* * *
“IF I SEE ANOTHER female, I’m going to slit my wrists,” Livi said the next day as she collapsed in the chair next to Sabrina. It was Sunday—over twenty-four hours since she’d met Billy Chisholm on Friday night—and the fair was in full swing.
She stared at the crowds milling about the rodeo arena where they’d set up their booth. While there were plenty of single males walking here and there, none of them were falling all over themselves to fill out a profile. No line around the corner like the nearby funnel cake stand. No whoops and hollers like the kissing booth across the way. “This obviously isn’t working. You man the table and I’ll go see if I can stir up some business.” She stood and grabbed a stack of flyers.
“Where are you going?”
“The animal pens. There are a ton of hands on duty over there.”
“They’re all working. I doubt they’ll want to stop to fill out a questionnaire.”
“They will if I’m offering an incentive.” Livi pulled a white bakery box from beneath the table.
“What are those?”
“Seductive Strawberry cupcakes. A lady over at the diner makes them. The place was full of old geezers from the local VFW hall all going nuts over these. There was a line clear out the door. I figure if they can stir up the old guys, they might help out with the younger ones. I bought a full dozen. I’m thinking this will nab at least twelve men. Twenty-four if we cut them in half.”
“Five minutes and writer’s cramp for half of a Seductive Strawberry cupcake. Sounds like a fair trade.”
“Hey, I’m desperate. And desperate times call for desperate measures. See what you can do to get more men to stop here. Undo a few buttons.” She motioned to Sabrina’s blouse. “Or hike up the skirt.”
“Why don’t I just strip down to my underwear and do a table dance.”
“Great, but make sure to peel off the granny panties first.” Livi winked and disappeared.
She was not doing a table dance. Not yet, at least.
She pulled out more flyers, grabbed her clipboard and rounded the table. If she couldn’t lure the remaining one hundred and twenty-seven eligible cowboys still needed over to her table for information, she would take the information to them.
She spent the next hour walking the aisles and approaching every available man. And a few not-so-available ones who hadn’t been wearing their wedding rings. She’d been cussed at (Mrs. Tammy Johnson, wife of thirty-something Max Johnson, whose three daughters were showing goats in the arena next door) and kicked (Mrs. Denise Carter, wife of Harley Carter, a professional steer wrestler and competition eater signing autographs over in the barbecue tent), and all in less than ten minutes.
“I’m really sorry,” Sabrina called after the blonde as pain radiated up her calf. “He’s not wearing a wedding ring.”
“He doesn’t have to. The entire town knows he’s mine. Now you do, too.”
“It was an honest mistake,” she tried again, but the woman had already rounded the corner.
“Don’t let Denise bother you,” came a voice from behind. “She’s got somewhat of a temper.”
Sabrina turned to see a seventyish woman wearing a flower-print dress half covered with a pink apron, a large white box clutched in her hand. Her silvery-white hair was rolled into fat sausage curls and piled high on top of her head. A pair of pink bifocals sat low on her nose. The scent of rich chocolate and cheap hairspray filled the air. “Why, she once threw a package of fish sticks at old Mrs. Shivers for looking at Harley in the checkout line at the Piggly Wiggly. Almost gave her a concussion, too, since the frozen-foods cooler runs a good twenty degrees lower than it should on account of Mr. Ricks—he’s the owner—is too cheap to get the darn thing fixed. Name’s Sarah Jean Hunt,” the woman said, hefting the box to one arm and holding out her hand. “I own Sarah’s Sweets. It’s the one and only bakery in town.”
“Sabrina Collins. I’m with—”
“FindMeACowboy.com,” Sarah Jean finished for her. “I heard. The whole town’s heard. You guys are here to sign up cowboys for your new website. Talk about exciting stuff.”
“Your town hosts one of the biggest rodeos in Texas and you were just featured in a Famous Texas Outlaws episode. I can’t imagine a website start-up is big news.”
“To me it is.” The older woman drew a deep breath as if gathering her courage. “I’m here to sign up for your hook-up service.”
“I’m afraid we’ve reached our quota on females. We’re here in town to sign up more men.”
“I know. That’s why I brought these.” She held up the bakery box. “I sell everything from pies to cream puffs, but cupcakes are my specialty. Your friend bought a dozen of my Seductive Strawberry ’cause all those geezers from the VFW hall like them. But they just like ’em ’cause the strawberry puree I use works better than their Metamucil. If you want to rope in the younger ones, you need to try my Frisky Fudge Fantasy. I use a dark chocolate guaranteed to rev the libido and make any man hornier than a buck during mating season.”
“Dark chocolate does that?”
“My dark chocolate does that. Mix it up myself with a secret recipe handed down from my great-grandmother. She used to own a brothel at one time and it’s been said the menfolk would come from miles around to sample her goodies. ’Course, most folks think goodies refers to something sexual, but I know better ’cause I got all her recipes. Anyhow, if you want to sign up the cowboys around here, just give ’em one of these.” She handed over the bakery box. “And there’s more where those came from. All I ask in return is that you help me hook up with my very own cowboy.”
