The Devil Wears Spurs

by Soraya Lane

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  Table of Contents

  About the Author

  Copyright Page

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  For Holly & Laura. Without you both, this series wouldn’t even exist!

  Acknowledgments

  The most terrifying thing about being an author is knowing that once you finish a book, you have to turn around and do it all over again! I often give myself only a few days to bask in the enjoyment of finishing one book before I start another, so it can be very daunting to have to brainstorm something entirely new again so soon. That was one of the reasons this series was so enjoyable to write, because I was able to complete all three books back-to-back, and stay in the same “world” for the better part of a year.

  Being incredibly busy writing so many books, in addition to being a busy stay-at-home mom to two young boys, means that surrounding myself with supportive people is hugely important.

  My amazing mother is an equally amazing grandma to my boys, and helps me so much on a daily basis. Without her I’d be unable to put the time and effort into my career, and I’m forever thankful for her “granny nanny” duties!

  Thank you to Hamish, my husband and biggest supporter. Talk about being a fantastic cheerleader, encouraging me and always believing in whatever goals I set my mind to.

  I’m also incredibly lucky to have a core group of author friends, and I’d be so lost without them. Natalie Anderson, Nicola Marsh, and Yvonne Lindsay are not only accomplished authors, they are also amazing friends and provide daily encouragement.

  There is also my talented literary agent, the fabulous Laura Bradford. Signing with you was one of my best career decisions, and I love that you always have my back.

  And finally to Holly Ingraham, editor extraordinaire. You had a vision for this series, and somehow I managed to create what you were looking for. Thank you for the opportunity to work with St. Martin’s Press; it has been not only a privilege, but a very enjoyable experience. Working with a new editor is always nerve wracking, but I have thoroughly enjoyed working on these books with you!

  Chapter 1

  Chloe knew she was being a hypocrite. Only months ago she was on campus campaigning for animal rights, and now here she was sitting front and center at a rodeo, and loving every minute of it.

  She raised her beer and took a sip, laughing when her friend grabbed the hat off the guy next to them and dropped it onto her head.

  “Yee-haw!” Shelly giggled.

  Chloe smiled an apology and gave the hat back, wishing she was drunk. Shelly had always been able to drink her under the table back when they were in college together, and today Chloe wasn’t even close to keeping up with her. The last thing she wanted was to face work with a thumping headache, so she’d been nursing the same beer for over an hour.

  “Who is that?”

  She looked up and followed Shelly’s gaze. They were standing near where the riders were waiting, and had ogled plenty of the Wrangler-clad cowboys, but this guy was … Chloe gulped as he glanced over at them. His bright blue eyes locked on hers through the crowd. It was impossible to look away. He raised his hat, slowly, still watching her, a lazy grin kicking the corners of his mouth into a smile that almost turned her to liquid.

  “Is he looking straight at you?” Shelly hissed.

  “Um,” Chloe murmured, tongue darting out to moisten lips that had turned as dry as the dirt beneath her boots. “Yeah. I think he is.” She knew he was, because he still hadn’t looked away.

  The cowboy touched the corner of his hat, with the barest hint of a nod, before he looped his thumbs into his jeans and strode off. Chloe blew out a breath and laughed when Shelly fanned at her face with her hand.

  “Is it hot out here or is it just me?”

  “Hot,” Chloe replied, sipping her now lukewarm beer for something to do. “So freaking hot.”

  It may as well have been a hundred degrees—her whole body felt clammy, and her skin flushed from the burning intensity of the cowboy, who was now climbing over the metal railings, brushing some powder onto his hands, and settling onto the back of a huge black bull. She watched as he joked with the guys gathered around, settling himself in the seconds before they opened the gate.

  “And getting even hotter with that bucking bull between his thighs,” Shelly said with a grin. “Hot, hot, hot.”

  “Our next rider is competing to retain the title belt.” The speakers crackled, the voice fading, then audible again. “Give a round of applause for our current title holder, Ryder King!”

  King. She knew that name. Then the penny dropped. She might not have grown up in Texas, but she’d heard about the King family, had met a couple of the brothers in the bar she worked at. But she definitely hadn’t met this brother. The other guys had been dark haired and handsome, but this one … damn. His blond hair had been messy before he’d put his hat on, his eyes as bright as the ocean on a summer’s day. The way his jeans hung low on his hips, and his muscled forearms were on show with his shirt rolled to his elbows, was enough to make her heart beat overtime.

  “We need more beer.”

  Chloe ignored Shelly. She couldn’t take her eyes off the bull rider, and besides, she wasn’t interested in drinking anything other than soda for the rest of the afternoon. The massive beast was charging around the ring, head down, and Ryder was holding on with one hand, the other flung out in the air behind him as he rode out each buck, body jerking one way, then the other. Until one big buck in the middle of a 180-degree spin sent him flying through the air.

  Shit!

  Chloe’s heart was pounding as she pushed through the crowd, grabbing hold of the fence and trying to see where he’d fallen, if he was okay. She searched the ring frantically, and cringed as the furious bull careened in her direction then charged off toward the center of the ring again. That’s when she saw Ryder, stumbling backward fast, and launching himself up on the railings, a grin on his face so wide it made her furious.

