by Sonia Hartl
“I need you to stay out of my way tonight.” That came out harsher than I’d intended, but that moment in my apartment had thrown off my equilibrium. One sexy stare-down that might or might not have been an almost kiss didn’t change the fact that he was still my nemesis. “You’re here to observe, so grab a seat at the bar and watch me work my magic.”
“By magic, do you mean the double-Ds you’re currently rocking?” He gestured to my chest. “Because from where I’m standing, they’re the ones doing all the work tonight.”
I flipped him off, even though it was true. I’d already gotten the look from more than one cowboy hoping to ride his horse over that mountain. But I intended to focus on just one guy. I glanced back at Mark. Okay, two guys. But only one I needed to coax into my web.
A man in a neon-green fringed shirt offered me a beer, and I took it, leaving him behind without saying another word. I kept an eye on Mark as I drank. I also kept an eye on how much I drank, since I didn’t want a repeat performance of the night we found out about the men joining H4H. I had a hard enough time keeping my indecent thoughts in check when I was sober.
It wasn’t long before the pretty brunette with store-bought lashes who’d been nursing her drink two stools down eyed the seat between her and Mark. He gave her a casual smile. Once again, I was struck by how good-looking he could be when he wasn’t glaring at me. Any moment now they’d start chatting.
But he was supposed to be training this evening, and it was his job to pay attention to my performance. Sure, I’d snapped at him and told him to stay out of my way, but that wasn’t code for him to hit on other women. He wasn’t an official Heartbreaker yet. And even though I wasn’t supposed to be talking to him right now, it annoyed me no end that he was about to flirt with another woman after he’d been pressed against me in my apartment less than an hour ago. Not that anything had happened, or would ever happen, but still. It was insulting. He needed to focus on his training and get his jollies on his own time.
I took a long drink from my beer, set it on an empty table, and made it to the bar right as she was about to sit next to him. She had that wide-eyed, enamored look on her face. God, I sincerely hoped that wasn’t how I looked at him. I’d never get the upper hand.
I snagged the stool, cutting her off before she could make her move. A cute cowboy approached the woman and asked her to dance. She tried to bob her head around my massive pile of hair to catch Mark’s eye, but eventually gave up and joined the cowboy on the dance floor.
He gave me a slow clap. “Well played. You got me. Now go away and let me drink in peace while you ‘work your magic,’ as you say.”
He did not get to dismiss me that easily. I was technically his boss.
“I’m just ordering a drink.” I snagged the bartender’s attention, even though I’d discarded a nearly full one moments before. “But since you seem to have forgotten your place, you’re supposed to be watching me.” I took the beer out of his hand as he raised it to his lips. “How are you going to observe me when you’ve got your eyeballs glued to another woman’s chest?”
“The only chest in this place I can’t keep my eyes off is yours.” He poked me in the falsie and took his beer back. “And that’s only because it’s so big, it’s taking up my entire line of sight. It’s a real shame you weren’t on the Titanic. Those things could’ve kept the ship afloat.”
I rolled my eyes. “Just stay on task.”
“Sounds to me like you might be a little jealous.” He gave me a cocky smirk.
“You wish.” I pushed off from the bar and went to look for Jesse James.
I kept Mark in my sights as I skirted the perimeter of the dance floor. A cowboy with a flashy hat bejeweled in rhinestones asked me to boot, scoot, and boogie. He had a sweet smile and terrible taste in clothes, my usual brand of catnip, but I had to decline. One turn on the dance floor would expose the fact that I was not the country girl I wanted my target to think I was.
I was only halfheartedly looking for Jesse though, as I had become solely focused on what Mark was doing. So far, he’d kept to himself and his beer. He caught me staring and raised his drink with a look that could only be interpreted as I see you checking me out.
Two women drinking Coors approached him, and I was beginning to believe that line he’d fed me about how hard it was to meet people in the city was just that. A line. This was entirely too easy for him. Or maybe it was the Wranglers. They did an impressive job of highlighting his… attributes. I should’ve just let him wear khakis and a cable-knit sweater.
