Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume VIII: The Cowboy Who Never Grew UpHooked

by Kimberly Raye

  It was a kiss like no other, and just when she was really getting into it, he drew back.

  He stared down at her, his breathing hard, his blue eyes dark and unreadable, as if he couldn’t quite believe what had just happened. The look faded quickly, however, into a teasing light.

  He grinned and reached around to pat her on the ass cheek.

  The sudden motion jolted her from the daze of the passionate kiss and she came to her senses. “Are you going to sign the papers now?” she managed to say with stiff lips.

  “Can’t.” He shook his head, staring down at the contracts which had landed in a puddle of water at his feet. “I’m afraid they’re ruined.” And then he waltzed past her and headed for the adjoining bedroom. “On the bright side, we’ve got a hell of a party ahead of us so the night isn’t a complete bust.”

  The slam of a door punctuated his words and she was left standing in the steamy bathroom, staring at the soggy papers on the floor.

  A party?

  Did he really think a party was even in the realm of possibility with her future hanging in the balance?

  That would have been her father’s solution for just such a problem. He never worried too much about anything. Instead, he would have hit the nearest bar to show the world that no matter what the breaks, he was still baseball’s favorite rowdy boy.

  No way was she waltzing outside to watch Pete and his cretin friends feed the rumor mill that already surrounded them. She was a professional and it was high time she started acting like one. He’d toyed with her enough and no wonder. Every time he looked at her, she forgot all about her job and morphed into another one of the countless buckle bunnies who melted at the first touch.

  Distance. That’s what she needed.

  She needed to get on her cell, have another contract sent out ASAP, and then call a cab. She would check herself into the nearest motel and wait him out. He had to sign eventually.

  And if he didn’t?

  She forced aside the thought. He would. However wild and reckless, he hadn’t made it to the top of the PBR heap by being stupid. The deal was a good move, particularly since she knew beyond a doubt that Pete wasn’t as young and wild as he wanted everyone to think.

  As young and wild as he wanted to think.

  She’d seen the flash in his eyes when she’d called him out. She’d hit a nerve, even if he didn’t want to admit it.

  He would. He was taking a beating and it was just a matter of time before it caught up to him.

  In the meantime, she was going to establish some boundaries and show Pete Gunner that at least one of them could behave responsibly. And she wasn’t—repeat was not—going to think about his kiss and the fact that she’d liked it a lot more than she should have.

  She’d seen too many women fall for her father and get their hearts broken as a result.

  She wouldn’t be like those women.

  Even if Pete Gunner had given her the most exciting kiss of her life.

  6

  SHE WAS STUCK HERE.

  Wendy came to that realization the moment she got off the phone with the town’s one and only cab company.

  Red’s Cabs. Only in reality there was no s in “Cabs”—Red just went with the plural form for advertising purposes, or so he’d told her. He had one car and he was currently busy picking up a special supply of imported dog food from the nearest airstrip—over an hour away—for the mayor’s wife. By the time Red got home, had his supper and drank his milk, it would be time for Dancing with the Stars.

  Bottom line? She wasn’t going anywhere until tomorrow morning.

  So much for establishing some boundaries and a safe working distance with Mr. Wild and Irresponsible.

  Even more upsetting, Lisa had already left with Mike and wasn’t picking up her phone. Wendy had left a message about having new contracts sent out asap but she knew nothing could happen until Monday morning.

  She stared at her reflection in the mirror, her gaze drawn to the plain black skirt and white buttoned-up blouse. She’d worn almost the exact same outfit to the company Christmas party last year. It was like all the other outfits in her closet—functional, conservative, low-key.

  All except for the red dress Lisa had given her for her birthday. The dress screamed Do me, which was why Wendy hadn’t actually worn it yet.

  Rather, she’d stuck with the classics because they were reliable. Even more, they projected that she was reliable.

  A far cry from the women who’d drifted in and out of her dad’s life. His longest relationship had been with a groupie who’d followed him to training camp one year. He’d kept her around approximately three weeks before ditching her via voice mail. Wendy could still see the woman standing on the doorstep in a hot-pink dress cut down to there and up to here, hoping to pour her heart out to him and change his no-commitment policy.

