Boots and Buckles

by Myla Jackson

  “I was wrong,” he blurted, not exactly the way he’d planned. Mona had every right to be angry with him and he’d expected that. “After we left here, something else came up. I wasn’t sure I’d ever be back and I didn’t want to leave you hanging. It wasn’t fair to you.”

  “So you dumped me over the phone to spare my feelings?” She rolled her eyes. “Classy. And so thoughtful.”

  Grant scraped the hat off his head. “Look, Mona, not a day has gone by that I haven’t thought of you and all I left behind.”

  “Funny, I’ve barely thought of you or Dalton in the past three years.”

  His lips thinned. “I don’t have anything to do with Dalton anymore. And I can’t begin to tell you how sorry I am that I left. You deserved better.”

  “Yeah, better than a phone call.” She tipped her head back and stared into his face, her eyes suspiciously moist. “So you’ve said your piece and you don’t want a haircut. What’s keeping you?”

  “I want a second chance.”

  She stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “You want what?”

  “A second chance to prove to you that I really do care for you.”

  “You cared enough to leave the Ugly Stick Saloon with another woman last night.”

  So she had noticed. “I did, but I didn’t sleep with her. I wouldn’t when it was you who’s been the only woman on my mind.”

  “What happened to your wife?”

  He hesitated, the truth too long and complicated. “We divorced soon after we were married. I never loved her.”

  Her lips twisted. “Convenient. And it only proves to me you have a problem with commitment.”

  “Not with you.” He captured her hand. “Please, give me another chance?”

  Anger flared in her blue eyes and she opened her mouth. Then she clamped it shut and closed her eyes.

  Grant’s belly knotted. “Should I take your silence as a no?”

  “No.”

  “No about the silence or no you won’t give me a second chance?”

  The tension left her shoulders and she opened her eyes. “Look, it goes against my better judgment, but…”

  “You’re giving me a second chance.” He released the breath he’d been holding. “Thank you.”

  She pulled her hand free of his and held it up. “I’ll give you a second chance to prove to me you’re not a complete ass. But we’re not picking up where we left off. We’re starting over from scratch.”

  His chest swelled and his lips curled upward. “Fair enough. We’ll start over.” He stuck out his hand. “Hi, I’m Grant Raleigh and you’re the prettiest girl I’ve met. Will you go out with me?”

  She took his hand, a frown pulling her brows together. After a moment, her face cleared and she gave a strained laughed. “I can’t believe I’m doing this… Yes.”

  He’d gone into his courtship fully expecting Mona to slam the door in his face. He purposely didn’t mention that he knew she’d gone out with Sam, afraid it would cause her more stress in his campaign to win her heart. Hell, Sam had clearly expressed his desire to pursue Mona, and a decent cowboy didn’t horn in on another man’s woman. A knot of guilt tainted his happiness that Mona had relented and was giving him a shot at mending their relationship. Nothing about coming back to Temptation was going to be easy. “Dinner tonight?”

  She nodded. “My last appointment is at five and I work at the Ugly Stick from nine until midnight. Can you be here at six?”

  “I can and will.” He tipped his head toward the bag with lunch. “In the meantime, I have a lunch prepared and I even brought a blanket to sit on. Would you like to go on a picnic?”

  She stepped back. “Don’t push this too fast.”

  He held up his hands. “Got it.” Then he glanced at the bag. “Sure hate to waste a good lunch. PJ’s does a good job.”

  Mona sniffed the air. “Turkey club?”

  “Just the way you like it.”

  “Okay,” she said. “But we eat here.”

  “Deal. I’ll be right back.” He spun and ran for the door, returning with the blanket and the cooler he’d left in his truck.

  “We could eat off one of the manicure tables,” she suggested.

  “And miss out on an indoor picnic?” Grant shook his head. He wanted to do this right. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”

  He whipped the checkered blanket out and let it drift to the floor.

  Between the two of them they set out food and Grant reached into the cooler for two bottles of light beer.

  They sat and he opened the bottles, handing one to her. “To second chances.”

