Cowgirl Crazy (#2, Cowboy Way) (5 page)

Twyla’s ass was one of those asses.

If Zack was here, Ryan knew he would already
be dead, and Twyla would be over his shoulder being carried out of
here. That is what he needed to do, carry her pretty little ass out
of this bar and shake some sense into her. But getting to her
wasn’t going to be easy. She was flanked by the big bouncer, and
another mean-looking man who was smaller, but no less fierce. He
was surveying the crowd just as intently as the bouncer, while the
dancers started their routine of practiced rump shaking and hip
twisting.

Twyla, to his surprise, kept up with them in
perfect harmony. Ryan had danced with her before out of obligation
at her parent’s anniversary party a few years back. His toes were
just now recovering. It looked to him like she had found her rhythm
now though. She was at the center of the group, and the center of
attention. Most of the men there were watching her. He knew he sure
was. How could any man in his right mind ignore those long legs,
that pert little ass, and those perfect breasts pushing over her
still tucked-up tank top?

She was the tallest of the group of women, her
body the most toned, probably from all the riding she did. As far
as Ryan was concerned, Twyla was the sexiest of the bunch by far.
And she was definitely working that to her advantage with her
exaggerated movements. Heather was good, but Twyla was definitely
working it the best. Ryan hadn’t ever seen better, even in the many
strip clubs he and Zack had frequented while they were on tour. And
that pissed him off. Twyla Taylor was not a stripper, she was a
fucking cowgirl. She should not be here doing this. He should not
be letting her do this, or enjoying it.

That is what his stepfather would be doing, if
he was here, and Ryan was definitely not that man. There could be a
man just like Clarence James here in this crowd, a predator just
waiting for an opening to hurt her. She should have better sense
than this.

Ryan shoved the man who had edged his way in
front of him aside. He scooted sideways a few feet to the right to
stand at the bar in front of where Twyla was dancing. The long
fringe on her boots mesmerized him as she stomped them on the bar
and wiggled her ass. In his face.

His hands lifted on their own and his fingers
flexed, wanting to feel that soft supple skin at the hem of her
shorts. The bouncer shot him a hot look and Ryan realized what he
was doing. He dropped them to his sides, and heaved a shuddering
breath. At least nobody could touch her. That was something. But
they could look all they wanted, and it irritated the hell out of
him. He would love nothing more than moving down the line of men
and punching each one of them in the nose.

He had to find some way to talk to her, or get
her out of here. But that damned brute protecting the dancers would
kick his ass, and he was sure the rough looking dude a little ways
down the bar doing the same would help. Ryan wasn’t in the mood to
get his ass kicked tonight, and he wasn’t going to wind up in jail.
The only one he had to call to bail him out would be Zack. And then
he’d be dead anyway. They’d both end up in jail because he wasn’t
going down without a fight. That wouldn’t do either of them any
good. Twyla would still be here shaking her ass for any man with a
dollar in his hand.

The only option Ryan had was to stay here and
watch out for her, watch her, until she got off. When the bar
closed, she’d have to leave and he could talk to her then. He knew
where she lived. She could run, but she couldn’t hide. That sounded
like as good a plan as any.

Ryan relaxed a little, and refocused on
Heather’s gyrating ass, so maybe he could get his body under
control. She did nothing for him, never had. When she’d been on the
circuit, Ryan thought Zack might give her a test-drive though. He
had talked about her a lot, but nothing had ever come of it. Then
she left the rodeo to come here evidently. This job suited the
curvy brunette, as much as it didn’t suit Twyla. Suddenly the
dancers spun to face the crowd, and he heard a gasp. His eyes flew
to Twyla’s and her shocked expression quickly faded, replaced by
anger. The other dancers were still moving to the music, but she
wasn’t dancing. Her body practically vibrated with anger as her
eyes scorched him.

“
C’mon, Daisy! Song’s not
over--shake your ass!” the drunk guy who’d given her a hundred a
few minutes ago shouted. Twyla’s gaze bounced to him, then back to
Ryan. “What the hell are you doing here?” she leaned forward to
growl with her fists clenched at her sides.