  A wasted effort.

  Mitch Darlington had sworn off relationships when he’d lost his wife of four years in a car accident and had been stuck with a toddler. He hadn’t wanted anything permanent and so he’d sought out women who looked more temporary. Party girls who’d put it all out there with their skimpy clothes and trashy talk.

  Wendy wanted more, and so she’d made sure to dress the part. To attract the right man.

  Like Jim the accountant.

  She tried to conjure an image of the mild-mannered accountant, but for some reason, she couldn’t. Instead, she kept seeing Pete’s smiling face, the flash of guilt in his eyes when she’d called him out. The glimmer of denial.

  Ugh.

  The sound of the band kicking up carried through the window, effectively distracting her from her thoughts. She walked over to take a quick peek.

  There were already people everywhere. In the distance, pickup trucks, Jeeps and SUVs roared down the dirt road, congregating in the field just to the left. It seemed as if the entire town had turned out for Wade Gunner’s eighteenth birthday.

  Her gaze hooked on a trio of identical women standing near the dance floor. Long, lustrous dark brown hair, lots of makeup, big chests and tiny waists. They wore cut-off blue-jean short shorts and pink cowboy boots. The tiny white tee stretched across their ample breasts read The Lost Boys...Cowboy Up!

  Buckle bunnies.

  Even worse, they were half-dressed buckle bunnies who oozed sex appeal.

  If only she’d stashed her skimpy red dress in her bag before she’d left Houston.

  Excuse me? She wasn’t here vying for Pete Gunner’s attention, even if deep down he wasn’t as wild and reckless as he wanted everyone to think. He was still walking the walk and talking the talk, and so he was off-limits. More important, she was here as a representative of Western America. A professional. Despite the kiss in the bathroom.

  A fluke. That’s all it had been. Her deprived hormones. His well-calculated ploy to keep from signing the papers.

  And it wasn’t happening again.

  Gathering her determination, she headed downstairs to the kitchen. A quick snack and she would tackle the work in her briefcase. She’d just hit the bottom step when she heard a commotion behind her at the top of the stairs.

  She stepped to the side just as three figures came barreling down.

  “Give it back.” Wade Gunner wrestled with two men, one blond and one a brunet, desperately reaching for the hat that the dark-haired one held beyond arm’s reach. “It’s my new Resistol.”

  “Finders keepers,” said the brunet.

  “That’s right,” said the blond. “Ain’t you ever heard? Possession is nine-tenths of the law.”

  “You’re full of horse shit,” Wade said. “Now give.”

  “What do you think, Billy?” The brunet eyeballed the blond holding Wade’s arms. “Should I give it back?”

  “I don’t know, Jesse. Seems to me we ought to make him beg a little more.”

  “Have a heart, guys. It’s his birthday,” Wendy reminded the two men who held a frustrated Wade captive.

  Pete’s young
er brother looked as if his head was about to blow off and her heart went out to him. He didn’t stand a chance against the two muscular males who finally let him loose and started tossing the hat back and forth between them.

  “And who are you?” The dark-haired man chanced a glance at her in between throws.

  “Pete brought her here,” Wade said, and just like that, the hat landed in his hands.

  The two men wiped their hands on their jeans and thrust them toward her.

  “The name’s Billy Chisholm,” the blond told her, giving her a full grin.

  “Jesse Chisholm,” offered the brunet.

  She knew they were related even before she heard the names. While Jesse appeared dark and dangerous and Billy looked more like the boy next door, they still had the same eyes. Deep violet with gold flecks that seemed to twinkle as they stared at her. They wore starched Wranglers, pearl-snapped shirts and spit-polished cowboy boots.

  “Are you members of the Lost Boys?”

  They exchanged glances. “Darlin’, we are the Lost Boys.”

  “That’s not true,” Wade blurted, plumping up his now caved in hat. “There’s four more of ’em.”