  She clinked her bottle against his and they drank. Then she held up her beer. “To knowing what we really want.”

  An image of Sam’s excited face flashing through his thoughts, Grant hesitated before tapping his drink against Mona’s. “To knowing what we really want.”

  Chapter Seven

  Mona sat on the checkered blanket, having forced down half a sandwich, while staring across the array of food and napkins at Grant. After three long years in which she’d sworn off men, one of the guys who’d turned her against relationships was sitting across from her, wanting a second chance.

  A second chance for what? Breaking her heart again? Mona had almost showed him the door. But that spark of fire and longing that had initially attracted her to Grant was still there, and stronger than ever. A shiver rippled across her skin, her body completely aware of his sitting so close.

  Grant was a handsome cowboy. Strong, confident and a winner on the rodeo circuit. If he was telling the truth and had realized his mistake, Mona could possibly have him back.

  Three years of heartache was a long time. What if during that three years she’d changed so much Grant was no longer the man for her? Sure, he was sexy and exciting, but was he the kind of man she wanted in a real, long-lasting relationship?

  And what about Sam? There was a man with fresh new possibilities.

  A knot of guilt formed in her belly. She’d slept with Sam last night knowing he was Grant’s new partner. How would Grant feel about that? Mona tipped the beer bottle up and swallowed the rest in one long gulping chug.

  Grant’s eyes widened. “Okay. I did bring more.” He reached into the cooler and uncapped another, handing it to her as she set the empty to the side.

  The alcohol took the edge off her anger and nervousness over being with Grant again. She lay on her side, propping her head in her hand. “So, Grant, how’s the rodeo going? What are you participating in this time?”

  He dropped to his side, facing her. “Team ropin’ and bronc ridin’.”

  “Why the new partner?”

  Grant glanced at the beer bottle in his hand. “Dalton and I had a parting of the ways a few years back.”

  After running into Dalton at the Ugly Stick, she could understand. Dalton had always been the rowdier extrovert, while Grant had been the serious one. Three years ago, the combination of their personalities had swept her off her feet. She couldn’t believe how lucky she’d been to land not one, but two gorgeous men. It had been too good to be true and she should have seen it coming. These men were on the road more months out of the year than at home. Getting involved with them had been a mistake.

  Before her mother’s untimely death, she’d taught Mona two things: learn from your mistakes and tigers couldn’t change their stripes. So why was she jumping back into a relationship with a man who’d left her and what made her think this time would be better with Grant?

  She shoved her misgivings aside and asked, “Things working out with your new team ropin’ partner?”

  Grant’s lips tightened. “Yeah.”

  Ha! She’d hit a nerve. He must have seen her dancing with Sam the night before, and he might have been at his trailer when Sam returned that morning. She couldn’t picture Sam as the type of man who’d kiss and tell. But then he was a rodeo cowboy. Who knew the extent of what ropin’ partners shared over breakfast or a beer?

>   Mona tossed her long hair back over her shoulder, deciding to get things out in the open. “I slept with him last night.” Nothing like addressing the elephant in the room. Having lost this man once, she figured if he walked out of her shop never to return, what would be different today from yesterday? She had nothing to lose. If he couldn’t handle the fact she’d slept with his partner now, they wouldn’t have a chance. They’d dance all around it and let it gnaw at their insides.

  The muscle in the side of his jaw twitched and his full, kissable lips pressed so tightly they almost disappeared. He nodded. “Question is, did you sleep with him to get back at me?”

  She swished the beer in the bottle, studying it instead of Grant’s intense expression, and fell back on what Bunny had said earlier. “Well, now, that’s my business. I’m a female, single and over twenty-one. I can sleep with whomever I want.”

  Grant set his bottle to the side, shoved the food out of the way and slid closer to her, all in a few swift movements.

  Her heart hammering against her ribs, Mona couldn’t look away from him. Hell, his lips were only inches from hers. Heat rippled across her body in waves, swirling like a funnel cloud to the center of her being—her throbbing, aching core. A wash of fluid warmed her pussy, and she shifted on the blanket, wondering if he could smell her musk.

