A Cowboy for Christmas

A Cowboy for Christmas

All Rights Reserved

A Cowboy for Christmas

Copyright Em Petrova 2015

Kindle Edition

Cover design by Love, Lust and Lipstick Stains

Electronic book publication November 2015

The content, characters and events in this book are entirely fiction. Any similarities are unintentional and coincidental.

This year’s Cowboy Christmas in Las Vegas promises to be merry and bright. But the real magic is happening outside the rodeo.

Dusty Waite comes from a family of world championship bronc riders. His father and older brother have been there, done that, and their gold buckles taunt Dusty at every family gathering. Now he’s the top pick for the win. If luck and skill aren’t on his side, he’ll be a family joke—plus he’ll lose his sponsor, Rawhide foods. Losing the money would hurt, but no way will he walk away from the saucy little cowgirl running things.

Avalee Byrd is the marketing mastermind behind Rawhide. The next world championship bronc rider is going to be the face pimping energy drinks and power bars made specifically for hardworking cowboys. Trouble is, he’s more than a little distracted—by her. And she’s having a difficult time keeping herself from landing on Planet Ripped-Abs too.

While Avalee struggles to keep from mixing business with pleasure, Dusty is one determined cowboy. He wants the win, the job
and
the girl. But luck may not be on his side.

Chapter One

Avalee brushed away a wild strand of hair that had escaped her bun, only to have it tumble right back into her face. Her plaid top was damp from working hard in the too-warm building all morning. When she stood back to survey her handiwork, she couldn’t help
but
smile.

Cowboy energy drinks created perfect rows that drew the eye to the old-fashioned crates filled with protein bars. Cowboy Citrus and Cherry Chaps were their bestsellers with Ropin’ Raspberry growing in popularity.

Hopefully, with the help of their swoon-worthy new face of Rawhide foods, they’d be expanding their factory to increase production.

A crash sounded from a nearby vendor’s stall, followed by an intense round of bitching.

“You bumped the cart. Now half the box of pottery is broken.”

“Get yer cart outta my way. You stand there like a donkey croppin’ grass while I’m trying to carry this junk through a small space.” The man’s deep drawl was South Texas. Easy to pick out. After three years doing the Cowboy Christmas show in Las Vegas, Avalee had heard every twang and honeyed drawl out there.

She stole a peek at the couple arguing nearby. His hat was angled low, but the
tip
of his nose was red. Either he’d been sampling the craft beers at the booth across the way or he was miffed. Maybe both.

“Lookin’ good, Byrd.”

Avalee spun with a smile. She’d recognize that lilting baritone anywhere. She faced one of the hottest cowboys in all of Sin City. “Loren! So good to see you.” She darted a look around for his two sidekicks.

“Alex and Posy haven’t made it in yet. They’re drivin’ the U-Haul. I came a day early to check in.”

“You have so many saddles to sell that you need a U-Haul this year?”

The hunk of a man hitched his thumb in his belt in a way that made Avalee wish like crazy he wasn’t already claimed by not one lover but two. The three lived in complete harmony from what she could see. That Posy was a lucky woman. Avalee couldn’t snag one good cowboy let alone two.

Of course, most of her time was spent working, and she never mixed business with pleasure. Never. The business was her life’s blood and her family legacy.

“Yep, we had a ton of orders. Saddle-making business is booming this year. A bunch of customers are competin’ in the National Finals Rodeo and will take the saddles home rather than have us ship them.” He craned his neck to see behind her, where boxes and crates were still unpacked. “You need any help?”

If you were single, yes.
But since Loren was off-limits, she shook her head. “Thank you, but I have CDO.”

“CDO? What’s that?”

“It’s OCD put in alphabetical order.”

He laughed, and she relaxed a bit, glad she hadn’t offended him by refusing his help. When he smiled, small crinkles appeared around each eye, reminding her that he was a cowboy as well as a saddle maker, and he spent a lot of time outdoors.

“Here. Have one on the house.” She reached into a crate and grabbed a Ropin’ Raspberry. She tossed it, and he snagged it out of the air with ease.

“Thank you, Avalee.”

She tipped her head in a quick nod, a habit she’d picked up from her daddy when she was knee-high to a grasshopper. She and her father were close, and he would have trusted her with part of the business even if she were an imbecile. But she took pride in doubling their sales this year.