  “Yeah, but two are team ropers, one’s a barrel racer and the other’s a bronc rider. Everybody knows they don’t count,” Billy said, giving her a wink. “I ride bulls.”

  “Yeah,” Jesse added. “So do I and I’m better at it.”

  Billy glared at Jesse. “Says who?”

  “The judges’ panel over in New Mexico. I kicked your butt last week.”

  “You’ve got a short memory, ’cause I distinctly remember being the one to kick your butt.” Billy shook his blond head and turned to Wendy. “Listen.” He gave her a smile that had undoubtedly charmed many a girl out of her panties. “I placed higher overall in rankings last year, so if you’re looking for someone for your next campaign, I’d be perfect.” He gave her a wide smile that said he wouldn’t mind getting his picture taken for a living.

  There was no denying that he had the looks. And the personality. But they needed a well-known face, and while everyone who followed the pro circuit had heard about the Lost Boys as a collective group, she’d be willing to bet that very few had ever heard of Billy Chisholm.

  Not yet, that is.

  “I’m afraid we’ve already got a spokesperson for the upcoming season.” Or they would just as soon as Pete Gunner got his act together and put his name on the dotted line. “But I’ll keep you in mind.”

  “Me, too,” Jesse said. “’Cause my name is gonna be bigger. That’s a promise, little lady.”

  “Bigger than what?” The question came from another cowboy who headed down the stairs. He was a few inches shorter, but just as well-built as the other two. Hot on his tail was his spitting image except that his medium-blond hair was a little shorter.

  “These are the twins,” Wade told her. “Jimmy and Jake Barber. They’re team ropers.”

  “More members of the Lost Boys?”

  “You know it,” Jimmy Barber told her. He pointed behind him to two more men descending the stairs. “There’s the last of the group.” He pointed to another brunet with a red gingham cowboy shirt and dimples that would make any woman swoon. “That’s Buck Davis, barrel racer and general badass, and that scary looking thing behind him is Cole Chisholm, resident bronc rider. He’s Jesse and Billy’s brother.” He motioned to the tallest of the bunch who had sun-kissed brown hair and the same violet eyes as the first two men. “Cole don’t like getting all fancied up.” Which explained why the man wore faded jeans, a T-shirt with a rip in the sleeve and a look that said I’ll tear you a new one later if you don’t shut the hell up.

  “I like getting dressed up just fine, but this is a barbecue. No reason to put on my church clothes.”

  “The Barbie triplets are here,” Billy reminded him.

  Cole’s eyes widened a split second before his brow pulled into a frown. “You’re messing with me.”

  “Honest to God,” Billy added. “Saw ’em pull up myself just a few minutes ago.”

  Cole’s gaze made the rounds before settling on Wendy. She nodded. “If they’re the three identical brunettes rocking pink cowboy boots, then I saw them, too.”

  “Dammit to hell.” Cole turned and bounded back up the stairs, taking two at a time.

  “Slow down,” Billy called after him. “It don’t make no nevermind what you look like anyhow. Those gals don’t give a lick about you. They’re here to see yours truly.”

  Cole shouted down a colorful example of where Billy could go and how fast he could get there before Wade chimed in. “It’s my birthday, which means they’re all here to see me.”

  “Who we talking about?” Pete asked as he rounded the corner.

  “The Barbie triplets,” Jesse offered.

  Pete grinned and Wendy’s heart practically stopped.

  What the hell?

  Here she was, smack-dab in the middle of cowboy central, and not one of the Wrangler-clad hotties, not even the three sexy Chisholm brothers, made her feel even a fraction of what Pete stirred up in her.

  Her heart revved, her stomach flipped and a tingle swept the length of her spine. Her lips trembled in memory of the heated kiss they’d shared upstairs and her traitorous hormones kicked in. Just like that, she found herself thinking again about her skimpy red dress.

  “You boys better get a move on. The place is filling up fast.” He turned his attention to Wade. “I saw a certain yellow Mustang pulling into the south pasture.”