  Grant raised his hand to cup her face, his thumb brushing over her cheek and down to scrape across her lips. “Do his kisses leave you craving more?”

  “I believe they could,” Mona whispered against Grant’s lips.

  His hand slipped behind her neck and drew her closer until his mouth hovered over hers. He dipped in to claim her lips in a searing kiss that made her forget Sam, forget the three long years between them and forget where she was.

  When he allowed her to breathe again, he asked, “Do his hands skimming across your naked body make you burn inside?”

  “Umm, you bet.” Mona trailed her fingers over Grant’s shirt, found the top button and loosened it.

  His hand slipped beneath her stretchy shirt, grazing her skin, rising to cup one full, rounded breast.

  Her nipples peaked, pressing against the lace of her bra.

  Grant pushed the bra upward, exposing her nipple to his rough hand. “Does he make you so crazy with passion you beg for more?”

  “Oh yes, please. More.” She pushed him onto his back and ripped through the buttons on his shirt. “All those thick, hard muscles make me want to climb on and ride him like a buckin’ friggin’ bronc.”

  Grant’s hands cupped the backs of her thighs and followed the curve of her buttocks up beneath her skirt to her panties. Then he slid beneath the elastic and poked a finger into her tight, round anus, the pressure making her body ignite all over.

  A moan rose from her throat and she ground her pussy against the ridge of his fly, fumbling beneath her to release the remaining shirt buttons, shoving it open to expose his chest. Then she grabbed for his belt buckle. “It was like an eight-second ride—surprising, exciting and much too short.” She snagged the tab on his zipper and yanked it down, his cock springing free of the constraints. “So we did it again. Does that bother you?”

  “No. Actually, it makes me hot.” He pushed aside the strap of her thong panties and nudged her with his cock. “What about taking it slow? Starting over?”

  She snorted. “We will, after this.”

  He shifted, raising up enough to slide his wallet out of his back pocket. From it, he retrieved a foil packet and tore it open.

  “Let me.” Mona took the condom and rolled it down over his thick, hard dick. Then she raised herself up over him. “Just so you know, your partner was good.”

  His fingers curled around her hips and he lifted her until she hovered over him, his cock poised to impale her. “Then I’ll have to prove I’m better.”

  Her breath lodged in her lungs, she whispered, “Commence proving yourself.”

  He eased her down over him until she fully sheathed him.

  Longer and thicker than Sam, though not by much, Grant filled her to full and lifted her off him to do it all again.

  With each stroke, Mona had to remind herself to inhale and let the air out, the pleasure so intense, she almost forgot to breathe.

  “Want me to slow down?” he asked, his voice strained, his face tense.

  “No.”

  Before she could guess his next move, he flipped her onto her back and pinned her wrists above her head.

  “Hold on, sweetheart, I’m gonna make you scream.”

  She lifted her head and glanced toward the door. “Should we lock the door?”

  “Now?” He slid a hand down to her mound, parted her folds and flicked her clit with one long thick finger.

  “Fuck the door,” she gasped.

  He laughed and leaned in, capturing her lips in a tender but insistent kiss, sucking her bottom lip between his teeth. Letting go of her hands, he pressed her legs wide, pushing her knees up, exposing her pussy to him. “You’re more beautiful than ever.” He traced around her moist entrance. “So wet and hot.”

  “Oh, please, don’t tease me.” She dug her fingers into his shoulders and dragged him close. “Come inside me, now.”

  Grant drove into her in one long, hard thrust.

  Mona dug her heels into the picnic blanket, raising her hips to meet him.

  Then he was sliding in and out of her like a piston, fast and furious until she shot over the top, her fingernails scraping across his back, her voice erupting from her throat in a low, moaning scream, unlike anything she’d ever heard from herself.

  In one last thrust he held her hips, burying himself so deep he had to be touching her soul, his cock throbbing. He bent to press a kiss to her lips then rose up and asked, “When is your next appointment, Mona?”