They giggled and touched his arm as they talked, and I couldn’t blame them. The guy oozed adorable charm. He had a way of looking at you when you talked, like he was really listening. It’s probably what had made him such a good teacher and anthropologist. He focused, studied, paid attention to the details.
I’d been slowly gravitating toward them, and when it looked like he was about to get two numbers for the price of one conversation, I tapped him on the arm.
“Jesus Christ. Really?” The exasperation in his tone had me biting back a smile.
“Oh my Lord, Ryan? Is that you?” I slung an arm over Mark’s shoulders as if we were old buddies. “It is you. I’m so happy to see you got out.” I glanced at the women he’d been talking to, who looked between us in confusion. “Can you believe they gave this cutie ten years for running a pit bull fighting ring?”
The woman on the left paled. I hadn’t missed the way she constantly touched the dog charm on her Pandora bracelet. “Excuse me?”
“Don’t believe a word this lunatic says.” Mark glared at me. “She’s a cat person.”
“Look at this face.” I gripped his chin in my hands hard enough to give him duck lips. “How could they send such a pretty man to prison for ten years? I mean, yeah, he gets hard watching dogs tear each other apart for sport, but it’s a tragedy for all womankind to lose him for that long. Don’t you think?”
“A real tragedy. Well, it was nice meeting you, but we have to go. Somewhere else.” The women beat a hasty retreat. They grabbed one of their friends off the dance floor, and the three of them painted a target on Mark with their eyes.
Mark clenched his beer. “You do understand that I’m not out here trolling for women. They approached me. And I’m not wearing a fancy disguise like you, so I’d really appreciate it if you’d cut me some slack. I’m still waiting to hear back from Northwestern, and the last thing I need is for my face to show up on someone’s Twitter feed as the dog fighter from the bar.”
“Sorry.” I didn’t know what was wrong with me. I was supposed to be working, not throwing a tantrum over Mark getting a few numbers. Of course the guy was going to get approached. He was hot and alone, and had a bulge for days. I glanced up to find him gazing at me in a way I found completely unsettling. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”
“You just said you were sorry to me.”
I crossed my arms. “No, I didn’t.”
“You did.” He grinned.
Ugh. Damn it. His smug expression would be the death of me. “Who cares? It was unconscious, so it doesn’t count.”
“I’m counting it.”
I ignored him as I grabbed my beer off the bar. “I have to work. Go find something useful to do, like figure out where my target is hiding.”
“I’d rather do something else.” He stood and offered me his hand. “Dance with me, Dolly.”
“You are out of your mind.” I didn’t dance. Not regular dancing when you could sort of fake your way through it, and definitely not line dancing, where every move had to be precise or you’d ruin the whole thing. “We’re not supposed to be talking yet.”
“You’ve been talking to me all night.” He crooked a finger at me. “Is there a rule saying we can’t have fun at work? Your target hasn’t shown up yet. If he does, I’ll act like I don’t know you, but for now, I want to see your moves.”
“Okay, fine.” When he gave me that look, it was hard to res
ist him. “But you don’t get to critique my dancing. I’m not good and have never pretended to be.”
“That’s because you haven’t had the right partner.” He took me out on the floor and spun me around, bringing me back against him and dipping me in time to the fast beat. “Your boobs are ridiculous, it’s like trying to dance with a rubber raft.”
“I thought men liked this look.” I used the falsies more often than not. They had a way of drawing attention to me, which made my job easier.
“I like the real ones better.” He turned me around and held my hips as he bumped up against my ass. Then he spun me out again and brought us chest to chest.
The music slowed to a softer love song, and I wrapped my arms around his neck. His hands glided down to the small of my back, and he pressed me closer, or as close as I could get with two gigantic water balloons between us. He moved with an easy grace I admired. I rested my head against his chest, fitting snugly under his chin, like we’d been made to mold together in the most perfect way.
“How’s it going, Chicago?” A booming voice from the stage had us breaking apart. “I’m so glad y’all came out tonight. Give it up for our band, Lone Star Riders.”