  “Uh-oh,” Jesse Chisholm drawled, flicking a lock of Wade’s hair. “No wonder he spent an hour getting all prettied up.”

  “Did not.” Wade slapped at Jesse’s hand, smoothing his do back into place. His shirt was tucked in and his boots gleamed. Wendy couldn’t help the smile that crept across her face. “I needed a shower, is all.” He shrugged and glared at the group surrounding him. “You all try birthin’ a foal.”

  “Leave him alone,” Pete said to the smiling bunch. “And get on outside. We’ve got guests.”

  The cowboys ambled past, tipping their hats to Wendy as they went. Jesse paused just a few seconds longer and gave her a wink. “You’d better save a dance for me, Miss Wendy.”

  She didn’t have the heart to tell him she wasn’t going to the party, so she just smiled and nodded.

  “If you know what’s good for you, you’ll steer clear of Jesse.”

  Pete’s deep voice slid into her ears and she turned to find his gaze hooked on her, a dark look on his face, as if he wasn’t too pleased at the thought of her dancing with someone else.

  As if.

  Pete Gunner wasn’t any more possessive than the man on the moon. He floated from female to female and she’d do well to remember that.

  A traitorous thrill vibrated up her spine anyway. “And what’s so wrong with Jesse?”

  “It’s common knowledge he keeps time with anything in a skirt. It’s all about quantity for him.”

  “Isn’t that what it’s all about for you? No, wait, that’s just an act.”

  “Like hell it is—” he started, but then the sound of Eli calling his name cut him off. His grin was quick and easy, and her stomach hollowed out. “The more the merrier, sugar,” he drawled. “So are you going to add yourself to the list and give me another kiss?” The question was straightforward and to the point. Exactly what she expected from rodeo’s resident bad boy.

  Her reaction, however, wasn’t at all what she anticipated. Not after her mental tirade about distance and professionalism. Her throat went dry and her stomach hollowed out and her lips tingled. Desire rushed through her, drenching her from head to toe.

  “While I don’t think you’re half as bad as you want everyone to think, I still seriously doubt a kiss is all you want,” she finally managed to say, eager to remind herself that he was the worst kind of player.

  He chuckled, the sound a warm rumble up and down her spine. “No, but it’s a damned good start.”

>   She gathered her courage. “What happened upstairs was a mistake.”

  “The only mistake is the one you’re about to make by being stubborn and wasting a perfectly good opportunity to spend the evening with me.”

  “You really are full of yourself, aren’t you?”

  “It’s called being practical. You’re stuck here.” He shrugged as if he didn’t care one way or another, but his eyes gleamed with an intensity that told her he was more invested than he wanted her to think. “You might as well make the most of it.”

  “By kissing you?”

  “That, and a few other things.” His gaze darkened. “It’s the damnedest predicament, but I can’t seem to stop thinking about you.”

  “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

  “As a matter of fact, I do. I just don’t usually mean it.” His gaze locked with hers. “There’s just something about you...” He stared at her as if he didn’t any more understand the sizzle between them than she did. “For whatever reason, things heat up pretty quickly between us, and I can’t help but wonder just how hot it can get. It’s all I can think about, as a matter of fact. You. Me. Sex.” The last word skimmed across her nerve endings and firebombed in the pit of her stomach.

  No. That’s what she should have said. Right before she turned on her heel and walked away from him and his ridiculous offer. Pete Gunner was far, far away from what she wanted in her life.

  But maybe, just maybe, he was exactly what she needed at the moment.

  The thought struck and instead of pushing it away, she let it simmer for the next few moments. She was three hundred miles from the real world, stuck on a ranch for the next forty-eight hours with a man so irresistible that it made her teeth ache. If she gave in to the lust raging deep down inside, she could sate her deprived hormones, stop acting like a nymphomaniac and remember her objective. If not, it was sure to be the longest night of her life.

  Doubt pushed and pulled at her and she thought of her father. Of all of the women who’d drifted in and out of his life. She’d vowed never to be one of those women.