  “Damn idiot could have killed himself,” she muttered.

  “What was that, darlin’?”

  She glanced at a man standing beside her, only noticing him now that she wasn’t in tunnel-vision mode over Ryder. She must have practically knocked the man over to get past.

  “Nothing, sorry.”

  Chloe dragged her eyes from the ring and headed back to wait for Shelly. Stupid cowboy. She didn’t know if it was the frenzied crowd or the burning hot sun, but something was making her crazy enough to even look at the cowboy like he was someone she could be interested in.

  “You looked thirsty,” Shelly said, laughing as she passed Chloe a cold beer and banged the bottles together.

  Chloe jumped back but still managed to get sprayed with beer foam. Shelly was starting to get so drunk she wouldn’t even notice if Chloe nursed the beer without drinking it.

  “Damn.” She wiped at her jeans before giving up. They’d dry and it wasn’t like it mattered—they were almost ready to leave. Which meant it was almost time for her shift at Joe’s.

  “You know that guy
we were watching? Absolute idiot,” she muttered to Shelly. “I mean, he jumped on that crazy big beast, fell off, and just about got his head stomped in, then the next minute he was laughing and everyone’s clapping like he’s a—”

  “Chlo,” Shelly said, interrupting her. “Chloe.” Louder this time.

  “What?” she mumbled, looking up. Shelly’s eyes looked like they were about to pop out of her head. She didn’t answer, just cleared her throat too loudly and made a weird gesture with her head. What the hell was going on?

  “Shel—”

  Chloe’s voice died in her throat when a too-husky voice sounded out behind her.

  “Maybe you should try it sometime.”

  A full-body shiver worked its way from her shoulders down her back and to the very tips of her toes, the deep voice lazy and sexy all rolled into one. She glanced at Shelly before turning slowly, knowing there was only one man who could have a voice so deliciously sinful. Because there was only one man she’d seen here today who looked that sinful.

  “Try what?” she managed, fighting to keep her composure as she came face-to-face with the handsome cowboy.

  “Riding a crazy big beast,” he said, raising one eyebrow as a slow smile spread across his lips. “Your terminology, not mine.”

  Chloe’s face flushed, the heat burning like fire across her skin. She wasn’t embarrassed, but she sure as hell was attracted to the man standing less than two feet away from her. Everything—from his full lips to his stubbled jaw to the long dark lashes framing bright blue eyes—made her think about having his mouth and his hands all over her.

  “Shouldn’t you be icing your injuries?” It was the best she could come up with, her brain suddenly going into lockdown.

  “After that little tumble?” His grin was matched with a wink that had her heart racing way too fast to be healthy.

  She swallowed, hard, trying to think of something witty to say. She’d grown up surrounded by brash men and she wasn’t going to be the pathetic girl going all goofy over any guy, even if this one was a super hot cowboy.

  “If you think flying through the air and having a bull almost crush you is a little tumble, then you’re crazier than you look.” She glanced at Shelly, her confidence slowly seeping back as she saw her friend’s grin. “I stand by my comment.”

  “Crazy, huh?” He chuckled, folding his arms across his big chest, icy blue eyes never leaving hers.

  She shrugged, trying to act uninterested. And she should be uninterested. The purpose of her being in Dallas was to work and save money. No complications and no men. And definitely no sexy-as-hell cowboys. If there was ever a time to stick to her good-girl mantra, it was now.

  “So I was thinking we could go get a drink tonight.”

  The way he asked, all chilled out and self-assured, told her that he wasn’t used to women turning him down. She got it—he was gorgeous to look at and she knew his family was insanely wealthy—but that didn’t mean she was going to melt into a puddle at his feet.

  “I’m busy, sorry,” she said, folding her own arms across her chest as he pushed his hands into his pockets, a surprised look on his face.

  “Tomorrow, then?”

  Chloe bit down on her lower lip, trying not to laugh. She wasn’t usually so standoffish, but there was something about the sexy cowboy that was pushing all her buttons. If he hadn’t been so arrogant she’d have said yes, but there was something satisfying about turning him down. Even if she did want to go out with him.

  “Sorry, busy again. But maybe I’ll see you around.”

  A look passed over his face, a frown hovering before kicking back up into a grin, as if he’d decided she was playing a game instead of actually turning him down. Smart boy. Even if she did want to think she was in control, the desire thumping through her body was telling a different story. From the way he was watching her, she could tell he liked that she was screwing with him. Maybe he liked the fact that someone actually had the balls to say no to him.

  “How about you give me your number and we can talk about this in private some time?”

  She laughed, refusing to make eye contact with Shelly. Her friend would be in hysterics by now, and she didn’t want to cave in. Flirting like this was fun, even if she was the one breaking out in a sweat from their bantering.

  “I don’t have a pen.”

