Dirty-Talking Cowboy

by Stacey Kennedy

  Shep gave Tadgh another pat on his neck before moving along, keeping his focus on Bentley. He didn’t have rope with him, or any aid to help him, but this afternoon he intended to push the horse a little. He averted his gaze slightly, not looking Bentley in the eye, and kept walking forward. His stride was steady, though not fast enough to frighten Bentley; he still walked with intent to show the horse he wasn’t afraid. That was the trick. Bentley needed to trust Shep, and while Shep might have earned a smidgen of that trust already, he couldn’t show a hint of weakness or all the steps Bentley had taken forward would crumble.

  Intentionally, Shep stopped only two feet away from the gelding. He smiled, suddenly realizing he wasn’t alone. He leaned his hand back a little, and Tadgh nuzzled him. Being protective, was he?

  Shep slowly glanced up, making eye contact with Bentley. The horse stomped at the ground, snorting. Tadgh shot forward, ears pinned against his head, causing Bentley to back up against the fence. “I can handle him, Tadgh.” He patted Tadgh’s haunches, and Tadgh circled around Shep, coming back behind him.

  Then Shep waited for a long while, as long as Bentley needed, keeping his gaze on Bentley’s, his shoulders back and high.

  Tadgh eventually gave up and went back to eating the hay at the trough. Bentley, though, stared Shep down, never once calming, always on alert. It was now or never. Sometimes everyone needed a push, and this was Bentley’s. Slowly, Shep inched his way forward. Every time he took a step, Bentley’s head shot up higher, eyes becoming bright and alert.

  Again he waited, giving Bentley the time he needed to adjust and to see he was in no danger with Shep.

  Finally, and only centimeters away now, Shep held up his hand. Bentley snorted, his breath brushing over Shep’s hand. This time, he didn’t move away, and Shep smiled to himself. This wasn’t the first time Shep had dealt with a mistreated horse. Most horses sold at auction hadn’t had the best treatment in their lives. And he’d found Tadgh in a similar condition, though not as far gone as Bentley. Malnourished, untrusting, defiant, that was his Tadgh. The spirit in his horse was what first caught his eye.

  Shep waited and watched, not bothering to count the minutes, as Bentley slowly stretched out his neck, giving Shep’s hand a sniff. When he didn’t move away, Shep slowly stroked the horse’s nose with his knuckles. Bentley allowed the contract for a handful of seconds, before he snorted again, then strode by him, moving to Tadgh. Shep exhaled the breath he’d been holding and grinned, turning away. A small step to some, maybe, but it was a step in the right direction. Bentley was on his way.

  When he reached the fence, he climbed up and over the wooden planks, not wanting to disturb the horses. Especially since Bentley was eating the hay next to Tadgh.

  The moment his boots hit dirt, Emma called, “Dinner.”

  Shep glanced up to the porch, finding her leaning again the railing, arms folded. Obviously she’d been there a while. Her pretty eyes locked onto his. She was all warmth and sunshine, and she was infectious.

  When he drew closer, he noticed her wide eyes. “I can’t believe he let you touch him,” she squeaked. “First a carrot, and now he’s eating hay. Oh, my God, dare I say he’s actually being a real horse.”

  Shep winked. “What can I say? No one can refuse me.”

  “I’d usually say something about you being arrogant here, but I actually think that might be true.” She laughed, as did he, then she winked. “In all seriousness, I wasn’t expecting you to get through to him so fast. Hell, I thought it was good he came for a walk with us and ate a carrot, let alone you ever touching him.”

  “He needed a little push, is all,” Shep explained, moving up the porch steps until he stood in front of her. Compelled by her beauty, he slid his finger down her soft cheek then tucked her hair behind her ear. “He isn’t ‘the devil horse,’ as you once called him. He only needed to see that I wouldn’t hurt him. My interaction with Tadgh, and Tadgh’s calm nature, basically gave him that sense of trust he was missing.”

  “So, he’s fixed?” she asked, wide-eyed.

  Shep hesitated, choosing his words carefully. “Fixed isn’t necessarily the right word. He’s trusting again, and that’s a big step forward, but he’s only trusting me. That’s far from him trusting everyone.”