He took a step forward and fought the urge to
grab her ankles and toss her over his shoulder. “That’s damned
funny. I was about to ask you the same thing. What the hell are you
doing, Sis—Twyla?” He corrected his use of the nickname because he
knew if he called her Sissy, as mad as she was, she’d likely kick
him in the teeth.

It was Zack’s nickname for his sister, and
Ryan had adopted it too, to remind himself where he needed to keep
things between them when he felt that attraction to her. It also
told her where he was keeping things with her. Usually it pissed
her off enough that she walked away mad, which meant he didn’t have
to deal with those feelings. A win-win all the way around. Not this
time. He had to keep her from getting to the walk away point, so he
could talk to her.

“
I’m
working
,” she gritted
out between her teeth, as she stood back up to put her hands on her
hips. When he didn’t move, she pointed to the door.
“Leave!”

Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan noticed
when the bouncer finally noticed him. The man’s eyes narrowed as he
shoved a couple of men aside to walk over to Ryan. Ryan swallowed
hard, and dragged his eyes from Twyla’s to meet the man’s hard
brown eyes. Without looking at Twyla, he demanded, “This asshole
bothering you, Daisy?”

Why the fuck was everyone calling her Daisy?
It was demeaning, and he figured she earned it from the shorts she
was wearing. Anger shot through him, and came out with his words.
“Her name is
Twyla
, not Daisy, asshole. And I’m a friend of
hers. She’s leaving with me.”

“
I’m not going anywhere, but you
sure are,
buddy
,” Twyla said smugly, using her nickname for
her brother. That told him she hadn’t missed his slipup. Crossing
her arms over her breasts, she tilted her head to the side. “Teddy,
this man is deluded, he’s definitely no friend of mine.”

Twyla turned her back on him, and shock rocked
him as the bouncer grabbed his arm in a painful grip. Ryan swung
and then bells went off in his skull when a fist connected with his
nose. He heard the sickening crunch, felt the warmth of the blood
gushing down his face. “Twyla what the fuck are you doing?” Ryan
shouted as he was jerked out of the line.

“
Getting a life, just like you
told me to,” she shouted back, with a dry laugh. She flicked her
hair and her hips started moving in time with the other dancers
again. “I suggest you do the same once the bruises heal. Try not to
kill him, Teddy.” The burly bouncer shoved him, then dragged him
through the crowd toward the front door.

On his knees outside the front door where the
bouncer tossed him, a puddle of blood pooling on the ground in
front of him from his probably broken nose, Ryan finally realized
exactly how mad Twyla was, and how difficult his task here would
be. He no longer had confidence that he could talk her into
anything, much less coming back to the circuit with him. His former
second-best friend evidently meant it when she said she was done
with him. The sad part was Ryan couldn’t really blame
her.

But even with a broken nose for his trouble of
trying to talk sense in her, Ryan knew he couldn’t give up. For her
own safety, and his sanity, Twyla needed to get out of here before
he headed back to the circuit. He had a week, and even if she
didn’t agree to come back with him, he was going to do whatever it
took to get her away from this bar and these men, help her get on
another track to finding that life he told her to get.

This wasn’t about Zack’s anger anymore. This
was about Twyla’s self-respect. Ryan cared about her. A lot. She
was his family, and he couldn’t stand by and watch her ruin her
life.

Determination filled him as he stood and
brushed off his jeans, before pulling his t-shirt over his head to
hold it to his steadily bleeding nose. He picked up his hat and
slammed it down on his head, before heading toward his truck at the
back of the lot.

The bouncer had given him ninety seconds to
leave before he called the police. Ryan had used up sixty getting
his senses back. He knew the man wasn’t kidding, so he double-timed
his steps. He couldn’t help Twyla if he was in jail. And he wasn’t
going to be able to drive, unless he got the bleeding stopped from
his nose.

