Cowboy Heaven (20 page)

“The way I heard it, you wanted to be closer to your office.”

“Yeah, well, don't believe everything you hear,” Rachel said. “Her first husband was bad enough, but the second one was even worse. She may have finally reached the point where she couldn't stand being married to him, but you're right; her taste in men hasn't improved.”

“Maybe I should tell her Bull is only here because he didn't want to waste his money on a hooker when he could get laid for the price of a drink.”

Rachel dissolved into helpless laugher, which took years off her. She wasn't a bad-looking woman, but she'd always seemed sort of morose where men were concerned.

“Oh God,” she wailed, wiping her streaming eyes. “Jenny's sure to fall for him now.”

I nodded. “Pretty soon she'll have him spoiled rotten and then wonder why he's impossible to live with. That mustache must have her mesmerized.”

“Wouldn't surprise me a bit,” Rachel said. “I've seen it happen before.”

“I was hoping to pair her off with Troy.”

She directed her gaze toward the other end of the table. “Troy is the really handsome, dark-haired one, right?”

“Yep. He's got plenty of
other
traits to recommend him too. I should know.” I hoped my suggestive tone and the significant lift of my brow were enough to make my meaning clear without shocking her. Rachel had never been terribly excited about men in general, and I wasn't sure how well she would cotton to the idea of me taking on a boy toy. Then again, she hadn't heard the whole story. “Just not sure how ready he is to settle down.”

Judging from the way her jaw dropped, my efforts to break it to her gently had failed. “You haven't slept with him, have you?”

“Now you're sounding like my father,” I said, rolling my eyes. “He wouldn't like the idea, either—that is, if he'd known about it. Actually, I sort of decided I was already in love with Dusty, so I had to give him up.”

“He doesn't seem to be too broken up about it,” she observed.

I glanced over at Troy, who was laughing it up with Caroline. No, he didn't seem the slightest bit upset. “Trust me, he doesn't stay down for long. Twenty minutes, maybe,” I added with a sly grin. “But that's about it.”

She acknowledged this with a puzzled frown, but let it pass. “Who's that last one you were dancing with?”

“That's Joe,” I replied. “If you'd get your buns down to the other end of the table, you wouldn't have to ask me all this. You need to talk with them, not me. And don't worry about the numbers. The redhead is about to become history. Come on.”

Dusty was well into his third bottle of beer, and the redheaded chick was practically in his lap. He wasn't even bothering to encourage her anymore. She was doing just fine all on her own.

“Dusty, Dusty,” I said with a slow wag of my head. “What am I gonna do with you?”

He looked up at me with a dreamy-eyed smile. “Take me home and suck my balls?” His speech was only slightly slurred, and if his rapt expression was any indication, the redhead might have been an inanimate object.

Not to mention grossed out.

“Eeeww! That's disgusting!”

She might think it was disgusting, but she obviously didn't hold it against him because she still had her arm around him—a circumstance I found particularly repugnant.

Oh yes, I was feeling
quite
possessive. Now that Dusty and I had each managed to make the other jealous, it was perfectly obvious where our true desires lay. The rest of the world could go hang for all we cared—but I still had to eliminate the intruder.

“Don't knock it 'til you try it, sweetheart.” I bared my teeth in a mirthless smile. “If you want to keep that arm, you'd best be getting it off my husband.” I was quoting Loretta Lynn, but this chick was probably too young and too drunk to realize that—or to figure out that Dusty and I weren't married.

“Hear that?” Dusty was still gazing at me with a beatific smile. “She called me her husband. I think I like that. Angel, will you marry me?”

“Ask me again when you're sober, and I'll consider it.”

Dusty gave the redhead a nudge. “Get up now, ma'am. You're sitting in my Angel's chair.”

The girl hesitated just long enough to annoy me. Raising my right arm, I casually pushed up my sleeve. I'm not very tall, nor have I ever been what anyone would call intimidating, but she took the hint and scurried off like a scared rabbit.

Dusty didn't even seem to notice she was gone. “I love you, Angel. Take me home now. Please?”

“Not yet,” I replied. “I haven't accomplished anywhere near what I'd hoped to tonight. Why don't you sober up and explain to Jenny what a mistake she's making—as soon as she comes back, anyway. Where is she?”

“I think she might have gone to the restroom,” Caroline said. “I don't know where Bull is, but—”

A quick survey of the room was all it took to spot him. “Never mind. I see him. He's over by the bar, hitting on the redhead. Be right back.”

I gave Dusty a quick kiss before heading off to find Jenny. I corralled her as she was coming out of the ladies' room.

“Dammit, Jenny,” I snapped. “You've been dancing with the wrong guy.” Pointing a surreptitious finger at Troy, I ticked off his attributes. “Bigger dick, fabulous ass, twenty-minute turnaround time, and unlike lightbulb head there, he's a real sweetie. You do the math.”

