by Marin Thomas
“Mack, is it true that you’ve gone to jail?”
He wasn’t proud of his trips to the slammer. “The charges never stuck.”
“When was the last time you took a ride in a squad car?”
“Four years ago when I was twenty-five.”
“You’re only twenty-nine?”
The surprise in her voice confused him. “How old are you?”
Her chin jutted. “Thirty-one.” The line between her eyebrows deepened. “Why didn’t the charges ever stick?” she asked.
He set his hand against her lower back and guided her over to a chute where rodeo workers were loading a bronc. He dropped his gear bag, took Beth by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “The charges didn’t stick because I had witnesses who backed up my story. I always try to walk away from a fight, but sometimes the crowd blocks off your escape and you’re left with no choice but to fight your way out of a bar.” When Beth continued to watch him with wary eyes, he lowered his voice. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”
“No. But I’ve never known a man who isn’t afraid to settle a dispute with his hands.”
“Don’t tell me your husband never got into a fight.”
“Are you kidding?” She snorted. “His face is too valuable to mess up.”
What the hell kind of man had Beth married? Any guy who put more stock in his face than his honor was a dweeb.
The announcer introduced the final bareback contestant, which meant Mack had better focus on his own ride and impressing Beth. He removed his saddle from the bag. “I blame my mother. She burdened me with a name that amuses people. After a while the jokes get old.”
“I understand.” Her soulful brown eyes spoke the truth.
“I’m coming out of this chute. If you stand over there—” he pointed several feet away “—you’ll have a better view of the action.”
“Sure.” She hesitated, shoving her hands into her jeans pockets. The action drew her shirt against her chest, showing the subtle outline of her breasts—breasts that he’d enjoyed.
“Good luck.” Beth spun, but Mack caught her arm.
“What about my good-luck kiss?” He held his breath, waiting to see if she’d comply. She didn’t disappoint him. She rose on tiptoe but when he attempted to meet her mouth halfway, she turned her head and his kiss landed on her cheek.
“Don’t fall off your horse, cowboy.”
Mack was as determined to make it to eight as he was to collect a proper kiss from Beth before the day ended.
* * *
BETH STOOD IN the shadows watching Mack prepare for his ride—noticing his stony expression and matter-of-fact movements as he put on his spurs and riding glove. If not for his casual glances in her direction she’d almost believe he’d forgotten she existed.
“Ladies and gents, we’re ready for the saddle-bronc event!” The announcer’s voice thundered over the loudspeaker above her head.
“Folks, in order to score well, the cowboy must spur the whole eight seconds. This event is as close to rodeo ballet as you’ll ever get. The cowboy and horse will score highest if they perform together in a smooth, rhythmic ride.”
Mack slipped on a protective vest, and Beth breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t as crazy as some of the cowboys who wore nothing but colorful shirts to protect themselves from a kick to the chest.
“First out of the gate this afternoon is Mack Cash.”
The applause that echoed throughout the arena stunned Beth.
The announcer’s jovial guffaw added to the noise. “Sounds as if we have a few Cowboy Rebels fans here today.” A second wave of deafening noise filled the arena. “For those of you who don’t know...Mack Cash is the lead singer of the band Cowboy Rebels.”
“I love you, Mack!” A buckle bunny stood in the stands holding a sign with a pink heart painted on it.
Jealousy pricked Beth. She shoved the stinging sensation aside, but not before she shocked herself by admitting she was jealous of the younger woman. During her short marriage to Brad, never once had she felt envious of women who’d ogled him or stopped him on the street for his autograph.
She had a one-night stand with Mack, and had expected nothing to come of it—so it was crazy that she didn’t care for other women lusting after him.
“Cash has his work cut out for him,” the announcer said. “He’s drawn Widow Maker and this bucker spins faster than an F-5 tornado!”
That didn’t sound reassuring.
