Urban's Rush (Saddles & Second Chances Book 4)

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  “I should have followed my instincts. I knew the prick would end up screwing another woman.”

  “You have three beautiful children. He did something right.”

  “Yes, that he did.”

  “Well, Dad thinks I’m going to grow old and never give him grandkids.”

  “You’re going to hate me, but I can see his point, honey.”

  Presley shot Cheryl a narrowed eye. “Don’t you start now.”

  “Come on, you know we’ve been friends for as long as I can remember so I have to tell you the truth, just as you did when I found out Ray was cheating. There comes a point when a woman, you, needs to show affection for something more than things with fur and no thumbs.”

  “But I can deal with animals. People, not so much.”

  “Okay…don’t throw a pan at my head, but I wonder if you’d be so against marriage if your mom hadn’t left when you were little? My kids went through an ugly stage when their father left, and he’s still in their lives. I read a lot of “how to” articles and many said that abandonment issues can lead to fear of relationships.”

  “Alright, Oprah. Thanks, but I don’t have abandonment issues. I just haven’t found someone interesting enough for a second date.” With her friend’s stare, she slumped her shoulders. “Okay, I admit that I don’t have a good image of marriage. It seems people think of it as a revolving door.”

  “My parents have been married for thirty-six years. Good marriages do exist.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind.” She shrugged.

  “Why don’t you let me fix you up with my cousin, Bart? He’s a doctor too, a vet, so you’d have something in common. He divorced a few years back, but they never had any kids. He’s about as ambitious about dating as you are.”

  Presley moaned. “You know how much I hate blind dating.”

  “Interesting considering you’ve never gone on one. Fine. You just might have to join that dating site, the one that’s advertised on TV…country boys looking for a girl who likes to get dirty.”

  Stomach turning, Presley wanted to go back home to bed.

  *****

  Urban Jericho parked his truck, turned off the engine, and slid out, grabbing the rope from the bed before strolling into the clinic. The place was empty. Usually Cheryl welcomed him with a friendly smile and an offer of candy, but she wasn’t sitting at the desk. “Hello?” No answer.

  He grabbed one of the mints from the bowl and popped it into his mouth.

  Hearing voices from the back, he peeked into Presley’s office. It was empty too. The voices were coming from the stables and he made his way through the private door, ignoring the sign that read, “Employees only”. Seeing Presley and Cheryl, he started to call out, but at the mention of marriage, he stopped in his tracks.

  “I’ll have to find a husband, Cheryl,” Presley said. “Someone who I can marry with no chance to fall in love with. Someone who’s in it for short term and then we’ll divorce.”

  “You mean like a business deal?” Cheryl asked.

  “Yes, exactly.”

  “That should be easy. I can’t even find a man who’s interested in taking off his clothes.” Cheryl snorted.

  “Maybe if you’d stop cutting his meat and instead blow on it a little, you’d get the response you want.” Presley bent her head back and laughed. He liked the melodic sound and the way several strands of hair had loosened from the messy bun and had fallen around her pale, freckled cheeks. Lowering his gaze, he could see the outline of her nipples through the wet T-shirt and how the material cupped her high, firm breasts. His cock twitched. The last thing he needed was a hard on for a woman he couldn’t stand. Not one bit. Maybe just a bit, proof in the way his zipper stretched.

  “I haven’t had sex in so long I’m beginning to think my parts are growing together.” Presley sighed. “I’m a sad case. At least I would get something from marriage. He has to like sex. Lots of sex.”

  “Then maybe you should look for a man with a big di—”

  Presley’s gasp brought his gaze up from her tits and onto her wide-eyed, red-cheeked expression. “Urban?” His name came out of her mouth with a large dose of venom. “What. Are. You. Doing?”

  He had to bite his bottom lip to keep from laughing, not humiliated one speck for getting caught listening and admiring. Presley Dean was on the prowl for a husband. Figures. He wasn’t the least bit surprised she wasn’t interested in marrying for love. The ice queen didn’t have a sliver of warmth in her body, although responsive, it was. He swallowed hard.