With any luck, she’d triple their profits next year. Having the championship bronc rider Dusty Waite involved with Rawhide would certainly help. He was a gorgeous mountain of a man with wicked dark hair curling from beneath the brim of his hat and a coal-black beard to match.

She hadn’t yet met him in person, but she’d done a lot of research on Dusty. The highlight of her job was watching interviews and rodeo footage of him.

She threw a wave at Loren, and he ducked into the milling crowd of people working like ants to set up their booths. Everything from bedazzled cowgirl boots to genuine hand-tooled leather belts filled the space. But Rawhide was the only line of performance foods made especially for rough and rugged men who worked long hours in the elements.

Returning to her boxes, she continued arranging the booth to be visually pleasing. Soon her helper—and also the company photographer—Ryan, showed up. He talked to her for a minute or two before reaching into a box and setting cans of Blue Cow-Punch on a rough-hewn wooden shelf.

From the corner of her eye, she watched him set the cans any old way. Some with labels facing inward and a couple were even upside down. Christmas music blasted from a nearby radio, and she gritted her teeth against the sappy ballad.

“You don’t have to do this. You were hired to run the cash register and take pictures.” She bit her lip as she eyed the crooked labels that weren’t in line with the others.

“I don’t mind helping out.” Ryan was a valuable employee, but if he continued unpacking this way, she’d spend twice as long fixing his haphazard work.

“Uhhh—” She looked around for something to distract him. She stopped dead.

A pair of dusty boots came into view sporting a set of hand-forged spurs from a booth down the line. Avalee looked up, up, up a set of long, muscled legs. She gulped at the sight of a very shiny belt buckle and the broad chest above it clad in the tightest possible white cotton.

As she dragged her gaze over the black beard coating a square jaw and then to a set of equally black eyes, she forgot to breathe. Too many seconds passed before her head swam and she pulled in oxygen.

Dusty Waite. In the flesh. A mountain of a man was an understatement. He was more like Everest.

She swallowed.

His gaze clung to hers. For a heartbeat she figured her idea of not mixing business and pleasure could fly the hell out the nearest door.

How did the man have charm without even saying a word?
I have low blood sugar. I need an energy drink.

Ryan jumped in with a greeting. “Hi, you’re Dusty Waite. I’m Ryan. I’ll be doing your photoshoot today.”

Springing to action, Avalee stuck out her hand. Dusty enveloped her fingers with his, giving her a jolt that went straight to her pussy. She had images of him running his callused hands all over her body.

“I’m—”

“Avalee Byrd.” Dusty’s drawl was entirely new and exciting to her ears.
So that’s how Kentucky sounds.
She knew all about him and his family—his father and big brother had championship wins in bronc riding, and Dusty was going to take up the legacy by nabbing his own buckle this week at the rodeo. He was top pick.

He continued to hold her hand though their handshake was long over. Aware she was fangirling and Ryan was giving her the side-eye, she pulled free of Dusty’s touch. His gaze dipped over her slowly.

Damn, she must look a mess. Her bun was crooked on her head—she could feel it. And she was aware of her shirt clinging to her sweaty body.

“Yes, I’m Avalee. Nice to meet you, Dusty. We’ve got a fantastic photoshoot lined up.” She brushed her hands on her jeans, and he watched her action. Her face scorched like a schoolgirl’s. What the hell was wrong with her?

“Sounds good. How long’s it gonna take? I have another appointment lined up.” He tracked her as she moved from crate to crate, gathering the energy bars for him to be photographed eating.

A shiver rolled through her at the thought of seeing his very white teeth tear off bits of these bars over and over. It was food porn, cowboy-style.

Very off-limits cowboy-style.

With her hands full, she twitched her head toward a backdrop she’d already set up for the shoot.

He looked around. “We’re going to shoot right here?”

“Yes, Ryan has the right lighting, don’t worry. You’ll look great.”

His lips twisted upward, his black eyes twinkled—and her panties were suddenly wet. “I don’t need to worry about looking good. Nobody’s ever said I took a bad picture.”

She fought to ignore his cocky comment even as she agreed wholeheartedly with him. The faster she got his photo taken and him out of here, the faster she could return to her levelheaded self. He was setting her off-balance, and her orderly tendencies didn’t like it.

“So will this be a problem?”

He cocked a brow. A dark arching line that pointed to total sin. “Only problem I may have is trying to keep from flirting with a beautiful woman like yourself.”