“As with all the events today, for every cowboy who makes it to the buzzer, the First Community Bank is donating a hundred dollars to the medical clinic. Ten cowboys have made the list. Let’s see if Cash is gonna be number eleven.”
Mack climbed the rails and eased onto the brown-and-white-spotted horse. Beth caught only glimpses of his profile as others gathered close, ready to help him if need be. After the cowboys moved away from the chute, her breath caught in her throat at the magnificent sight Mack made—hat tilted low over his head, his hips and shoulders leaning forward, his mouth pressed into a thin line.
The gate opened and Mack disappeared from view. She rushed closer and climbed the rails, then wished she hadn’t when she watched the bronc buck wildly. Mack slid forward in the saddle, and she feared he’d tumble headfirst over the front of the horse, but he managed to hang on—a miracle that was short-lived. Widow Maker vaulted into the air then rotated into a dizzying spin that must have put a horrible strain on Mack’s arm. She was amazed the limb didn’t tear away from its socket.
How many seconds had passed? She was afraid to take her eyes off Mack. Finally, the buzzer sounded and she breathed a sigh of relief, which she inhaled back into her body when Mack slid down the horse’s side. Why didn’t he let go? Why was he fighting to stay on the bronc?
The pickup men raced toward the horse, one waving his hands, the other trying to inch close enough to loosen the strap beneath the animal’s belly. It happened simultaneously—the flank strap broke free and Mack hit the ground. When he attempted to get to his feet, Widow Maker’s hoof caught him in the shoulder and sent him sprawling into the dirt again, while a rodeo helper escorted the horse away.
Beth’s heart thudded painfully in her chest as Mack slowly crawled to his feet and collected his battered hat.
“Mack Cash is gonna live to sing another song! Looks like Cash not only earned the clinic an extra hundred dollars, but his score of eighty-one moves him into second place!” The crowd’s applause thundered through the stands.
Mack walked gingerly out of the arena, and Beth didn’t know what to do. Should she wait where she was or run to him and see if he was okay?
Stay right where you are. You’re just friends.
Are you crazy, girl? Go!
As soon as she caught a glimpse of Mack’s hat, Beth took off—she couldn’t have stopped her legs from moving if she’d tried.
The cowboys congratulating Mack noticed her and stepped aside, then it was just the two of them. In that brief instant she felt protective and possessive of him all at once. She didn’t understand her feelings—and didn’t care. She needed to know that he was okay and the only way to do that was to touch him.
She launched herself at his chest and squeezed his neck. “Are you hurt?” The scent of dust and sweat and Mack’s aftershave enveloped her in a warm hug.
“I’m fine, darlin’.”
Beth pressed her lips to Mack’s, cheers and whistles echoing in her ears as raw emotion pumped through her veins. Fear for Mack’s safety and relief that he was okay gave way to a painful arousal that caught her off guard.
He deepened the kiss, sweeping his tongue inside her mouth. Good thing he held her because her insides had turned to mush, and the only thing preventing her from pulling him to the ground was the fifty or more cowboys watching them.
<
br /> Mack broke off the kiss, his grin fueling her desire. “If this is the reward waiting for me after my ride, I think I’ll retire my guitar and go back on the circuit.”
Chapter Five
“Hey, Mack! It’s karaoke night at The Barn. You gonna be there?”
Mack stopped walking but didn’t release Beth’s hand. After the kiss she’d planted on him in front of his competitors, he wasn’t letting her out of his sight. “I don’t know.” He glanced at Beth. “You up for a little dancing after the rodeo?”
“No, thank you. I need to get back to the ranch.”
He wanted to ask what for but held his tongue.
“Besides, I’m not dressed for a night on the town.”
She was making excuses. “There’s nothing wrong with what you’re wearing.”
“Jeans and a T-shirt with Black Jack Mountain written across the front are hardly dancing attire.”
Mack whispered in her ear. “Darlin’, it wasn’t your clothes that attracted me to you at the Number 10.”
She scrunched her nose before admitting, “I would like to hear you sing again.”