  Softness reached Emma’s eyes, telling Shep she probably felt a little like that herself. She glanced out at Bentley and sighed. “Maybe he shouldn’t trust everyone. Like you said before, people can be cruel.”

  “You’re right, they can be.” There was no denying that.

  She turned to him again, the sun warming the darker green in her eyes. “But not you?”

  “No, not me.”

  She crossed her arms, giving him a cute puzzled look. “Are you like this with everyone?”

  The soft strands of her hair caught his eye, and he slid his fingers over the ones hanging by her shoulder. “Like what, exactly?”

  “So . . . invested?”

  He gave a dry laugh, shaking his head. “Believe me, Emma, you are an exception to the rule.” He knew exactly what message that would send her. He also didn’t give a shit. Because Bentley wasn’t the only one who needed a push too.

  This woman had him caught up. He wanted more from her, and if she’d stop being so scared, she’d see they were already on their way to something amazing. It was about time Emma stopped avoiding that particular truth.

  Again she hesitated, watching him closely. Though this time everything about her became tender, trusting. “Why are you being so kind to me?”

  He removed his hands from his pockets and stepped closer, sliding his hand across her warm cheek. “For this right here,” he told her simply. She melted into his touch and smiled, and his chest lightened. “I like seeing you get warm. I like seeing you smile.”

  Her eyes searched his slowly, seemingly trying to piece her thoughts together, her voice quiet and small. “I feel like you’re giving more than I’m giving you.”

  “Don’t do that,” he said, cupping her face. “We don’t need to overthink this. I need an escape as much as you do, and that’s what we’re giving to each other.”

  Tears suddenly welled in her eyes, and her chin quivered. “I just don’t know how to thank you for staying with me after the accident . . . for what you’re doing for Bentley.” Her voice blistered. “For what you’re doing for me.”

  “You’re here with me. You’re present. That’s enough, Emma.” Not wanting to lay it on too thick or push too hard today, making her feel rushed into things he knew were happening between them, even if she might not be ready to accept them yet, he added, “Now I’m starving. What have you made us for dinner?”

  She swallowed deeply, obviously reining in her raw emotions. “Beef stew.”

  “Two favorites in one day.” He grinned. “I’m a lucky man.”

  She began to frown. “But I only made stew . . .”

  “I’m not talking about food, sweetheart.” He slid his hand against the small of her back, yanking her against him, and stated against her lips, “I’m talking about you.” Then he did what she needed him to do. He sealed his mouth across hers, stealing any other lingering worries from her mind.

  Chapter 10

  Minutes before seven o’clock, Emma entered Kinky Spurs, ready for her last shift of the week. Being only a part-time employee, she worked Thursday to Sunday night. She moved through the tables, heading toward the bar straight ahead, her cowboy boots scuffing against the wood floor. Her Kinky Spurs T-shirt felt suffocating as always, with her ripped jean shorts barely covering her panties.

  Behind the bar, Megan served a beer to a man sitting on a stool, a smile peeking out from behind his worn cowboy hat. Emma wasn’t surprised—Megan seemed to have that effect on men.

  When Emma caught Megan’s eye, her boss began to frown, folding her arms beneath the KINKY SPURS logo across her chest. “You are not supposed to be here.”

  Emma ducked under the side of the bar. “Honestly, I’m f
ine. There’ s no reason I shouldn’t be here.”

  Megan grabbed the man’s money off the bar, then gave Emma a slow examining look from her head to her toes, especially lingering on the bruises on her legs. “You don’t look fine.”

  “They’re just bruises.” Emma poked at one and smiled, totally faking that the poke didn’t nearly make her flinch. “See? Totally fine. It looks worse than it is. Trust me.”

  “All right, if you say so,” Megan finally said, turning toward the cash register. “Take breaks if you need them. I brought in Cassie as well tonight, so we’ve got the extra help if we need it.”

  Emma smiled. “Thanks.” In the weeks that Emma had worked for her, Megan had proven to be the best boss she’d ever had. Sure, her demands were high—be quick on your feet, serve more than one customer at once, don’t leave customers waiting—but when it came down to it, Megan cared not only for her business, but for the people who worked for her.

