his lips. “No doubt with your gorgeous mug and muscled body you usually won those bets—I imagine you arguing with your friends that getting blown in the bathroom of a honky-tonk does count as sex, since you’ve proved many times that nearly any woman you smile at is eager to drop to her knees for you.”
Holy. Shit. He started to speak, but she shook her head.
“Huh-uh. I’m not done. But those days are behind you. Your buddies have settled down with families and you’re still living the wild life. Yet…despite you being in a bar tonight, I’m guessing you don’t troll for pussy anymore…not that you ever had to work that hard for it. These days you’re the ‘one and done’ guy, but even that isn’t as frequent as it used to be. You’ve closed yourself off—maybe you’re disillusioned because your career has stalled, or maybe you’re sensitive about being the black sheep of your family, or maybe some stupid woman ripped out your heart and it still fucking stings that you trusted her with it. Or maybe…” Her blue-eyed gaze hooked his again. “Maybe you won’t let a woman get close because you don’t want her to see the real unsettled you beneath the charming, carefree cowboy persona.”
Justin said nothing.
Calamity didn’t smirk like she’d won some kind of game. All she said was, “By the scowl on your face, I hit it dead on, didn’t I?”
Tell her she’s wrong.
But she wasn’t wrong…not entirely. Not that he intended to point out what part of that little pop-psychology she’d gotten right.
“Well, sweetness, since you seem to think you’ve nailed me good and hard”—he flashed her a devilish smile—“now you gotta give me something sweet and true about you to soothe my ragged soul.”
She rolled her eyes and said, “You can beg better than that.”
Christ, he liked her spunk. “What makes you think I ever have to beg for anything?”
“I bet you don’t so maybe it’s past time that you learned,” she shot back.
“All right.” He angled across the bar and placed his mouth on her ear. “I have no problem begging for what I want when it’s just you and me, baby. I’ll even get on my knees for you.”
Her breath hitched.
“Words ain’t my strong suit. But I promis
e you that my mouth is better suited for more creative, nonverbal ways to beg.” He paused, letting his warm breath flow across her ear and down her neck. “How’d I do?”
He heard her swallow hard. “Winner, winner, chicken dinner. What do you want?”
“For starters? Your real name.” He moved back only far enough to gaze into her eyes. “Whisper it to me in that sexy bedroom voice you’ve been taunting me with.”
Her dazzling smile about knocked him sideways. “It’s Callie.”
Almost without thought, Justin tucked a hank of her silky hair behind her ear. “Thank you, Callie.”
“Now that you know it, what will you do with it?”
“Use it when I beg for your phone number.”
“And if I say no?”
He smiled. “I’ll keep begging until you say yes.”
“Normally, I like that relentless quality in my men. But you’ve got my name, cowboy, and that’s more than I’ve given anyone else. Let’s call that a win for tonight.”
“Calamity. Girl, what’s a man gotta do to get a beer?” a man complained at the end of the bar.
She retreated and sent the customer an exasperated look. “Wait your turn, Jimbo.”
“How come he gets a longer turn than everyone else?” He shot Justin a glare. “It’s not fair.”
“Life ain’t fair. And he’s a damn sight prettier to look at than you.”
Jimbo scratched his beer gut as he studied Justin. Then he shrugged. “You got a point. You’d better make my G&T a double to take the sting outta that comment.”
She laughed and the sweet, dirty sound went straight to Justin’s dick.
He and this woman could have some serious fun together.
Justin hung around, hoping for more…conversation or interaction, or he’d even take them making fuck-me eyes at each other, but Callie didn’t look his way again for half an hour. He’d even gone to another station to get a refill on his soda.
When business didn’t slow, he said fuck it and tracked down Deke. Besides, Justin hadn’t come into town to get laid. If he wanted more of her, he knew where to find her.
Given Deke’s bleary-eyed reaction to Justin calling his name, it was past time to go.
Deke’s new lady friends booed loudly as Justin herded him out the door.
“Christ, man. I shouldn’t have had that last shot of tequila.”
Wound Tight: A Rough Riders/Blacktop Cowboys Crossover Page 3