  His words ripped through her haze of lust and her head jerked up. Five minutes until her next appointment. “Damn.” And Mrs. Rutherford always came early—exactly five minutes early. The woman was one of the pillars of community, capable of spreading rumors—or in this case truths—like wildfire and turning others against you if she decided she didn’t like you. Mona couldn’t risk the bank finding out she’d been getting it on in her shop in the middle of the day. Not if she wanted them to take her serious as a business owner.

  “Get up.” Mona shoved hard, rolling him off her.

  “Why?” He peeled off the condom, eased his stiff member inside his jeans, tucked in his unbuttoned shirt, zipped his fly and then buckled his belt in quick, efficient movements.

  “My next appointment will be here any moment.” She grabbed food and napkins, stuffing them into the bag Grant had brought with him. “Move!”

  Grant scrambled to his feet, handed Mona the half-full beer bottles and the cooler, grabbed the corners of the blanket and scooped everything else up in one bundle and slung it over his shoulder. He held out his hand for the cooler.

  Mona shoved it toward him as the door opened, rattling the bell loud enough to make her jump and hide the beer bottles behind her back. She eased backward toward the trash bin.

  Mrs. Rutherford stepped in, wearing a tailored, cream-colored pantsuit, a long string of pearls and a broad-brimmed hat. “Oh, Mona, am I early?”

  “Not at all, Mrs. Rutherford. Grant was just leaving.” Mona’s legs bumped into the bin and she slipped the beer bottles inside.

  “What have you got there?” Mrs. Rutherford stepped aside as Grant strode past her, carrying the bundle and the cooler.

  “No worries, ma’am. Just here cleaning up the rat problem.”

  The older woman gasped, her gaze shooting to the floor, her body drawing up as if she’d climbed onto a stool. “Rats?”

  “Grant.” Mona reached out and hooked Mrs. Rutherford’s arm. “He’s kidding. He was just picking up some old hair rollers I’m having recycled. Weren’t you, Grant?” She shot him a scathing look.

  “What Mona said. No rats.” With a mock salute, he plunked his hat on his head. “I�
�ll see you at six.” And Grant was gone.

  Mona let out a long breath as if she’d been holding it the entire time Grant had been in the shop. Though her pulse still raced, she could now settle back into her routine and think through what had just happened. Holy hell! She’d had sex with Grant on the floor of her shop.

  “What was that man doing in here, really? Didn’t his momma raise him better than to run around with his shirt unbuttoned?” Mrs. Rutherford dropped her purse off her shoulder and stared at Mona’s chest. “Um, Mona, dear, your shirt is caught in the back of your bra, your panties are showing and you smell of beer. Should I come back when you’re better able to concentrate?”

  Mona almost laughed and replied, Sure and in what century would that be?

  “Didn’t see you at lunch,” Sam commented as he cinched the girth on his saddle one last time before they had to head to the box for the team roping competition.

  Grant dropped his stirrup, checked his rope and replied, “Had something to take care of in town.”

  “Not something.” Dalton Faulkner appeared beside him, leaned against the corner of their horse trailer and stuck a toothpick between his teeth, shifting it to the side to say, “More like someone.”

  Grant shot a narrow-eyed glare at the man.

  Sam glanced from his partner to Grant’s ex-partner. “What do you mean?” Grant had always been honest and above-board with him since he’d sobered up and they’d gotten serious about the rodeo. “You meet someone?” Sam couldn’t help but be happy for his friend. The man had been tight-lipped about his love life—the one subject he didn’t share with Sam. “Was it the girl you left the saloon with last night? You two patch things up?”

  “No.” Grant dropped to his haunches and checked the bell boots on his horse’s right front hoof. Not that he needed to, he’d checked them twice already and they were firmly in place. “Nothin’ to patch up on that front. I’m not interested in her.”

  “No, it wasn’t the pretty barrel racer he left the Ugly Stick with last night. It was someone you both know, wasn’t it?”