  When Emma placed her purse down below the counter, Megan dropped the man’s change onto the bar.

  “Keep the change, doll,” he practically purred.

  “I don’t need your tips,” Megan stated firmly. “And if you call me doll again, your nuts will be sent into your throat.”

  The man snorted a laugh. “Aw, Freckles, just because you want to sleep with me doesn’t mean you can’t take my money.”

  Emma’s mouth nearly dropped to the floor. Oh, my God. She’d never heard anyone talk to Megan like this. She suspected that in about two seconds, the bouncer would be called, and the man would be kicked out. She pretended to be fiddling with her purse, staying down and out of sight.

  Instead of calling Dean, the bouncer, Megan snorted. “In your dreams, Blackshaw.”

  Emma snapped her mouth closed with an audible click then rose, giving the man at the end of the bar a deeper look. His eyes were the same color as Shep’s, even the brown shade of his hair poking out of the back of his cowboy hat was the same. Good grief, he was hot, if you liked a man full of sexy arrogance, that was. Emma preferred Shep’s brand of sexiness—cool, calm, and in control. This guy looked more like a man who’d take you to his bed, rock your world only to prove that he could, then leave you and never look back. “Excuse me,” she said, moving closer. “Are you one of Shep’s brothers?”

  Megan rolled her eyes. “Oh, have you not met the youngest, most irritating Blackshaw of them all?”

  Emma smiled at the man. “You’re Nash, I take it?” She offered her hand. “I’m Emma.”

  “Ah, so this is Emma.” Nash took her hand and pressed a kiss to the top.

  Megan stole Emma’s hand away. “Ignore him.” To Nash, she stated, “First, Shep would break your hand if he saw you kiss her like that. Second”—she turned to Emma—“Nash here has this condition where he has no filter. It’s a real problem. He’s a toddler.”

  Nash barked a laugh, his lips pressing against the rim of his beer bottle. “What I have is a truth filter. I can’t help that everyone around here never says it like it is and pussyfoots around the truth.”

  Megan scoffed. “What you have is a dipshit filter, and no one cares what you think.” She moved to the end of the bar while Nash continued to laugh, staring after her.

  Emma stood there looking between them, trying to catch up. How had she not heard about this before? Even she could feel the tension between them was thick and heavy and nearly ready to explode. In fact, she actually thought Nash was onto something about Megan wanting him in her bed. Needing answers, she followed Megan into the back room, finding her grabbing a case of beer. “Okay, totally none of my business,” Emma said quietly, “but I had no idea you two were a thing.”

  “We aren’t a thing.” Megan strode by her, carrying the beer. “I hate him. He hates me. End of story.” She left the back room.

  Emma followed in an instant, finding Nash’s gaze zeroed in on Megan’s every move. Whatever was between them was hot and heavy . . . and oh, so complicated. That much was clear, and Emma imagined that everyone probably knew it too. She sighed, keeping the thought to herself. She understood complicated. Sometimes life wasn’t so neat and tidy.

  Emma was helping Megan stock the cooler with beer when Nash asked, “How’s that horse of yours doing?”

  She smiled, moving closer. “He’s coming around, actually. Shep’s been amazing with him.”

  “I’m sure that my brother has been quite determined to see this through.” Nash’s mouth twitched. “He’s trying to impress you.”

  Emma quickly glanced away, her cheeks warming.

  Nash added, “Ah, don’t shy away, I’m just razzing you.” When she lifted her gaze to him again, he gave a firm nod, his eyes soft, lacking the playfulness she’d seen before. “You and Shep . . . that’s a good thing.”

  Megan snorted, giving him a flippant look. “And now that King Nash has given his approval, you can live happily ever after.”

  Emma burst out laughing, unable to help it. She actually didn’t mind Nash’s comment, though. He seemed sincere. Her gaze lifted over his shoulder, and Emma noticed Shep entering the bar right then, the other Blackshaw brother on his heels, or so Emma assumed. They all kinda looked the same, except the guy behind Shep—Chase, she figured now—was a tiny bit shorter than Shep, and he had warm brown eyes, while Shep’s and Nash’s eyes were blue.

