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

by Rhonda Lee Carver

  “Sorry.” He watched the pretty red-head move through the crowd. What the hell was Presley doing here? And with some tall, lanky cowboy wannabe? Why did Urban’s stomach drop?

  Rena chuckled. “I forgive you, honey.” She slipped an arm around his waist to snuggle against his chest.

  He still watched Presley. One corner of her mouth lowered as she caught him in a cold heated stare from across the room. She lifted her chin as the man she was with tucked an arm around her waist and drew her closer, nuzzling his nose in her hair.

  “You’re going to break the bottle, sugar.” Rena laughed and tapped a claw-like nail against the label.

  He didn’t think he’d feel it if he did.

  Presley whispered something in her date’s ear and he laughed. Urban’s gaze latched onto her ass in the tight-fitting jeans all the way down to her “fuck me” red heels that could second as weapons. Her long hair had been curled into bouncy coils and the warm, dim light above her head made the golden highlights in the lush mass come alive. He wondered what the silken locks would feel like brushing across his naked body.

  He didn’t bother removing his gaze off her as she started for the bar. Urban overheard her date ask her, “Is this a beer night or something stronger?”

  “I’ll take a beer,” she said, casting Urban another death-grip gaze.

  What the hell is her problem?

  While tall and lanky ordered their drinks, Presley stepped over, wearing a smile that Urban figured was much like press on nails. They looked as fake as hell. She first said, “Hello”, to Hugh and then turned her attention to Urban, giving Rena, who snorted, a long glance. “You’re still alive. And with a cast.”

  Urban laughed. “I’m sure you’re disappointed.”

  Her laughter was nervous, but at least she was no longer eyeing him like he was a pygmy goat and she was a hungry lioness, which didn’t sound too bad after he thought about it. “You okay?”

  “Hell, I’ve been hurt worse falling off a bike.” Not entirely true, but the last thing he was going to do was complain…to her.

  “I was watching. Damn, you must have really pissed that bull off. It was a good show though.”

  “Unfortunately, not enough to win the prize. Who’s the cowboy?” Urban used his bottle to point to her date.

  “You don’t know him.” There was an anxious lilt to her voice.

  “That’s why I asked who he is.”

  Presley blinked. “He’s Dr. Bart Kruiseman. He’s a vet over in Ottoman County.” She lifted a hand to tuck a curl behind her ear, leaving a trace of seductive perfume in the air. Urban breathed in heavy.

  A knot formed in both his throat and chest, double whammy. It angered him, so much that he didn’t think before he spoke. “Is he the marrying kind?” Oh fuck! Why’d he go and do that for?

  Ruby red colored her cheeks and her irises blossomed into dark targets. Yeah, the death glare was back. He deserved it. The words had slipped out. She cleared her throat. “I wouldn’t know. This is our first date.”

  “Marrying kind?” Hugh said with a scoff. “Are you looking, Pres?”

  “No.” She dared Urban to make a peep otherwise.

  He lifted an eyebrow, almost forgetting that Rena was snuggled up close until she shifted and brushed against his crotch. By her sweet smile she must have believed his expansion was due to her, but Urban knew without a doubt that the unfriendly lady across from him was the culprit. She had some control over him that he couldn’t quite understand. “Sweetheart, maybe you should move.”

  Rena blinked, her nose wrinkled and she nudged him in the ribs as she pushed away. “Good to see you, Dr. Dean. I hope you’re doing great.”

  “Fine, thank you, Rena.”

  There was a lingering awkwardness between the two ladies and Urban had no understanding of why, nor did he care. Rena strolled away, probably angry. “So, is that the new flavor of the month?” Presley drawled.

  “Ain’t none of your business,” he said in moody tone. He couldn’t allow her to get to him.

  “Oh, but it’s your business who I’m with?”

  Hugh was watching the duo closely, the area between his brows scrunching. “I see you two are still at it.”

  “No, we’re fine. Aren’t we, tiger? I mean, can I call you tiger? That’s what your cast reads.” She grinned and gave him a gentle tap on the part of his cast where Rena had written a book.

  He didn’t even look to see what it read. “Better than good. Happy hunting,” he said in a lowered voice.

  “Are you ready? Several tables have opened up,” Bart approached, handed her a bottle, then wrapped his arm around her tiny waist.