The man onstage gave an exaggerated wave to the crowd. I recognized his flat face and receding hairline from my Google and Facebook searches.
I’d finally found my target.
CHAPTER 18
I had no choice but to leave Mark on the dance floor and get to work. After my target made his grand entrance, he jumped off the stage and headed to the mechanical bull. I followed, keeping far enough back to assess the situation. He collected a twenty and thumbed a button on his headset, presumably to call one of his waitresses over to take a ride. That’s when I took the opportunity to bump into him, spilling my drink down the front of his shirt.
“Oh my goodness.” I made a big show of pressing my hands against his chest to wipe off the beer. He wasn’t a big man, but he was soft. It was like kneading dough. “I’m just so gosh-darned clumsy. Forgive me.” I gave him my best cow eyes, but he wasn’t looking at my face. So I wrung my hands in a way that would press my cleavage together and got on with the show. “Tell me I can make it up to you.”
“I wouldn’t say no to a drink from a beauty like you,” he said to my chest. “Why don’t you join me in the back, so I can change my shirt.”
I resisted the urge to tell him my eyes were above my neck and offered him my arm. “A handsome man wants to have a drink with clumsy ol’ me? Be still, my heart.” I was laying it on thick, but insecure men always needed a little extra coddling.
“That’s a mighty fine accent you have there.” He led me through saloon-style doors to the employees-only area. “Texas?”
I squealed. “Born and raised. I’m new to this big city, but after I finish school, I’m heading right on back to my family’s horse farm.”
“Horses, huh? I’m a rider myself.” He leered at my chest again. If I couldn’t get him to look at my face just once, he wouldn’t even notice if I left the bar with Mark. “I wonder if my dad ever shot a film there. He did a few westerns.”
There it was. I wondered if the staff took a shot every time he mentioned his father. Probably not. They’d be dead from alcohol poisoning by the end of the night.
“Your daddy is an actor?” I let my voice go breathy with awe as I faux-swooned. “I bet you had all kinds of adventures growing up.”
“Oh yeah.” He led me into a small office with horseshoes and spurs hanging on the wall. A framed photo of him and his father hung next to the labor law posters and the bar’s latest health inspection. He offered me a seat. “I’ve hung out with Brad a few times. You know, Pitt. He’s a cool guy. Clooney is too, but he’s slowed on the partying.”
From my research, Jesse’s father had had him when he was sixty-five and died of a heart attack five years later. Jesse had never set foot in Hollywood. He sure did like to name-drop though. I might’ve felt sorry for him, if he weren’t such a creep.
“That’s so impressive.” It took a lot of skill not to sound like I was watching grass grow. “I bet it’s real nice having a lot of famous friends. But it must be hard sometimes too. My momma says it can be hard for my uncle Matt to be around all them fakers in Hollywood. That’s why he comes to the ranch so much.”
“You got an uncle in acting, pretty girl?” Jesse took off his shirt to change into a fresh one with a cactus design. His nipples were a strange copper color, which made them look like pennies resting on his sad, pale chest. He gave me a look that asked like what you see? and I nearly threw up in my mouth. “What’s his last name? Maybe I know him.”
“McConaughey.”
He choked, a bit of spit flying off his lips. “Matthew McConaughey?”
“Yeah.” I blinked up at Jesse. “Have you heard of him?”
Finally that prick looked at my face. “You have the same-color eyes.”
“Momma says it’s a family trait.” Because no one else in the world had light-blue eyes. Good grief, this one was easy. “He’s helping to pay for my schooling.”
“Maybe I should be the one buying you a drink.” He held out his hand to help me to my feet, glancing at my chest every other word. “How long are you in the city?”
“For the next year.” I pouted. “But you’re the first nice person I met here.” I dipped my lashes. “The first handsome one I met here too.”
“Aww, you’re a sweet one. What’s your name?”
Took him long enough to ask. “Anna.”