  There was no love lost between he and Presley, ever since he’d snipped off her braid on the school bus back when they still took naps and sucked lollipops. She’d sworn to never forgive him and, true to her promise, she busted his balls every chance she got. Since she was the Second Chances Ranch vet he had no choice but to work with her on occasion. He’d managed to overlook her good looks and toned body. Pretty easy because he liked his women warm-blooded.

  He didn’t have time for this and stepped into the stables, whistling, paying no attention to Presley’s death stare. Her face turned three shades whiter and her mouth was slightly parted. His gaze naturally fell to her firm, perky breasts for one last glance.

  “What are you doing here?” Groomed brows popped up over dazzling hazel eyes.

  “I’m here to pick up my horse,” he said, still smiling.

  “Hi there, Urban,” the cute receptionist said with a wide smile.

  “Hi, Cheryl.” He tipped his hat. “How’s that new mare doing?”

  “We love her. Thank you for letting me take her off your hands.”

  As if impatient with chatter, Presley cleared her throat obnoxiously. “I expected Weston.” Her color was returning, but the slanted expression told him she wasn’t pleased to see him. Good to see she still hated him.

  “He’s busy. And so am I. I’ll pull my trailer around, load Salamander up and be on my way.” The faster he got out of the stables the better. Nothing enticing about being in the black widow’s web.

  “I’ll leave you two to settle up business while I get back to my own.” Cheryl started for the door. “Good to see you again, Urban. Tell your brothers I said hello.”

  “Sure thing, darlin’.”

  Presley gave him an eye roll. She took off her gloves, tossing them onto a nearby workbench, and swiped her hands together. “Salamander’s leg has healed. She’ll be back to riding without any problems.” She unlocked the stall and patted the mare, scratching her behind the ear. Urban hated the fact that he felt a twitch behind his zipper again. What the hell? Why did he feel envious of the attention she gave his horse? Whatever it was, he needed to snap back to reality.

  “Great.” His voice was a bit husky and he shifted in his worn boots.

  She turned, nailing him with dazzling eyes that looked amazingly bright against the backdrop of her porcelain-white skin and red hair—not red, but a golden copper with strands of lighter strawberry that caught the sunlight flowing in through the row of windows along one wall. She always wore the thick mass in braids or a bun, and he was curious how long it was and how soft it would feel against his hands. The dark skinny jeans fit her curves nicely—curves that could make a man happy, but not him. Never. Ever.

  Their gazes met for a long, awkward second before her irises grew dark. Would her head spin too? He laughed at the thought which only made her face red again.

  “I thought you said you’re busy?” she snapped.

  “I am.” He rubbed his whiskered jaw.

  “Then how about you put that rope hooked on your shoulder to good use? I bet this pretty girl is ready to get out of here and back home. Aren’t you, girl?” There Presley was, snuggling the mare again, flashing a whopper of a smile that was a cattle prod to his groin.

  Before she had to reprimand him again and he allowed his dick to take control, he slid the rope and bit from his shoulder and just as Presley had suggested, he put it to use. “I’ll back the trailer up to th
e gate if you would unlock it for me.”

  “Sure thing,” she said in a thick Texas twang.

  Following her out of the stables, his gaze fell to the nice sway of her hips. A pendulum that hypnotized him. Stepping out into the fresh air, he inhaled sharply and forced his head back into the lead position. Whatever was happening to him he needed to wash any ideas out of his brain. Not only did he not like Presley, and she didn’t like him, but long ago she’d been Hugh’s girl, although he seemed to have moved on. One thing the brothers didn’t do was share women. It was a pact they’d made in their teen years when one pretty senior wanted to see which brother was better and had caused a rift between the Jerichos. And as far as Urban knew, that old agreement was still intact.

  Loading his horse, he closed the door to the trailer as Presley fiddled with the stubborn gate that didn’t want to close. “Here, let me help with that,” he offered.

