“And I’ve talked to you or seen you every day this week,” Sara reminded her, “and not once did you mention anything about a kissing booth.”
“Would you have helped if I had mentioned it?”
“Absolutely not.”
“And that’s exactly why I didn’t tell you,” Betsy admitted with a grin.
The look Sara sent her said she wasn’t appeased.
“Okay, Sara, I apologize for not telling you. But this kissing booth is a town tradition the mayor insists we include every year no matter how much anyone protests. Back when Redstone was first founded, women were scarce. The only chance most cowboys had to get a kiss was at the Founder’s Day booth.”
“You people sure are big on tradition,” Sara grumbled.
“You bet we’re big on tradition,” Betsy said. “But do you know how much money the kissing booth made last year?” Betsy answered her own question. “Twenty lousy dollars. We’ve tried to explain to the mayor that cowboys aren’t going to hand over their hard-earned money to kiss a bunch of women they’ve known since the cradle. And that’s another reason I didn’t tell you so you could back out. With a pretty new face like yours I guarantee we’re going to need a wheelbarrow to haul off all our money at the end of the day.”
“No, we’re going to need the wheelbarrow to haul off your dead body,” Sara threatened.
“You can kill me after we make tons of money,” Betsy promised. “The fire department needs new hoses for the truck and those hoses don’t come cheap.”
“And if I refuse?”
Betsy looked at Sara for a long time. “Then you’ll be missing a great opportunity to show everyone in town that you’re a good sport, Sara. And that you’re willing to do your part in your new community.”
When Sara didn’t answer, Betsy said, “Come on, Sara. What’s the harm in giving a few cowboys a kiss on the cheek?”
“Only on the cheek?”
“Only on the cheek,” Betsy assured her. She slid her purse off her shoulder, fished inside and handed Sara a compact and a tube of lipstick. “Bright red,” Betsy said, “to match the lips on the sign. Now lather up those lips and get ready to make us some money.”
Before Sara could argue, Betsy started yelling to the crowd of people walking up and down the street. “Kisses. Come get your kisses, cowboys. Ten dollars gets you a kiss from the prettiest lips in Redstone.”
Sara groaned and rolled her eyes.
But she lathered her lips just as Betsy instructed.
A nicely dressed man was the first one to walk up and stop in front of their booth. His three-piece suit was nicely pressed and his silver hair was impeccably groomed. He was sixty-something, a little on the chubby side, and he had the perpetual smile of a lifelong politician.
It didn’t really surprise Sara when Betsy slapped him on the back and said, “This is our mayor, Gordon Cooper, Sara. Mayor Cooper is always the first customer in line at the kissing booth on Founder’s Day.”
Sara smiled at the man and said hello.
She noticed people were now gathering around the booth at a mind-spinning pace. Several people even clapped when the mayor reached into the pocket of his vest and produced a crisp ten-dollar bill. He closed his eyes, leaned forward and, to Sara’s horror, produced an absolutely perfect pucker.
“Go for it, Gordon!” someone yelled out.
That’s when Sara noticed Gabe standing at the back of the crowd, a big fat grin on his face at her predicament. She’d asked him point-blank what types of booths she could expect at Founder’s Day. And not once had he mentioned anything about the town’s traditional kissing booth.
So Gabe thinks this is funny, does he?
Sara placed her hands on both sides of the Mayor Cooper’s chubby cheeks and kissed the poor man so thoroughly she feared he might need the assistance of the volunteer fire department to resuscitate him when she finally let him go. No one said a word when the mayor practically staggered away from the booth.
Then one cowboy yelled, “Hot damn! I’m next.”
Within seconds, cowboys from every direction began falling in line. When Sara looked back at Gabe his big grin was gone. Seconds later, so was he.
Oh, no. What have I done? It was her first official appearance in town, and she’d obviously embarrassed Gabe thoroughly. Plus she’d almost given Redstone’s mayor a coronary.
“What part of cheek did you not understand?” Betsy leaned over and whispered. “We’re close to having a stampede on our hands here.”