  Shep’s gaze was fixed on her while he strode into the bar, looking like he owned the place, the side of his mouth arching in that sexy, confident way of his. She swallowed deeply, the air feeling harder to inhale, her belly fluttering.

  When he finally slid onto the stool next to Nash, he grinned. “I see you’ve met my brother. I hope he behaved himself.”

  “Of course I did,” Nash quipped.

  Shep gave Emma a measured look.

  Emma laughed and nodded. “He did.” She turned to Shep’s left. Where Nash appeared full of sexy arrogance, and Shep was stuffed to the brim with seductiveness and control, Chase seemed sweet. It was his warm brown eyes; they exuded tenderness. “I take it you’re Chase.” She offered her hand.

  “That’s right.” Chase returned the handshake with a smile. “Emma, I’m assuming?”

  “You got it.” She suddenly realized what Harper had gone on about regarding these men. With all three of the Blackshaw brothers together, they were quite the presence, definitely some serious eye candy. No woman would stand a chance against any one of them.

  “How are you feeling?” Shep asked, bringing her attention back to him.

  “Perfectly fine, thanks.” She wasn’t blind to the way he examined her face, looking for any signs of exhaustion. She thought that was sweet, as was the fact that it was pretty clear he’d asked his brothers to come here tonight to casually meet her. “Can I grab you guys some beers?”

  “Please,” Shep said, and Chase nodded.

  She turned to fetch their beers. The second she bent to grab them from the case full of ice, she sensed a shift around her. Her breath suddenly hitched, belly tightened. A pull had her glancing over her shoulder, and she found Shep’s gaze glued on her ass, basically stripping her clothes right off her body.

  Warmth spread out between her thighs. She quickly looked away, reminding herself she was working. That stare was a powerful thing, almost scarily powerful. Yet she realized it was impossibly hard to be worried over this thing between them anymore; basically she was turned on all the time. And that, in itself, was something she couldn’t fight.

  With beers in hand, she returned, delivering Shep’s first then handing one to Chase. “Listen, I feel a bit rude not being able to chat—”

  “You need to work,” Shep interjected.

  “Yes, she does,” Megan said, sidling up beside Emma. “Stop distracting her, boys.”

  “That might be a challenge,” Shep stated with a grin. Emma flushed, locked in that sexy smile of his, while he added, “Alas, I’ll agree if you do me a favor tonight, Megan.”

  “What’s that?” She slid the cloth over the
bar, wiping up a spill in front of Nash.

  “For tonight’s Rope ’Em Up, sign me and Emma up.”

  Megan nodded, moving along to serve a customer waiting at the end of the bar.

  Emma outright gawked, not caring that his brothers were sitting next to him. “You cannot be serious. Don’t you think I’ve had enough of that stage already?”

  Shep grinned, the most seductive smile she’d seen from him yet. “No, darlin’, I don’t.”

  Oy vey.

  * * *

  By the time Shep had finished his second beer, the bar was in full swing. The crowd was a mix, from twenty-somethings who attended the university to people in their early thirties. Shep sat upon the same stool, with Nash and Chase next to him. He told Megan he wouldn’t distract Emma, but she was a distraction to him. He couldn’t stop staring at her, while she handled the crowd at the bar like a pro. She looked like she had that first night he’d seen her, being sexy and sweet, and everything he liked in a woman. Yet now he saw something he hadn’t seen before. A slight spark brightened her expression. There was a definite bounce to her step, and he thought he knew what that little excitement was all about. It appeared she liked being the center of his attention. She’d bend over more than necessary, always aiming her ass in his direction for a good look. When she’d walk, she’d wiggle her hips more than he’d seen before, all to tease him, of that he was certain.

  Chase’s sudden laughter snapped him away from the reason for his raging hard-on. “You better stop gawking at her like that,” his brother said. “She’s going to think you’re in love with her.”

  Nash snorted and added, “Blackshaw men don’t fall in love with a woman only days after meeting them.”

  Shep chuckled against the rim of his beer bottle, took the swig he’d been waiting for, and glanced Nash’s way. “Now if I were you, I would be concerned about my reputation, but I’m not you, am I?” Shep didn’t care one bit how he was perceived. He wanted to gawk at Emma, and he didn’t give a shit what anyone thought about it.