  “No, thank you. I’ve got this.” Yet, she didn’t because now she was using her weight as leverage, which probably wasn’t more than one-ten soaking wet. Tendrils of hair were stuck to her cheeks and her teeth were gritted. She looked kind of cute.

  “Whatever.” He held up his hands in defeat. As far as he was concerned, she was cutting her nose off to spite her face, but if she had something to prove, fine. He’d allow her to fight with the rusted gate while he entertained himself with the show.

  He stood there. He should have turned tail and took off while the gettin’ was good, but he was mesmerized by her struggle with the door and how her breasts bounced. She wasn’t much taller than five three so he had a nice view from up higher.

  Suddenly, the gate gave way and she lost her balance, flailing backward with a groan. She landed against him and he easily wrapped an arm around her waist, steadying her.

  Sure, up until now he’d known she had curves, but there was an enormous difference between looking and feeling, and although he kept his fingers pressed in the slender dip of her waist, the flair of her hip within inches of his zipper couldn’t be ignored. And the fact that her firm, rounded bottom was firmly pressed against his buckle didn’t help his situation. His dick stretched to full capacity.

  Her breath came out in a hiss as she pushed away from him, pivoting on her boot to nail him again with an exasperated wide-eyed glare. Yeah, unfortunately she’d felt his body harden. Shit! He wasn’t a man who was usually at a loss for words, but standing there, zipper stretched and his mind whirling, he couldn’t manage anything but a shuffle of his boots, a tip his hat, and hurrying to the driver’s side of his truck. As he drove away, he watched her reflection in his side mirror. She was still staring, probably as flabbergasted as he was about the turn of events.

  Chapter Two

  Urban entered the bull pens and worked his bottom lip in thought. On his second bull ride of the event, his body was refusing to function appropriately. He probably needed x-rays to be sure, but the grinding feeling in his wrist warned him he could have broken it. Again. This would be the second time in a year. Thirty-four wasn’t old, but in the rodeo circuit, aging was more like dog years and he was considered seasoned for the sport. No surprise that fresher cowboys were riding. Not only were they younger, but they had more energy and had all the time in the world to dedicate to busting their balls on the backs of lethal weapons. Here lately, Urban was cherishing his gonads a bit more, careful how he abused them and what woman was touching them. His bed hadn’t been warmed in a year, although just that afternoon he was offered a blow job by a sexy buckle bunny. He’d walked away. He could very well be a loser, but he’d rather believe things were changing.

  The pain he felt now was nothing compared to some of the other injuries he’d suffered. After more than ten years of riding bulls he’d experienced enough dirt baths and slams that he could almost diagnose his own broken bones and sprains. Last year he’d suffered a concussion, the second to be exact, and he’d weighed the possibility of not returning, but he’d climbed back into the saddle, more resilient than ever—maybe.

  The injured wrist wouldn’t keep him from riding, but here lately, Urban was starting to think a lot about his future and what if he suffered a broken neck or back, or worse, was killed. He’d miss out on a lot of the things he wanted, things he should experience. Since his brothers, Weston, Roman, and Penn, had gotten married, it was only natural that Urban would feel a bit of envy, not that he was ready for marriage, and definitely not kids. He was just thinking…that was all. Retiring was for the best.

  He wanted a ride to remember, so although he had a bum wrist, he wanted the rowdiest bull because they always made for a better show, and points. Stranger Danger could be considered one of those particular bulls, known for bruising up many cowboys’ faces. There was also Tower, who wouldn’t be too bad to draw. The bull was as strong as a rocket, and almost as fast as one too. Very seldom did cowboys stay on his back for the buzzer, yet as far as a good show, it wouldn’t happen with Tower. He was a monster in the pen and usually took down a rider too soon. No matter. Urban needed to keep his eye on the prize and that meant staying seated for the eight-second ride. The payoff was huge and the only cowboy Urban had to worry about this evening was Chance Grimes. The two had been neck-and-neck for the last few years and knowing the other man could walk away with the prize today only motivated Urban more.