He was trying not to flirt? Holy crap, what did his flirting look like?

That twinkle in his deep, wideset eyes…the crooked smile… God, she was going to need resuscitated after this photoshoot. Feeling a flush creep over her body, she dumped the armload of bars onto a bench covered with a red horse blanket.

Reaching over her shoulder, he snagged one. “Bandera Biscuits?”

Aware of how close he stood to her—why was he invading her space anyway?—she tossed a glance over her shoulder. “Yes, one of our most popular flavors. Dried berries, oats, honey, whey and orange oil for extra vitamin C.”

His big hand reached past her again. Even the way he dropped the bar onto the blanket was sexy. She scooted to the side in an attempt to put space between them. He was far too comfortable getting in her personal zone. He must be used to having whatever woman he picked out of the crowd, but she wasn’t about to be his next Buckle Bunny.

“What’s in this bar?” He plucked a new one from the bench.

“That’s the Arroyo Ancho. It has Ancho chile, roasted cashews, salt and miscellaneous seeds.”

“Ooh, a spicy one?” The way he drawled that so close to her ear raised all the hair on her arms. Thankfully she was wearing long sleeves rolled to the elbows, but he still might notice.

“Spicy, yes.”

“Have you tried it?”

“Umm, I can’t say I have. I’m not much on spicy foods.”

The bar he was holding joined the other as he dropped it. “Oh? Which do you prefer?”

She adjusted some parts of the set but really to avoid eye contact with Dusty. When he looked at her, her mind jumbled into something close to the hot mash she fed her horse.

He probably does that to every woman.

“I like the Tin Cup Tack.”

He crowded near and rooted around in the pile for the bar she mentioned. “What’s in it?”

“Nuts, seeds, oats and ground coffee bits.”

“Now that sounds more like it.” He tossed the bar onto the bench, and she spent a few minutes arranging them while Dusty and Ryan talked about the scores he’d been bringing over the course of the past month+.

“I watched that last ride you made in Colorado Springs,” Ryan was saying. “Whoooeee! How you stayed on that horse is beyond me. That bronc was possessed!”

Dusty’s chuckle, low and warm, made Avalee’s nipples bunch into tight gumdrops. She tossed a look over her shoulder only to find him staring at her. Her blush was back and about a hundred degrees hotter.

Quickly, she twisted back to her task, fiddling with the Rawhide goods on the bench. As if anybody would even notice the product in these ads—they’d be looking at the gorgeous cowboy.

She grabbed a bar and faced Dusty. Her employee. A breath caught in her throat, but she forced a question past it. “Ready?”

“Sure am.” He winked and sauntered nice and slow to the bench. “Where do you want me?”

Doing pushups. Over me.

She stomped all over that thought. “Umm, Ryan? This is your area of expertise.”

“Okay, just sit on the bench. Naturally. No posing. And I think Avalee wants you to be holding a bar.”

“Eating a bar,” she corrected. “Here.” She grabbed one and carefully tore off a corner in a neat fashion that would look good on camera. Then she passed it to him.

He jerked his head back and pulled a face. “Tell me that isn’t the vomit-flavored bar.”

Her lips fell open. For a moment she couldn’t make out his meaning. All at once understanding hit. “Vomit-flavored?”

“Yeah. I’m not only a professional bronc rider. In my off time, I ride behind two-hundred head of cattle on my family’s ranch in Kentucky. I’ve actually eaten Rawhide bars before. Remember, my brother was the last face on your ad campaigns? You had a lifetime supply sent to the ranch.”

She settled a hand on her hip. She’d hired someone to endorse a product he hated? Crap on toast, this was going to be bad.

“Just bite the bar.”

“What the hell’s in it?” His nostrils flared as she waved it before his nose.

“It’s the Coldspring Canyon bar. Some whey protein and fish oils, corn, seeds and curry.”

He nodded, dark eyes dancing. “Like I said—vomit-flavored.”

“It. Is. Not,” she bit off through a clenched jaw. Why did he have to be so badass-hot? The sparkles in his dark eyes made her lady parts sit up and beg.

“Okay, then it smells like vagina. I don’t know whether to eat it or fuck it.”

A wheeze left Avalee.

Ryan roared with laughter, and several people in the neighboring stalls looked around at the sound. As soon as they spotted Dusty, they smiled. But Avalee was not amused.