  For a first date, the bastard sure was touchy-feely.

  And Urban was getting a buzz which made him brave enough to watch her ass again as she walked away, shiny curls bouncing around her bare shoulders. He liked how her shirt was off the shoulders, revealing nice, smooth skin.

  “Looks like her date is happy.” Hugh laughed.

  “I’m hungry. How about you, bro?” Urban asked.

  Hugh shrugged. “I could eat I guess.”

  “Let’s go sit at that table.” He pointed to the one next to where Presley and the doc sat. He hurried off the stool, but Hugh caught him by the elbow.

  “I don’t think Presley—”

  “We were here first. I just want to grab some grub.”

  “Fine.” Hugh grabbed his bottle.

  Urban stomped to the table, greeting several patrons who attempted to try and speak to him, but he had his focus on Presley. Damn, he knew he should turn around and go back to the bar, but his boots kept on walking. Losing money and alcohol didn’t mix well and he had to be careful that he didn’t make a fool of himself, but right now, his ego was bruised. Mostly because he’d been dropped from a bull’s saddle, but also because the prissy Miss Presley treated him like a boil on her ass when all he could think about was dragging her into his arms and kissing her until she pleaded for him to fuck her.

  Reaching the table, he dropped down into the chair that faced her. She brought her chin up and her gaze came to him, but she smiled—not exactly friendly, but full of “how did I know you’d do this”, then she returned to listening at what her date was saying. Hugh sat down, grabbed two menus from the metal holder, and dropped one in front of Urban. “I’m in the mood for cheese curds. Or fried pickles.”

  “I’m in the mood for a steak. Big and juicy,” he muttered.

  The pretty waitress bounded up and stopped dead when she saw Urban’s face. “Hell, Urban! You’re all black and blue. Shit!” Her mouth twisted.

  He shrugged. “Goes with the job. I’ll heal.”

  “But that gorgeous face.” She gave her head a shake, the corners of her mouth dropping. “Did the bull drop kick you, then kick you in the face?”

  He looked down at his menu, completely ignoring the question. He wanted to forget about Tower. “I’ll take a steak, rare, sweet potato loaded with butter and brown sugar. And cowboy baked beans. Oh, and an order of fries. Throw in a bucket of beer.”

  “A bucket?” Hugh lifted a brow. “I have an early morning.”

  “Oh, so you don’t want a bucket yourself?” Barely listening as his brother ordered his meal, Urban’s eyes were on the next table, watching Presley lift the bottle to her sexy lips and drink. Her tender neck moved as she swallowed and he had an indecent image of her lips surrounding—

  “What the fuck is up with you?” Hugh thumped him on the shoulder, his brows scrunched.

  “Nothing. Can’t a man drink a little when he gets his ass kicked by a two-ton furball?”

  “Hell. I get it. I do. I’ve been on the end of a bottle for the very same reasons a time or two, but there seems to be more going on than a bull and a few bruises.”

  He pushed down his lust driven thoughts and brought his full attention to Hugh. “Just disappointed. That’s all.”

  “I know it’s hard to not win, especially when the pot is huge, but c
ome on, bro. Keep things in perspective. You can still retire.”

  “Not without a bit more padding. Once I’m out of the circuit there’s no going back.”

  The waitress brought the bucket of beer and a water for Hugh, and Urban felt a stare. Presley had her narrowed gaze on him. He needed to ignore her, but that wasn’t the reason why he’d come over here to sit closer. Turning his chin, out of his peripheral, he could see her lift her bottle and drink more. The cowboy she was with still chatted away. Urban couldn’t hear what he was saying though.

  “Decide to grab some grub?” It was Rena who was beside him again, planting her thin fingers on his shoulder. He looked up just in time to see her bat her lashes and smile, showing off even white teeth.

  “I thought I’d better have a good balance between food and alcohol. Wouldn’t want to do anything stupid.”

  “That’s good thinking, bro. We wouldn’t want to make fools of ourselves.” Hugh sighed.

  Hearing soft laughter from the table across from them, Urban looked over, seeing Presley leaning her head back laughing over something the doc said. Probably telling her how he’d stuck his hand up a cow’s ass that day to help deliver a calf.