  Looking out over the row of chutes, Urban took in the sight as his adrenaline spiked, as it always did right before a ride. This could very well be his last ride, that is if he won today. The money would give him a nice nest egg and he’d feel comfortable bidding sayonara to his career in the circuit and dedicate himself to the ranch and the security company, SCS. The life of a rodeo star had become less important to him.

  The end was bittersweet.

  Once upon a time, he and his brothers were notorious bull riders. Not only were they the cowboys to beat, they also had the buckle bunnies, any one they wanted, but as he’d heard would happen, and learned by experience, all the stardom loses its brilliancy and all the beautiful babes that followed him around had lost his interest.

  What shocked him was the rise in his body for Presley Dean, a.k.a Ice Queen. Presley of all people. Pfft. It was almost laughable. She’d done nothing but rake him over the coals since they were kids. Sure, he’d snipped off her braid, but her hair had grown back and it was prettier than ever. And long. Shiny. Thick.

  His dick twitched.

  Hell, he’d been a hellion as a kid and that was too many years ago to still let it live in her gut. Although, thinking back, he couldn’t forget how she’d started sobbing as she held her chopped off braid in her tiny palm. He’d felt like a shithead, but before he could mutter an apology, her tears had dried up and she had drawn her fist back wide, then nailed him hard in the jaw. He could only respect a girl that could punch harder than most boys. He’d even puttered around with a crush on her for a while, thinking he’d ask her out, only Hugh swept in and started dating her in high school. Urban had no clue what broke the two up.

  Lately, he hadn’t been himself and that’s what he chalked his hard on up to. It could have been any woman that caused a rise. The lack of sex these days made him a dangerous, and loaded, gun. However, he had more worries right now than what lived below his buckle. He needed to win. He needed something more…

  This life was getting to him. The pungent scent of straw and dust were no longer an aphrodisiac to his nostrils. Standing in the waiting pen among the buffest, toughest cowboys in Texas didn’t make Urban as proud as it once did back when he had more energy in his step. Looking among one guy to the next, he could only see the young ones—the boys that still had a glint in their eye and fear written in their expressions. Fear was good—kept a man on his toes, but again, they saw themselves as superhuman. Their youthful bodies could take a lickin’ and keep on tickin’. They didn’t realize they were always one ride away from a fatal injury. Urban sure did. His body definitely did. It was time he figured out where his path would lead.

&nbs
p; Seeing a circle of cowboys chattering and laughing, curious, Urban sauntered up, parting a path through the men and was greeted with respectful nods and handshakes, except for Grimes who scowled. The champion rider was the man to beat and the smirk on his face told a story that he was worried, although he’d probably never admit it, not that Urban would either.

  Grimes gave Urban a short nod. “Good to see you.” Nothing in the man’s tone told Urban it was a sincere reception.

  The man just couldn’t get over the fact that his new wife, Amber, and Urban had been an item at one time.

  “Wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” Urban replied.

  “Maybe you should have saved yourself some embarrassment,” Grimes stated with a cocky grin. A few of the men chortled. This kind of egging wasn’t uncommon among the riders.

  Urban refused to allow the smugness of the other man to detour his focus, which he needed more than ever with a hurt wrist.

  “Hey, Jericho. You plan on signing up too?” One of the younger men asked.

  “For what?” The cowboy handed Urban a flyer, but before he could read it, another man piped up.

  “Some production company is looking for a rodeo star and his girl to do a documentary. Something about how relationships can work in the circuit. You know that pretty face would grab all the hearts of America. Not to mention, they’re offering a check. Big one.”

  “He can’t. They’re looking for a cowboy who’s hitched.” Grimes laughed. “They don’t count buckle bunnies.”

  Urban smirked, knowing Grimes was just jerking his chain. “I’m not sure how you talked a woman into marrying your ugly mug.” Although Grimes had a crooked nose from being broken so many times and a deep scar on his cheek, he still had the looks that women liked. Urban knew the man liked being in the spotlight and would sell his soul to be on the cover of anything and everything.