Ryan got into the truck and moved the t-shirt
from his nose to pinch the bridge and hold his head back for a
minute. He turned on the dome light to inspect the damage in the
rearview mirror. The bleeding from his right nostril had stopped,
but his left poured a steady stream. His left eye was also quickly
turning black. It wouldn’t surprise him if it was closed shut in
the morning. The big bruiser’s fist had been almost half as big as
Ryan’s face.

It had been stupid of him to take a swing at
the man, but when the bouncer grabbed him, Ryan’s fist flew without
thought to the consequences. He only knew he needed to be in that
bar to protect Twyla, until he could talk to her. To make damned
sure nobody touched her. That man’s quick reaction, and brick-like
fist convinced Ryan though, that Twyla didn’t need his protection.
That was the only reason he wasn’t charging back inside right now,
damn the consequences. Blood dripped onto his chest and he swiped
it with his forearm.

Leaning across the truck, he flipped open the
glove box, hoping he had some Kleenex in there to pack his nose. He
found a half-eaten Twinkie, which had to be Twyla’s, and shoved it
aside with disgust. He knew she was addicted to Twinkies. He and
Zack teased her about it, calling her the Twinkie Queen. Both of
them had been forced into late night snack runs when she was upset
or feeling bad. That’s when she craved them. He pushed a stack of
unopened bills to the side and saw a pack of gum, and a cylindrical
paper-covered object at the very back. He left the gum, but pulled
out the other object and held it up to the dome light.

A tampon, probably left in there by Twyla too.
Tampons stopped bleeding, right? The paper was off the end of it,
and the cotton was a little brown, but he figured it was better
than nothing. He slid the cotton-stuffed cardboard tube out of the
wrapper. Leaning close to the mirror, he held his breath and
inserted the tip with the cotton end into his nose. He shoved it
further up inside and pain shot through his eyeball to the base of
his skull.

After a second it subsided, and he looked back
in the mirror and saw the bleeding had lessened, but not stopped.
He flinched and shoved it a little farther up inside his nose.
Picking up his shirt, he wiped away what he could of the blood on
his face and chest. In the process, he accidentally hit the end of
the cardboard tube, which sent another shot of pain through his
skull, along with a wave of nausea. Across the parking lot, he saw
the bar door open, and the big black bouncer step
outside.

“
Fuck,” Ryan groaned, fumbling for
his keys in his pocket.

The last thing he needed was round two, he
thought, as he shoved the keys into the ignition, cranked the truck
and threw it in gear. Twyla would have to come home eventually. And
when she did, he’d be at her apartment waiting for her. They were
going to talk tonight, whether she wanted to or not.

CHAPTER
FOUR

Dog-tired, Twyla picked up the bag of Twinkies
she’d made Heather stop for on the way home off of the floorboard.
Heather pulled the truck to a stop in their usual spot right by the
stairway under the security light, and she opened her door. This
secure spot was theirs, because the maintenance man was half in
love with Heather. He had even put up a no-parking sign for the
spot to make sure it stayed open for them. As many weirdos as they
met at the bar, it was necessary for them to take precautions that
they weren’t followed home at night.

Heather might be wild, but she wasn’t crazy or
careless with their safety. She looked out for herself pretty
damned well. A lot better than Twyla had ever looked out for
herself. Sometimes Twyla thought her friend had eyes in the back of
her head. She seemed to sense when trouble was about to happen.
Maybe as a result of working at the bar, her reflexes were
razor-sharp from dodging grabby hands. Twyla hoped she would
eventually develop those skills too, or she might not last long at
the Crazy Cowgirl.

Tonight, when they left the bar, Heather had
taken extra care, even having Teddy walk them to her truck, for a
different reason. Ryan had showed up at the bar and she definitely
didn’t want to see him again tonight. Twyla could only imagine what
his face looked like, and how mad he was. She hadn’t seen Teddy hit
him, but she’d heard the sickening crunch, and his
grunt.

It served him right for coming there, but damn
if she wasn’t worried sick he was hurt. Tomorrow, she would call
him to make sure he was okay and tell him to stay away from her. It
was a relief not to see his black truck in the lot when they pulled
in. Evidently he didn’t know where they lived, or she knew he would
be there. All she needed tonight was another confrontation with
him.