One of these days the men of this city would form an Annas Anonymous and swap stories about the chameleon woman who wore a thousand masks and had crushed them all beneath the weight of their own egos. It would only take Jesse a quick Google search to figure out that Matthew McConaughey didn’t have a niece named Anna, but I’d put money on him wanting to believe it so bad that he wouldn’t risk the disappointing truth.
We exited the employee area and headed for the bar. There were two empty stools open next to Mark. Jesse put his hands on my waist to boost me up, and I giggled. Beside me, a muscle ticked in Mark’s jaw. Jesse took the other open stool and only had to lift a finger before he had two Miller Lites plunked down in front of us. Of course he had shitty taste in beer.
“A guy was complaining about the twenty he paid for Misty to ride the bull, so I gave him his money back,” the bartender said. By the way his mouth turned down, he wasn’t a fan of Jesse’s methods either, but he had to protect himself and account for the till.
“Shoot. Forgot to call her up.” Jesse tapped his headset. “Misty. Bull. Now.”
A blonde with large gray eyes wearing a similar headset put down her tray of drinks on the nearest table and shot death lasers at Jesse’s back. She went to the back of the bar and climbed on the bull, her expression completely flat as she rode it. But that didn’t stop a group of guys from crowding around to catcall as they held up their phones to record the video.
Jesse watched her for a minute with a satisfied smile. “You ever ride a bull, Anna?”
I’d rather skinny-dip with piranhas. “No, sir. I’d fear for my lady bits.”
Mark snorted into his beer. Even though he was supposed to be the silent observer, I could feel him just dying to bait me.
“That’s a real shame.” Jesse was back to talking to my chest. “There’s nothing I love more than seeing a pretty lady up on my bull.”
“Oh, well.” I laughed nervously. “I’m more of a horse girl.”
“I can’t imagine a horse and a mechanical bull are all that different.” Mark rubbed his chin, his eyes lighting with humor. I wanted to punch him.
“Who invited you into this conversation?” I asked through clenched teeth.
“Your accent is slipping,” Mark said, close enough to my ear so Jesse couldn’t hear. His warm breath on my neck made my skin pebble.
“I think the gentleman has a point,” Jesse said. “Come on, cowgirl. Why not show all these city slickers in
here how it’s done?”
“Fine.” I took a long swig of beer. “How hard can it be?”
Jesse’s wide, pallid face reminded me of a frog with a mouthful of flies. He tapped on his headset. “Bernie, cut Misty’s ride. We got a very special customer who wants a go.”
At least I’d spared poor Misty from her continued torture. She shot me a grateful look as she slid off the bull, and the cheers and catcalls followed her to the swinging doors into the employee area, where I imagined the waitresses went to scream.
The bull had an aggressive papier-mâché head, and its body was just a reedy cowhide rug screwed onto a machine that would twist and buck with the press of a button. I climbed on and gripped the cool metal handle that stuck up between my legs. As soon as I gave the thumbs-up, the ride started.
It wasn’t so bad. Just a smooth up and down that probably looked like sex to the pervs who gathered around the pen screaming at me to ride it hard. Jesus. No wonder Jesse had to force waitresses on this thing, with the kind of crowd who frequented the bar. Suddenly the bull whipped to the side, and I had to grip my thighs to the cowhide to keep from falling off. Then it reared back, and gravity combined with the stretchy material of my glitter vest caused one of my enormous boobs to smack me under the chin.
I flung an arm over my chest before my vest lost all pretense of holding everything in, which triggered another wave of hoots and hollers from the crowd. Through a cut in the light, I caught sight of Mark’s amused expression before the bull whipped to the side again. I gripped the metal handle with both hands, and my thighs dug into the cowhide so hard I went numb between my legs. Just as the bull whipped to the other side, one of my falsies gave up the fight and popped out over the top of my bra. As if in slow motion, it went flying and landed at Jesse’s feet, nipple up. Since I’d invested in high-quality silicone, it looked like a real breast, and in the dark bar, he probably couldn’t tell the difference. He went ash white, swayed, and passed out cold.