“It was Gabe’s cheeky grin,” Sara whispered back. “He was laughing at me. And I’m sorry, but it made me furious.”
“Jeez,” Betsy said. “I wish you two would just jump each other’s bones and get it over with.”
“Betsy!”
But Betsy turned back to face the rowdy crowd and do a little damage control. “Sorry, boys,” she said with a big grin, “but the rest of you only get a kiss on the cheek. Only Mayor Cooper qualifies for lip service, since that’s what Gordon gives us most of the time.”
Everybody laughed.
But not a single cowboy fell out of line.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
COWBOY AFTER COWBOY took any type of kiss Sara was willing to give them before they strolled off down the street, an imprint of her bright red lips on their cheeks, and a big smile on their faces. Betsy was happy raking in the money. The crowd cheered the cowboys on. Sara was even getting caught up in the merriment.
Until her worst nightmare became a reality.
From out of nowhere, Ronnie Kincaid slithered up to join the rest of the curious onlookers, a far-from-friendly smile on her face. Everything about the woman screamed sex appeal. Black silk shirt, unbuttoned to show her cleavage. Black skintight jeans and black high-heeled boots. Pouting lips. Bedroom eyes.
She could have been featured in an X-rated movie.
And there stood Sara, looking like Mary Poppins.
Call her the Princess of Paranoia, but Sara knew it wasn’t her imagination that everyone kept looking at Ronnie, then back at her. They were comparing the dowdy wife to the sex-kitten girlfriend. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out who was winning most of the votes.
Ronnie moved a little closer to the booth.
Sara stood a little straighter.
Her first instinct was to call out to Ben, who was running across the street with Junior to join a group of other children. But she thought better of it when Ronnie’s cold gaze narrowed in her direction. Better if Ben were safely on the other side of the street, Sara quickly decided, when another glance around the crowd proved that Mr. Close-at-Hand was still nowhere to be found.
Sara managed to smile at the cowboy who had just handed over his money, but she continued to watch her enemy out of the corner of her eye. And Ronnie was sure laying it on thick—mingling here and there, strutting her stuff, laughing a bit too loudly.
She was definitely up to something.
It didn’t calm Sara’s nerves when a good-looking cowboy walked up beside Ronnie and threw his arm possessively around her shoulder. Betsy had mentioned she heard Ronnie was seeing someone. But Sara suspected Ronnie was only trying to make Gabe jealous. And when Ronnie whispered something in the cowboy’s ear that made him throw his head back and laugh, her suspicions were confirmed.
Gabe had brought his fake wife to town.
So Ronnie had decided to bring her fake boyfriend.
“Red alert,” Betsy warned, as if Sara couldn’t already see that for herself. “I think you’d better take a break until the storm blows by.”
“Thank you,” Sara said, and quickly stepped aside.
“Okay, boys,” Betsy said. “I think it’s time we gave this pretty lady a break. Pretty lips like hers aren’t used to kissing scruffy faces. But I’m a hometown gal. Scruffy is all I know.”
A groan of disapproval rumbled through the crowd.
“Forget it, Betsy,” called one of the cowboys in line. “I’m not paying ten dollars to
kiss somebody I kissed for free in sixth grade.”
The crowd clapped and hollered at his comment.
“But I’m a much better kisser than I was in sixth grade, Jim,” Betsy replied. “Step on up here and find out for yourself.”
More laughs. More clapping.
Sara was beginning to think Betsy had saved the day.
“I’ll pay one hundred dollars for a kiss from that pretty brunette,” the cowboy standing with Ronnie called out.
Everyone turned to look at him.
“French style,” he added, looking Sara up and down with a leering grin. “Long and slow.”
Nobody laughed this time.
But even more people began gathering around the booth. Waiting, Sara knew, for the fireworks to begin.
Damn you, Gabe Coulter, Sara thought at the exact same time an unexpected arm slid tightly around her waist.
“Are you deaf, Charlie?” Gabe called out to Ronnie’s cohort. “My wife is taking a break.”