  Urban rubbed his tight jaw. He was out of line and couldn’t help himself. Every cowboy on earth probably had his hand up a cow’s ass a time or two. Him included.

  “Mind if I join you boys?” Rena asked. “I was expecting someone but he blew me off. His loss.”

  “Sure,” Hugh pushed out the chair for her.

  Urban didn’t realize Rena was sitting until he felt warmth on his arm.

  The waitress brought their steaming plates and Rena ordered another sex on the beach and pushed home the meaning with a sweep of her tongue along her bottom lip. Hugh was entertained. Urban wasn’t. He cut into his steak and popped a bite into his mouth, chewing thoughtfully.

  “Damn, I love their curds.” Hugh was chowing down.

  “Mind if I grab one of those fries, cowboy? They look delicious.” Rena didn’t wait for an answer. She grabbed one of the golden potatoes, dipped it into the cup of steak sauce and nibbled delicately. “Mm. Good.”

  “Should you order your own?” Urban asked, not even looking at her.

  Clearing her throat, Rena frowned.

  Hugh mumbled a curse, then glared at Urban.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Oh, nothing.” Hugh grabbed a bottle of ketchup and squirted some onto his own fries. “Here, Rena. Have as many as you like.”

  “That’s okay, but thanks, Hugh. I think I’ll go make a request for the band. You two enjoy your meal.” She pushed back her chair and stood.

  Urban didn’t realize she was gone until a rolled-up napkin was thrown at his head. “What the hell was that for?”

  “I get that you’re not interested in Rena, but dude, she’s a nice enough woman. You could have been a little more kind. After all, sharing is caring.”

  After swallowing his mouth full, he shrugged. “I guess I was a bit of a jackass, but she knows me.”

  “Yeah, we do, and you’re more interested in staring at Presley and her date than finishing your meal. Is there something I should know?” Hugh asked through clenched teeth.

  The doc leaned in and whispered in Presley’s ear and her gaze landed on Urban. His chest tightened so tight that it vibrated. When she smiled, he was envious, wishing she was smiling at something he had said. “Nothing. Not one damn thing.”

  Hugh took a sip of his water. “I just saw Rena slip out the door.”

  “Don’t blame me. Blame the guy who ditched her.”

  “True, but I almost feel sorry for her.”

  “Then you ask her out, bro.”

  “Damn, you are being an ass.” Hugh stood, shook his head in irritation. “I’m going to go grab more water and I hope by the time I get back you’ll have pulled the wedgie out of your ass,” he growled.

  “Fine.”

  Urban dropped his fork, rubbing his brow.

  The preppy doc got up and made his way to the bar, leaving Presley alone. Something inside Urban warned him to stay seated and concentrate on his grub, but as if his body had a mind of its own, he stood and stepped over to Presley’s table and took the available seat.

  She looked at him with a brow raised. “Lost?”

  “Just curious. Is he a runner up?”

  Moistening her lips, she leaned back into her chair. “That was a conversation between Cheryl and me that you weren’t supposed to hear.”

  “I wasn’t eavesdropping. I happened along at the right time.”

  “Weren’t you supposed to be with your date when she left?”

  “Rena wasn’t my date.”

  “Did she understand that, tiger?”

  “That’s why she left. I guess I wanted to say sorry that I overheard your conversation at the stables. I don’t know why it’s running through my head as fast as a race horse.”

  She stared for a good two seconds. “Not sure why it is either.”

  “Why do you need to find a husband, besides the fact that you haven’t had sex in so long that your—”

  “Stop right there.” Hesitating, she finally leaned closer. “My dad is the traditional type. Before he signs over the clinic and the land, he wants to know I have a ring on my finger.”

  “Really? He can’t possibly mean that.”

  “Oh, I think he does. He’s given me six months.” Her shoulders slumped.

  “Damn. That’s a bitch.”

  “You ain’t kidding.” Her eyes glossed over.

  “Maybe you and I sh—”

  “Hey, I’m back.” Tall and lanky sat down. “Hello there. I’m Bart.”

  “Urban Jericho.” He shook the man’s hand, a little disappointed that his clasp wasn’t as weak as Urban thought it would be.

  His eyes widened. “The rodeo star?”

  “The one and only.” Urban noticed that one corner of Presley’s mouth descended.