“But isn't he the one you—?”

“Forget about me,” I said with an impatient stomp of my foot. “Trust me, I don't need him anymore—haven't you been paying attention? So what if he doesn't have a handlebar mustache? Troy would probably grow one if you asked him nicely. Bull may have a gorgeous mustache, but he's a complete asshole.”

“But—”

“But nothing. See for yourself. He's already gone off in search of easier game. Troy, on the other hand, is having a pretty good time with your friend Caroline, so you'd better get cracking. I brought two perfectly good cowboys with me tonight. Why you had to pick the one I'd just as soon have left at home is beyond me.”

“Troy
is
handsome,” she admitted. “Who's the other one?”

“That's Joe. He's a real sweetie, too. Plus, he's got the biggest dick you'll ever see without renting a video, although I probably shouldn't admit to knowing that from firsthand observation. Trust me, you could do a lot worse.”

Scowling, she pursed her lips in a pout. “He's not very good-looking.”

“But he's a helluva nice guy. Great kisser, too. You of all people should know looks aren't everything. Even Troy will tell you he gets away with murder because he's so damn charming. He knows it and uses it to his advantage. Joe might play on your sympathy a bit, but he's really quite likable. If he hadn't been so shy I might've fallen for him myself.”

Jenny didn't seem convinced. “I'm sure he's wonderful and all that, but when you bring along someone who looks like the man of my dreams, what did you expect?”

Knowing what I did about Bull, I couldn't imagine he would resemble the man of anyone's dreams. Jenny needed to have her eyes checked.

“I
expected
you to learn from your previous mistakes. Cody never could understand why the really pretty girls always went for the biggest pricks. I've never understood it myself. Why
is
that? Can you tell me?”

All she did was stand there looking at me, her face as blank as a clean sheet of paper.

I threw up my hands in defeat. “Okay. I give up. The ball's in your court now. I promised my guys I'd help them meet some women who weren't in it for the money. The rest is up to them—and you. Obviously I'm not much of a matchmaker. But please, consider yourself warned. Bull is not—and I repeat,
not
—relationship-worthy.”

Jenny might've acknowledged me with a nod, but that didn't stop her from aiming a longing gaze at Bull. Resigned to her being a hopeless case, I stomped off to the restroom, washing my hands of the whole mess. I shouldn't have been surprised. My family hardly ever heeded my advice—even though my suggestions usually proved to be the best options. Most of the time, anyway.

As if I weren't already irritated enough, I made the mistake of noticing the other women in the restroom were all young, lithe, and beautiful. Bare midriffs flowed upward to tight, scoop-necked tops that clung lovingly to round, succulent breasts. Tight jeans hung low on hips that probably had no panties on them at all, unless they were wearing thongs. I sighed, shaking my head, before making the even more disastrous mistake of glancing in the mirror.

I must admit, I looked better than usual. My hair was twisted up in a clip as Dusty had suggested rather than in my usual braids. The deep cranberry shade of my V-necked top went well with my complexion. Like everyone else, I wore boots and jeans, and they didn't look half bad, despite my rather round figure.

But I was nothing compared to the other occupants of the room. Their torsos alone were longer than my entire body. I was undeniably older than any of them, and I had never been as stunning even when I was their age—not bad, but certainly not stunning. Did any of them realize how lucky they were to have been born beautiful?

Probably not.

Needless to say, I returned to our table feeling rather low.

Dusty sat there alone. At first glance he seemed as forlorn as I was. But he smiled when he saw me coming—that sweet, crooked smile that always warmed me all the way to my toes. Suddenly, I felt much, much better.

“Where'd everyone go? Home?”

He shook his head. “Dancing.” Even our attentive waitress seemed to have neglected him; his beer bottle was conspicuously empty. Spotting the waitress, I waved her over and ordered another round. Dusty opted to forgo the beer and drink Coke along with me this time. Having placed our order, I turned my chair around to face him, running my hand over his cast.

“How long before you get this thing off?”

“Another three weeks,” he replied. “I can't wait. It's been a total pain in the ass.”

An amused smile played across my lips. “I'm sure it is, but at least it kept you close to home where I could see more of you.”

I watched, fascinated, as Dusty's sensuous lips curled into a provocative smile. “You've seen a
lot
more of me, haven't you?” His gaze swept over me as though assessing every detail. His smile broadened, making me feel far more attractive than I had mere moments before. “I've seen a lot more of you too. I don't suppose we could go somewhere more…private, could we?”

“What? And leave everyone else to fend for themselves?”

Dusty seemed to have sobered up considerably in the past fifteen minutes, leading me to wonder if he'd really been quite as drunk as he'd appeared. “Caroline already went home—said something about her babysitter not wanting to be out very late—which leaves Jenny and Rachel to take care of Troy and Joe.” He glanced over his shoulder at the dance floor. “I don't think they'd mind too much if we asked them nicely. I don't give a shit what happens to Bull.”