It was so quiet Sara could hear her own heart beating.
“Maybe you should let your wife decide for herself if she’s taking a break, Gabe?” he said with a satisfied smirk. “She might like it. From what I hear, she isn’t even getting kissed over at the Crested-C.”
Without warning Gabe pulled Sara to face him.
And he kissed her senseless.
It was a kiss filled with every ounce of passion she’d been trying to suppress. A kiss that made the world stop, the cheers from the rowdy crowd fade and time stand perfectly still.
When their lips parted, Gabe looked as shaken as Sara felt. But he kept his arm tightly around her waist when he sent Ronnie’s troublemaker another deadly look. “You heard wrong, Charlie,” Gabe said. “But if you’re still looking to get kissed today, I’d say your best bet is standing right beside you.”
Sara felt her face flame.
Gabe had kissed her. But only to make Ronnie jealous.
Ronnie smacked Charlie’s arm off her shoulder and stomped down the street, pushing people out of her way. Charlie only laughed and strolled after her.
Sara slowly eased out of Gabe’s grasp. But she was way too angry to pretend that she wasn’t.
Turning her back to the crowd, Sara snapped, “The next time you decide to make Ronnie jealous, Gabe, don’t do it at my expense.”
“I thought you said my personal life was none of your business.”
“It isn’t. As long as you don’t put me in the middle.”
“You’re wrong, Sara,” he said. “I was only trying to protect you.”
“Protect me? Protecting me would have been making sure your girlfriend kept her word and didn’t make a scene.”
Anger flashed in his eyes again. Then he dug into the front pocket of his jeans and handed over the keys to the Cherokee. “I think it’s best if I ride back with the boys. You and Ben can take the Cherokee.”
“Gladly!” And she meant it.
Gabe walked away.
But nothing would ever be the same between them again.
Not after a kiss like that one.
CHARLIE GRABBED the driver’s side door of the Suburban before Ronnie could slam it. “Let go of the damn door, Charlie,” Ronnie warned. “I mean it.”
She tried to pull it shut, but he was stronger.
“Move over,” he said, giving her a push. “I drove you here. I’ll drive you home.”
Several people had already stopped to watch. Ronnie leveled a she-devil glare in their direction. They took the hint and hurried on down the street.
Only then did Ronnie give in and move over so Charlie could slide behind the wheel. But they were well out of Redstone before Charlie finally looked over at her.
“I’m the one who should be pissed off, you know,” he said. “Gabe was ready to kick my ass back there.”
Ronnie glared at him. “You could still get your ass kicked if you don’t shut up.”
He had the nerve to laugh.
“I hate it for you, babe,” he taunted. “But if that kiss didn’t prove how Gabe feels about his new wife, you need your vision checked.”
“I said shut up!”
“And Gabe does have himself one fine-looking woman,” Charlie rambled on. “No one can argue about that.”
Ronnie made a lunge for him.
Charlie held her off with one hand.
“She’s just not my type,” he added.
“She’s breathing, isn’t she?” She flopped back against her seat in a huff.
“Yeah, she’s breathing. And she’ll probably be breathing pretty hard later tonight.”
This time Ronnie’s fist connected up against his jaw.
Again, Charlie only laughed at her.
“No, sir,” he said. “Gabe’s wife isn’t my type at all.” He sent Ronnie a smoldering look that left no doubt about what was on his mind. “No, I like my women bold and brassy. Hard to handle. You never know what to expect from a woman like that. But you can always guarantee one thing. The sex will be sizzling and leave you begging for more.”
Their eyes locked for a second.
A white-hot heat spread through Ronnie like a flash fire. Charlie always knew exactly what to say to make her wet—get her hot—and make her want him.
Rough—no holding back.
That’s the way she liked it.
And that’s the way Charlie liked to give it to her.
He made a detour onto a dirt road leading down to the river. And by the time Charlie pulled the Suburban to a stop in a secluded area, Ronnie had forgotten all about Gabe giving his silly wife a stupid kiss. Charlie came at her the same way he always came at her, pulling her against him, devouring her mouth with his, taking her prisoner.