  “Oh my gosh. I can’t believe it. Presley, this is the rodeo star who—”

  “Yes, I know.” She sighed. “We’re…” She seemed to chew on a morsel of information. “Old friends.”

  Urban could have laughed. He bet that word “friends” was hard to form on her tongue. “Yeah, we go way back. I can tell you some rowdy stories—”

  “But you won’t,” Presley said through gritted teeth. “We’re on a date, Urban. I’m sure Bart doesn’t want to hear silly stories about my childhood.” Her laugh was nervous.

  “Well, I beg to differ,” Bart chimed in. “I’d love to hear all about this pretty girl. After all, if I’m going to have the pleasure of seeing her again, I want to know what makes her tick.”

  Urban saw Presley’s face turn white. He almost felt sorry for her—almost. “I remember when she was the freckle-faced girl with bright red hair. We used to call her Red.”

  “Really? Red?” Bart laughed and smacked his thigh. “She still has the freckles and the hair. Maybe I should call you Red?” He leaned in and nudged Presley who wasn’t humored.

  “If you want stabbed in the thigh with my fork, then sure.” She smiled, but Urban knew she meant the threat.

  He wanted to correct Bart. Her hair wasn’t just red any longer, but a beautiful shade that brought out the color of her eyes. “We used to spend a lot of time over at the lake, didn’t we, Pres?” He could practically see her shake. “She had this teeny, tiny, polka-dotted bikini that had a bow on the bottom. That was when she actually wore a bathing suit.”

  “That’s history and let’s leave it there, shall we?” she said through pinched lips.

  Urban stood. “I’ll have to let her finish the story. I see my brother is back.” He dipped his hat, met Presley’s gaze and held it a good three seconds. If looks could kill, she would have shot him dead on the spot. For some reason, he felt justified, and yet hotter for her than ever before.

  Strolling back to his table, Hugh shook his head. “Couldn’t help yourself, could you?”r />
  “Don’t worry. I was gentle.” He cast a glance back to the table where the doc was ragging Presley to explain the story. She was still glaring at Urban. He pulled out his wallet and dropped several bills on the table. “You ready? I think I’ve had my fill for the day.”

  He smelled Presley’s scent.

  “Urban?”

  He looked up, finding her standing by him. “I almost forgot. Can I sign your cast?”

  “Sure. More the merrier.”

  She waved over the waitress. “May I borrow your pen just for a sec?” Pen in hand, she bent close, within inches of him, as she jotted something down on the cast. A satisfied grin crossed her beautiful lips. He couldn’t stop staring, even when she stood and stepped back. “See you around, Hugh. Good luck in the race. And you, Urban,” she snarled.

  Once she was gone, he read what she wrote aloud. “Grow up. And by the way, your pants are unzipped.”

  “Damn.” He zipped his jeans. He heard soft laughter and looked to her table. She was happy with herself.

  Urban started past Presley, but had a better idea. “Thank you for noticing, Pres. If you want to show the doc here a good time, why don’t you take him to the lake and skinny dip, just like you used to do.” He tipped his hat and grinned, moving on.

  Once they were in the lobby. Hugh picked something up from the floor. “You dropped this from your back pocket.”

  It took Urban a minute to figure out where the crumbled paper came from and what it was doing in his back pocket, then he remembered he’d put it there at the rodeo. He opened the paper and skimmed over the details.

  “Married rodeo star wanted for a documentary. How does he balance family and riding bulls? Fifty grand awarded. Apply today.”

  Fuck! He wasn’t married. He could certainly use fifty grand. Starting to crumble up the paper, he suddenly had a thought. Looking across the room, Presley now had her head leaned in discussing something with the doc. With a smile, Urban refolded the paper and shoved it back into his pocket, feeling better than ever.

  Maybe his luck was finally turning…

  *****

  The last thing Presley wanted was to allow Urban under her skin.

  Unfortunately, he always managed to push the right buttons to have her steaming. She knew now she should have asked Bart to meet her somewhere else, far away from Colton. What had she been thinking? She thought they could have a nice dinner, but she was wrong. She noticed that Urban was wearing a victory grin. That son-of-a-gun! He’d spurred her on purpose. But why? Didn’t he have better things to do—like Rena who’d been doing everything but undress him.