While Livi had seemed convinced about the cupcakes, Sabrina wasn’t nearly as gullible. Not after getting her leg kicked in. “Listen, Miss Sarah, I’d love to help, but—”
“I know I ain’t no spring chicken. That’s why I need your help. See, I’m not the luckiest when it comes to men. Spent nearly twenty years with a drunk rat bastard who up and died on me and left me with three kids to raise and not one penny of life insurance. Went into business for myself doing the only thing I knew how. I made it, too. The thing is, on account of running my own business and raising my girls, I ain’t never had much free time to get out and meet many men. And I ain’t really trusted my own instincts after picking such a dud the first go-round.” She motioned to Sabrina. “But you could find me a decent guy. That’s what you do, right? Your specialty?”
“Actually, I have a journalism major. Livi, my partner, is the marketing guru who actually designed the meet-and-greet system—”
“But you find the men, right?”
“Actually, we’re both here to find the men. Our friend Kat helps out, too, but she’s back in L.A. right now working on the website.”
“A triple threat.” Sarah Jean grinned. “I like it.” Hope glimmered in her eyes. “So you and your partner help me, and I’ll help you.”
No.
That was her first instinct.
She needed to fill her database, not search for one man for one particular woman.
Then again, she wasn’t filling anything at the moment. She eyed the whopping two profiles she’d managed to complete in almost as many hours, before shifting her gaze back to Sarah. That, and she’d already committed herself to Melba. What was one more?
The old woman wasn’t the ideal twenty-thirty-something they specialized in. Still, she was a strong, successful female. Determined and forthright. And she had the whole Mrs. Fields thing going on. Definitely a prize catch for any man over the age of seventy-five.
Provided the men over seventy-five were fishing.
There was only one way to find out.
She smiled at the older woman. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
* * *
HE WAS HAVING shitty luck.
Billy came t
o that realization after a sleepless Saturday night spent tossing and turning and staring at the ceiling, followed by an exhausting Sunday spent busting his ass at every turn.
“You suck,” Cole told him when he took time out from his broncs to watch Billy during a practice ride. “You’ll never make it through the semifinals like that.”
“That’s what I’ve been telling him,” Eli said. “What happened to yesterday? You were so good.”
“I had a late night.” A fruitless night spent digging for a bunch of money that may or may not exist. At least that was Billy’s take on the situation. To top it off, he’d spent the morning at his cabin trying to narrow down the flooring choices for the new bathroom. Hardwood or tile? The question ate at him when he should have had his mind on his ride. He needed to make his mind up so that the contractor could actually finish a job that should have taken three weeks. Instead, they were on month number two. And all because Billy couldn’t just pick one.
He could.
He would.
It’s just that he liked both.
Just as he’d liked both blondes that had hit on him last night at the local bar. They’d both been attractive, sexy, eager. He could have had either one of them.
He should have had one of them.
Then he wouldn’t be sucking so badly now.
That’s what he told himself, but deep in his gut, he knew it wasn’t true. He’d slept on Friday night after the sexual encounter with Sabrina not because he’d needed sex, but because he’d needed sex with her. Because he didn’t have to worry about the act coming back to bite him because he knew she was temporary.
She didn’t want more and neither did he and he was through denying it.
He had to do something. Even if it went against his good judgment.
“Where are you going?” Eli asked when Billy picked himself up off the ground, dusted off his jeans and started for the gate. “You’ve still got a few hours left of practice.”
“I’m tired of busting my ass. I need an insurance policy.” And then he headed for the fairgrounds next door and the woman with the Hello Kitty tattoo.
8
SABRINA FOUGHT TO control the trembling in her hands as she headed down the aisle of booths and rounded the corner into the food section. The scent of sweet cotton candy called to her, but she was too determined to get as far away from Billy Chisholm as was humanly possible.
Sure, she’d been attracted to him last night. But that had been deprivation on her part and sexy mystique on his. But she’d explored that mystery in great detail. She’d climbed to the top of the mountain. She’d jumped off the ledge, and so it should have been downhill from there.
It was always downhill from there.
She shouldn’t be trembling. Or shaking. Or wanting.
Especially the wanting.
Hunger yawned deep in the pit of her stomach and she found herself digging out a wad of change for an extra-large cotton candy. A few sugary-sweet wisps melted on her tongue and a rush of aaaah went through her.
There. Hunger sated. Now she could think straight and remember the all-important fact that Billy Chisholm was off-limits. Cowboy non grata. The more distance she kept between them the better.
“Hey, Sabrina, wait up.” His deep voice rumbled behind her and she half turned to see him headed down the food aisle, his jeans molding to his body in all the right places.
“Gotta run.” She picked up her pace and headed straight for the sign that said Ladies’ Room up ahead.
“I want to talk to you.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. Just write it down on the sheet and I’ll get everything entered into the computer. You’ll be hooking up with women in no time.”
He stopped, but his voice followed her. “Why are you so freaking scared to talk to me?”