Yes! He executed a mental fist pump. “Let’s grab a bite to eat before we head over to the dance hall.” Their dinner took less than an hour and when Mack pulled into the lot behind the bar, which had once been a hay barn, Beth was already squirming in her seat.
“The Barn has a mechanical bull.” He grinned. “Saturday is ladies’ night. You ride for free.”
“Oh, no.” She got out of the truck and shut the door before he made it past the hood. “You’re not coaxing me onto a bull, Merle Haggard.”
“I’m gonna give you a pass on using my given name.” He leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “Because it sounds sexy coming from your mouth.” He kissed her—a light brush of his lips across hers. When they reached the door, he paid the cover charge then an onslaught of whistles and shouts greeted him as they stepped inside. Beth tensed, and he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze as he led her through the crowd.
“You singing a few Haggard tunes tonight, Mack?” a cowboy at the bar asked.
“You bet I am.” He tipped his hat to a group of ladies shouting song titles at him.
He stopped at a table next to the stage. “How’s this?”
“Fine.” Beth sat with her back to the wall.
“Red wine?” At her nod, he said, “Be right back.”
Ten minutes later he set their drinks on the table and took his seat. Beth gulped the wine in her glass, her attention centered on the mechanical bull. Maybe she was drinking up the courage to ride.
“Ladies and gents, welcome to The Barn!” The MC adjusted the microphone stand on the stage. “I’m Mike, your host for the evening.” He waited for the clapping to die down. “Saturday night is ladies’ night and Todd over there is warming up Rex, our mechanical bull.” Todd flipped the switch and the bucking machine spun in quick circles. The buckle bunnies whistled and cheered, then Todd adjusted the speed and the headless bull settled into a slow, rocking motion, drawing catcalls from the cowboys.
“We’re running the karaoke contest simultaneously with the cowgirl bull-riding contest,” the MC said. “You ladies can listen to your favorite wailing cowboys while you ride!”
The MC waved. “C’mon up on stage, Mack. You know the ladies are waiting for you to sing.” Cheers filled the bar. “Mack Cash, the lead singer of the Cowboy Rebels, will go first then we’ll see how the rest of you howlers out there measure up.”
Mack grabbed Beth’s hand. “You ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“The cowboy who comes up on stage to sing gets to pick the girl he wants to ride Rex.”
Her eyes widened. “I can’t ride that...that...thing.” She slid down in her chair.
“I guess I can ask one of the other ladies...” He made a pretense of searching the crowd.
Beth tracked his gaze around the room.
Mack stood and held out his hand. “Honey, there’s nothing to it.” When she didn’t budge, he leaned over the table. “If you can ride me, you can ride that bull.” Her cheeks turned red, and he loved that he could make her blush.
“Pick me, Mack! Pick me!” a redhead shouted from across the room.
Beth sprang from her seat. “I’ll ride.”
Thrilled that she was jealous of the buckle bunny, he tugged her after him.
“Mack Cash has picked his filly.” The MC patted the microphone, making loud thumping noises. “What’s your name, pretty lady?”
“Beth,” Mack shouted.
“Let’s see if cowgirl Beth can ride Rex until Mack finishes his song. If she does, then her drinks are on the house tonight!”
Todd helped Beth climb onto the mechanical bull while Mack detoured and took the microphone from the MC. “I’m singing ‘Ever Changing Woman’ by Merle Haggard.” Mack waited for Todd to start the machine. When the bull began moving, Mack belted out the song. He did fine with the first two verses then stumbled when Rex switched directions and Beth began to slide. Todd slowed the machine’s movements so Beth could regain her balance. When she sat upright, her body undulated in a way that made him think of soft mattresses and sweet-smelling sheets.
Wolf whistles echoed through the air and Mack’s gaze shifted to the rowdy cowboys gathering near Rex. Even though Beth wasn’t dressed like a buckle bunny, her T-shirt pulled tight across her chest, revealing the shape and size of her breasts.