  He bent in, too close, his lips brushing her ear. She’d thought about that mouth of his from the moment he’d smiled at her from across the way, and she was so close to giving in and just saying yes to going out with him. Or turning her head a few inches so that his full mouth brushed her lips instead of her ear.

  “Give me your digits. I won’t forget them.”

  Chloe swallowed and raised a hand between them, placing it on Ryder’s chest and pushing him back. Her hand hovered, her fingertips gripping his shirt briefly before letting go. Guys like Ryder were used to yes, and she wanted to break the mold. Sure, she might say yes to him eventually, but she was going to let him sweat it out a bit first.

  Just as she was about to tell him no again, Shelly called out Chloe’s number before bursting into laughter. Chloe turned, furious with her drunken friend. She’d pay for this big-time.

  “I’ll call you,” he said, grinning as he took a few steps backward.

  “Fine. Play your cards right and I might say yes next time,” she replied, unable to stop herself from smiling at him, slipping her hands into her pockets and trying hard not to cringe at the cliché.

  Ryder laughed and turned, and she found it impossible not to check out his butt. His jeans, faded and worn, hugged his frame, and she only dragged her eyes away when Shelly’s fingers dug into her arm. Then she remembered that she had to kill her friend.

  “Are you insane?”

  Chloe glared at her. “Me insane? You’re the one who gave him my number.”

  Shelly shook her head. “Uh-uh, I’m not the bad guy here. You just turned down the hottest man you’ve probably ever met, and I did you a favor.”

  Chloe turned to look at him one more time, then shrugged, deciding it was stupid to make a big deal out of it when Shelly had had so much to drink. She could just say no to him when he called, and she’d find a way to punish her friend another time.

  “You need to sober up before work.”

  Shelly groaned. “Can’t we just call in sick?”

  Chloe shook her head and linked their arms. “Not all of us have parents footing the bill for our law school tuition,” she said. “So let’s go eat some greasy fries and you can tell me what an idiot I was for trying to act like I wasn’t interested in the hottest cowboy in Texas.”

  “In Texas?” Shelly giggled. “Hell, he was the hottest goddamn cowboy in the country.”

  Chloe groaned again. Next time she wouldn’t try so hard to be coy. Next time? If there was a next time she’d just say hell yes if he asked her out. Her phone buzzed and she slipped her hand into her back pocket to pull it out. She stared at the screen, chewing the inside of her mouth and trying not to laugh.

  Shelly nudged her and tried to peer over her shoulder. “It’s him, isn’t it?”

  “I could kill you,” she muttered.

  “Or you could just say yes.”

  * * *

  Ryder grinned as he stared at the screen of his iPhone. He didn’t even know her name, but he’d never had a woman turn him down before and it was hot. And the way she’d been looking at him? He could tell when a woman was playing hard to get, or at least he hoped he could. It had been a long time since he’d had to chase and he liked it.

  “You’ve got that look about you.”

  He pushed his phone into his jeans pocket and looked up at his brother. Nate didn’t look impressed, his dark brows pulled together as he stared at Ryder.

  “What look?” Ryder gave his best innocent face, but there was no fooling his big brother.

  “Is it a girl or a game?”

  Ryder laughed. He could get away with lying to anyone, except
his brothers. “Both.”

  Nate as good as growled, the rumble in his throat signaling he was about to grab Ryder and try to march him home.

  “A girl,” Ryder clarified, walking slowly alongside Nate toward the beer stand. “Wanna get a drink? Then you can laugh when I tell you that a hot-as-hell filly just had the nerve to turn me down.”

  Nate grinned. “And I bet you’re real hard for her now, huh?”

  Ryder smiled wickedly. “Fuck yeah.”

  Nate stopped walking and dropped a hand to Ryder’s shoulder, forcing him to stop. “Then how about you tell me all about her while the doctor checks you over.” His face looked like a thundercloud about to wreak havoc on an unsuspecting city.

  “I’m fine,” Ryder muttered. “Just let it go.”

  Nate was still staring at him, jaw like stone. Ryder shrugged, not giving a damn what his brother thought. He kept walking. What he wanted to do was drink, watch some rodeo, collect his title belt, and figure out how to get this mystery woman to give him the time of day. Dealing with his overprotective brother telling him for the umpteenth time that he needed a new vocation could wait.

  “Don’t walk away from me, Ryder,” Nate demanded.

  “Shut the hell up and come get a drink with me,” Ryder called back.

  “You won’t be saying that when you’re brain damaged from all the falls.”

  Ryder stopped walking, bunched his fists, and spun around. “I’ll give up rodeo when they take me away in a casket. So when I tell you to shut the hell up, I mean it.”

  They faced off, staring at each other, neither ready to give in. Ryder was sick of both his brothers getting on his back about retiring—the more they told him to give it up, the more determined he became. Nate was getting prepped to take over the family business, managing a nationwide property portfolio that rivaled Trump’s, and Chase was running the ranches, which left Ryder with fuck all if he didn’t stick to doing what he was good at. It wasn’t that his grandfather hadn’t wanted him involved, but he just didn’t fit the same molds his brothers did.