The question rang in her ears, pricking her ego and the self-worth she’d fought so hard to cultivate all those years she’d watched her mother hide out in her room every time Sabrina’s father had done her wrong. There’d been no confrontation. No standing up for herself. She’d taken it and retreated, and then she’d forgiven him and the pattern had started all over again.
She stopped dead in her tracks and turned on him. “Maybe I’m not scared. Maybe I just have nothing to say to you.”
“But I have something to say to you.”
“Maybe I’m not interested in talking to you.” She tried to sound nonchalant, but it was next to impossible when she caught a whiff of his scent. The enticing aroma of leather and male and that unnameable something that made her think of soft cotton sheets and the moonlight peeking past the curtains of his motel room... Forget it. Forget him. Forget the night before last. Forget.
She tried for a steadying breath. “Look, I realize that you’re very popular around here, but unlike the other females in this town—” she motioned to the group of women near the funnel cake stand, their gazes hooked on Billy “—I’m not interested in being one of your groupies.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“You know what I think?”
“I couldn’t care less.”
“I think,” he said, stepping toward her, “you’re pushing me away on purpose because you really are scared.”
“There goes that word again.” She gathered her courage and focused every last ounce on holding her ground. Last night she hadn’t been prepared to resist him, hadn’t been armed against his sexy grin and his sparkling eyes and his honey-dripping drawl. But she was ready now.
Bring it on, cowboy. Bring. It. On.
“Walking away doesn’t mean I’m scared,” she said. “It means I’m just not interested.”
“Is that so?” He stared at her, his eyes bright and mesmerizing. His lips hinted at the faintest of grins and his gaze dropped, peeling away her clothes and caressing every bare inch.
Her skin tingled and her heart stalled.
Okay, maybe she wasn’t prepared for this.
For him.
She feigned a smile. “They call it a one-night stand for a reason. It means one night and it’s over.”
“I know what it means.”
“Then stop stalking me.”
“You don’t have to be afraid.”
“For the last time, I’m not afraid of you.”
“Not me, sugar.” He took another step, closing the distance between them. “Us.” The word trembled in the air between them.
“There is no us, or did you miss the whole one-night-stand explanation?”
“We’re good together.”
“We were good together. That night. I was horny. You were horny. I’m no longer horny. So that’s the end of it. And if you’re looking for more, that’s great. I’ll get your profile entered into my system and I’m sure you’ll find a zillion girls to hook up with. You might even find Miss Right—”
“I’m not looking for a wife. Or a relationship.” He hesitated, as if suddenly unsure. Something tugged at her heart. “I slept for the first time in a long time, I actually slept for a few solid hours. Since sleep is imperative to a good ride, I was hoping we could work something out.”
“Wait a second.” She tried to process his words. “You want to have sex with me again because I put you to sleep?” Not because she’d rocked his world or did that little twist with her hips that had sent him to the moon and back. “Sleep? Seriously?”
“I know it sounds crazy, but you don’t know how worked up I’ve been. I haven’t slept a solid three hours in weeks.” He ran a hand through his hair and she noted the weary light in his eyes. “I’ve got the semifinals this weekend. If I have a good showing, that’ll mean the finals.” His gaze locked with hers. “I had the best practice of my life yesterday.” He shrugged. “I figure the night before had something
to do with it, so I want a repeat.”
“So go forth and hook up again.” She motioned to the group of women still gathered near the stand. “Take your pick.”
He grabbed her arm and hauled her around the corner behind one of the shopping booths.
“What are you doing—” she started, the words drowning in the lump in her throat as he invaded her space.
“Taking your advice.” He swung her around to face him. “I pick you.”
She stared up at him, wishing he wasn’t so tall, so handsome, so...close. “I’m not ripe for picking.”
His eyes darkened and she realized she’d said the wrong thing...or the right thing, depending on the part of her doing the thinking. From the heat pooling between her legs, she’d bet money it wasn’t her head.
“I’d say you’re plenty ripe, sugar.” His thumb grazed the nipple pressing against her blouse, and heat speared her. “Ripe and juicy, and damn near ready to burst.”
“That’s not what I meant.” She fought for an extra breath to send a much-needed jolt of oxygen to her brain. “From what I’ve seen, there are dozens of women around here eager for a chance to help you out. Why don’t you go make your offer to someone who might actually be interested?”
“Because they’ve all got one thing on the brain—a wedding ring. This is a small town, sugar. The local girls aren’t thinking about having a good time. They’re more worried about what time you’re going to call them tomorrow. And whether or not you’re going to ask them to the church picnic. And when you’re going to order the ring and pick out the crystal.”
“There’s nothing wrong with a nice piece of Waterford.”
“Except that I’m more a Dixie cup kind of guy.”
“Meaning?”
“I don’t want to lead anybody on. I’m busy and I’m not the least bit interested in an actual relationship.”
“So make that clear up front.”
“Been there and done that.”
“And?”
“It lasted one week. The day before I was set to leave for a rodeo up in Montana, her daddy showed up with a shotgun and a preacher. He wanted me to make an honest woman of her.”
Texas Outlaws: Billy Page 6