Mack forgot about the women in front of the stage ogling him and focused on Beth and the cowboys cheering for her. A possessive heat filled him and when he finished his song, he made a beeline for the bull.
“Cowgirl Beth rode Rex until Mack Cash finished his song.” The MC thumped his fingers against the microphone. “Give the lovebirds a round of applause.” While the next singing cowboy and lady bull rider were introduced, Mack watched Todd help Beth off the machine. When her feet hit the mat, she pitched forward and Todd caught her by the waist. Their feet tangled and they tumbled to the pad, Beth sprawling on top of Todd. Mack reacted before thinking and swooped in, picking Beth up and swinging her into his arms. He carried her off the mats and set her on her feet outside the pen.
“I did—”
Whatever Beth had been about to say was cut off by Mack’s mouth. When he pulled back, Beth resumed talking as if she’d barely been aware he’d kissed her. “I was pretty good, wasn’t I?”
“You rode that bull like a bona fide cowgirl.” He ushered her to their table and a waitress placed a glass of red wine in front of her.
“I didn’t think I’d like that.” She struggled to catch her breath. “It was a lot of fun.”
“You’re a natural.” Maybe he should suggest they leave before she decided she wanted a second go ’round on Rex.
“Excuse me.” A deep voice floated over Mack’s shoulder. He spun in his seat and swallowed a laugh. The cowboy wore brand-new jeans, a knock-off Western belt, a Wrangler shirt from the sale rack at Sheplers and pointy-toed boots.
“What do you want?” Mack ignored the nudge Beth gave his calf beneath the table. So what if he was rude? He didn’t appreciate other men homing in on his girl.
The guy removed his hat, revealing a head of curly hair. “Beth, my name is Larry. Would you care to dance?”
“She wouldn’t—”
“I’d love to.” Beth was out of her chair and in Larry’s arms before Mack picked his jaw up off the floor.
The city slicker, masquerading as a cowboy, pulled her close—way too close for a first dance. With Mack’s luck, the guy was probably Beth’s type—a corporate stuffed shirt. He didn’t let them out of his sight—not even when a pretty blonde asked him to dance. He guided the girl across the dance floor toward Beth and Larry. “Care to switch partners?” Mack deposited the
blonde in Larry’s arms and whisked Beth away.
Beth laughed. “Mack Cash, I think you’re jealous.”
“Damn right, I’m jealous.” He twirled her across the floor, wishing he hadn’t suggested karaoke night at The Barn.
“We’re just friends, remember?”
“Yeah, well, a guy’s got a right to change his mind.”
* * *
THE DRIVE BACK to the ranch took forever, leaving Beth plenty of time to think about her and Mack and the crazy game of friendship they were playing. Earlier in the night when the svelte redhead had jumped out of her seat, demanding Mack pick her to ride the mechanical bull the burning jealousy that swept through Beth had shocked her.
She was a grown woman not a simpering buckle bunny. It was time to admit she was losing control of the situation between her and Mack. The more she hung out with him, the more she wanted to be with him—and not just as a friend. She couldn’t remember the last time Brad had taken her anywhere to have fun. But because of the popularity of the Cowboy Rebels, fun followed Mack wherever he went. A part of Beth yearned to go along for the ride with him and throw caution to the wind. But with her heart still bruised and battered from the divorce she feared that when her time with Mack ended, her heart would be broken clean through.
“You’re awfully quiet.” Mack smiled at her.
“I’m tired,” she lied. “Riding bulls is hard work.”
He chuckled. “Dave’s got an old bucking machine hidden away in the storage room at the back of the barn. I could give you lessons if you want.”
“Once was enough, thanks.” Beth closed her eyes and imagined Mack sitting behind her on the bull, his arms holding her close as their bodies swayed in rhythm to the machine’s movements.
“Have you ever been to Stagecoach?”
“No.” She’d heard of the small town but had never ventured east of Yuma except to visit Tucson and the trip to Rattlesnake.