“Let’s get in the back,” Ronnie moaned when his tongue slid down her neck to lick the space between her breasts.
Minutes later she was naked and waiting for him on the folded-down backseat. He took his time climbing into the back of the truck, taunting her as he slowly unhooked his belt buckle. Finally, he let his jeans drop, giving Ronnie a good look at just how much he wanted her.
In one swift motion, he flipped her on her stomach.
Ronnie climaxed the second he plunged inside her.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
IT WAS AFTER TEN on Sunday morning when Gabe tossed the last of his gear into the back of his truck. He’d skipped breakfast, in no mood to see Sara. And he’d spent the morning in the bunkhouse making a list of things he wanted done while he was gone. How long he’d be gone, Gabe wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he had to put some distance between him and the woman who had his head all screwed up.
He still couldn’t believe he’d lost control like that. Or that he’d actually been jealous over some damn silly kissing booth. But when every cowboy in the county started lining up to kiss Sara, he’d gone from jealous to outright pissed.
Then rage had taken over when Ronnie’s foreman tried to harass Sara. Gabe should have just knocked Charlie out and put an end to it. Instead, Gabe had made a big mistake.
He’d kissed her.
Now there was no turning back.
At least not to the pretend existence he’d been trying to maintain since the day he brought Sara home. And that’s what had him worried. Taking that giant step off the cliff called love scared the hell out of Gabe.
Chances were he’d never survive the fall.
“I never thought I’d see the day when someone else’s horses were more important than your own,” Smitty said as he limped in Gabe’s direction.
Gabe’s scowl didn’t keep Smitty from lumbering up beside him. “I told you,” Gabe said. “I’m just trying to help a friend out, that’s all.”
And part of his statement was true.
His good friend Rowdy Stancil had called a few days earlier complaining about a new stallion he couldn’t quite break. Gabe had given Rowdy a few suggestions on the phone. But it wasn’t until Gabe realized he was head over heels in love that he decided to pay Rowd
y a visit in person.
“Rowdy ain’t much of a friend, if you ask me,” Smitty said, still trying, Gabe knew, to get a rise out of him before he left the ranch. “Nope. In my book, friends don’t expect a man to run off and leave his crew shorthanded during the busiest time of the year.”
Gabe ignored the comment and stomped to the driver’s side. Smitty matched every step he took, despite the use of his cane. Once inside the cab, Gabe slammed the door and frowned at Smitty again.
“What’s the matter, old man? You getting too frail to run this ranch without me?”
Smitty flashed a grin. “Are you too lovesick to stay and run this ranch yourself?”
Gabe frowned again, but he didn’t bother to deny the accusation.
Gabe’s only reply was to turn on the ignition and leave Smitty standing in a cloud of dust in the middle of the driveway.
Nosy old buzzard, Gabe thought, and picked up speed.
But it wasn’t until he was miles away from the ranch that he finally relaxed his grip on the steering wheel and settled into his seat. What he needed was some good advice from his old friend Rowdy.
Some no-nonsense cowboy advice to be exact. And Rowdy was just the person to give it to him.
Rowdy always put his ranch first. He took his horses seriously, and there wasn’t a female alive who had the power to tempt Rowdy Stencil into participating in some lovesick bullshit.
Love.
How could Gabe possibly be in love with someone he’d only known a couple of months? But he knew the answer before the question crossed his mind. He’d fallen in love with Sara the day she’d been standing at the picnic table in Texas, baring her soul and angry enough to cry.
But Rowdy will straighten me out.
Gabe put the pedal to the metal and headed for Montana.
Maybe they’d even take a few packhorses and head to the high country and get in a little trout fishing. Sleep out under the stars for a night or two. Get back to nature, where a man had the freedom to take a good look at his life and reaffirm his deepest beliefs. The same type of freedom a man lost when his heart got all tangled up with a woman who could render him defenseless with the turn of her head.
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