“He, um, followed your little friend over to the bar.” I nodded in their direction. Apparently she'd transferred her attentions with no difficulty whatsoever and was now draped over Bull like a second skin. “By the way, did you enjoy having her hanging all over you?”

“Not really,” he replied. “She was pretty, but she's not my Angel.” With a cunning grin, he added, “My Angel would never say sucking my balls was disgusting.”

“Never.” I agreed with him wholeheartedly, although it was something I'd never actually done prior to that evening. “There isn't a single thing about you that's disgusting, Dusty. Not one single, solitary thing.”

“I'm glad you feel that way,” he said. “Hold that thought.”

I glanced up as our friends made their way back to the table, noting that they still weren't paired off the way I thought they should be. Jenny was partnered with Joe, and Troy was escorting Rachel. It was all wrong; their heights didn't even match up right. Rachel was actually a shade taller than Troy while Jenny hit Joe at about the same level that I had. I shook my head in disgust. These people were enough to drive any self-respecting matchmaker to drink. However, I refrained from comment, saying instead that Dusty was getting tired and I probably ought to take him home.

To my surprise, this didn't seem to be a problem. “I'll take the others home if they want to stay longer,” Jenny offered. “Or Rachel could do it. We drove separately.”

The knowing lift of Troy's brow made it plain I hadn't deceived him for a moment. He knew precisely why I wanted to leave. “Tired, huh? It's not
that
late.”

“
Sick
and tired,” Dusty amended, never once taking his eyes from my face.

“Hmm…tired of waiting, maybe,” Troy suggested. “Myself, I think I'd like to stick around a while longer.” He glanced at Rachel. “Would you mind taking me home?”

I know how
I
would've replied to that question if I'd been in her place—especially since I'd already done it once. But Rachel? I wasn't sure.

She beamed a radiant smile at him. “Not at all.”

Joe wasn't even mentioned, which made me wonder whose house Rachel planned to take him to. I seemed to have missed something somewhere. However, one glance at Joe made it patently obvious he wasn't ready to leave, either.

Still, I had one more cowboy to account for. “Think you could make sure Bull has a way home too?”

Dusty's grin suggested he knew something the rest of us didn't. “I don't think you need to worry about Bull. That redheaded hooker will see that he gets home all right—although he'll probably have to pay extra for the ride.”

“Hooker?” I squeaked in astonishment. “You mean she's—”

Dusty nodded. “Sure seemed that way to me. I guess she thought I might be desperate enough to pay since I couldn't dance—or she thought I was, I dunno…unattached, maybe?”

“Well, shit,” I exclaimed. “If that's the case, I'm not leaving you alone again for a second.” Dusty was much too attractive for anyone to think he would have to pay for sex—broken leg or no. That girl was either incredibly stupid or she wasn't much of a hooker—especially since ball-sucking was one of the least disgusting acts a prostitute might be called upon to perform. She couldn't have known Dusty had won the cutest balls award in our contest, but
still
…

I giggled wickedly. “He's going to end up paying after all.”

“Serves him right,” Dusty said. “Let's go home, Angel.”

* * *

Dusty must have truly been tired because he fell asleep on the way to the ranch. Granted, it was a fairly long drive and the beer may have been partly responsible, but he had to be exhausted from dragging himself around all day with a cast on his leg. I had an idea he'd been conking out fairly early these days, kinda like I did when I was pregnant.

I'd seen him asleep before, but still felt the need to glance over at him from time to time, watching him as he slept. Mark Chesnutt's cover of “I Don't Want to Miss a Thing” was playing on the radio. I knew exactly what those lyrics meant now. I didn't want to fall asleep—I wanted to watch him until the sun rose and he stirred, blinking the sleep from his eyes. I wanted to see him do whatever he did first thing in the morning—even if it was rubbing his dick or scratching his balls.

I'd never given Cody the chance to mess with his version of morning wood. I nearly always woke up first—reaching for him, massaging his back, pulling off his underwear, and going for his ass, his tiny sighs and groans telling me how pleased he was to be awakened in that manner. I would push him onto his back to stroke his cock, feeling it stiffen even more beneath my touch.

My God, how I missed that.

After we turned off the highway and onto the bumpy, pitted road that would take us home, I drove more slowly, trying not to wake him.

I wanted to take Dusty back to my room that night—my own bed, in my own house. I wanted to keep him there until morning and stay in bed late, making love with him in a slow, lazy, Sunday morning sort of way. I wanted to fix breakfast for him, watch him eat it, and then make love with him all over again. If he fell asleep, so much the better. I would keep watch over him, ensuring that no harm would ever come to him. Nothing bad could happen if I was there to prevent it. I was his guardian angel—he'd said so himself—and I couldn't fail him, because if I did, I'd be failing myself.