Dylan (2 page)

No one was there.
Good.
He hightailed it out the door and down the hallway; he was done. He needed to go home.

Home… the Circle G.
Too bad his mom and grandfather wouldn't be there. Days like today, when he'd run dry, he could have used a hug from his mom, or one of his grandfather's affectionate cuffs on the back of the head.

We're here, Son.
His grandfather's voice echoed in his head
. Don't doubt it for a moment.
He'd heard the words so many times growing up, when he was tired, he could call up any one of a hundred times his grandfather had spoken them.

Oddly relieved, he reached for the front door.

“Going somewhere, cowboy?”

His sigh was loud and long as he turned around to face his boss. “Jolene, I'm dead on my feet and know I've done everything you've asked for the last three nights.” He waited for one of her long-winded speeches about how important the dancers were to the lonely women who came to her place to dream about what kind of man they really wanted in their lives. Go figure, every last one of them wanted a cowboy.

But instead, she surprised him and agreed. “Yes. You've more than held up your end of the bargain. I'm impressed by how hard the Garahan brothers work.”

“You still need me tomorrow night?” He actually held his breath, hoping she'd say no.

Jolene shook her head. “We hired a dancer today, he starts tomorrow night.”

He breathed a sigh of relief.

“I'm sure you're heartbroken.”

“Well,” he said slowly, “if it doesn't work out…” He let his words drift off; he didn't want to commit to working any more nights at the Lucky Star. Three had been more than enough for him, but now that meant that he'd have a chance to get started on the first carpentry job on his list and see if he could get to know Ronnie while setting her store to rights. It wasn't a large job, but at least for the time being, he'd be able to bring in the extra money they needed until the ranch was out of the red. He hoped he'd be a lot closer to sweet-talking Ronnie into bed before the job was over. He had a gut-deep feeling she'd be one hellacious ride.

“I'll keep you and your brother Jesse in mind in case this latest dancer doesn't work out. Would you mind if I asked you to be on standby for the next few nights?”

He tipped his hat. “My pleasure, ma'am.”

Dylan turned to go, but Jolene held out a hand to stop him. “I know how hard it was for you to get up there on stage, Dylan.”

He shrugged.

“You and Tyler have been fabulous for business, and your work ethic can't be beat. I have a feeling Jesse would work just as hard.”

Knowing she had something on her mind, he waited until she finally got to the point. “Would you and your brothers be interested in being part of an all-male revue?”

His stomach knotted. “Does that mean what I think it does?”

She tilted her chin up and frowned at him. “I have no idea what you think, but before you go jumping to any conclusions, I'll tell you. Emily and I have been talking it over with Gwen, Natalie, and Jennifer, and we've decided to add to the entertainment part of Take Pride in Pleasure Day by having the Lucky Star represented with a lineup of dancers.”

He felt the blood rush from his head to his toes and dug deep for the strength to keep standing. It was hard to speak with his jaw clenched, but he managed to grind out, “Are you nuts? There's no way my brothers or I would strip in public.”

When Jolene's eyes twinkled and she started to laugh, he was transported back in time to the first day of sixth grade, when he'd felt like he'd landed in an alternate universe and everyone but him spoke a foreign language.

He shook his head to clear out the unwanted memory. When she realized he wasn't laughing with her, she closed her mouth and swallowed gamely. “I'm not laughing at you.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You are.”

“Well, maybe just a little,” she said laying a hand on his arm. “The revue will have a lineup of four or six dancers dressed up as cowboys: jeans, boots, hats, and vests—no shirts.”

He snorted. “Who're you gonna find to dress up?”

“I thought I'd ask a couple of real cowboys to round out the lineup. How about it, Dylan? Would you ask your brothers and let me know? It'd be a big favor if all y'all agreed.”

He felt as if he'd been lassoed around the chest, and Jolene was pulling the rope tighter. The expectant look on her face was hard to say no to.
Damn.
“Do I have to answer you right now?”

“You can let me know in the next couple of days.”

He nodded and turned to go, and damned if she didn't call out to him again. “Jolene, not that I don't want to stay and chat, but hell, what part of ‘I'm done' didn't you get?”

“Relax, cowboy. I just wanted to tell you that you made Ronnie's birthday.”

He narrowed his gaze at her and waited for the rest. With women, there was always more than a simple statement.

Like before, Jolene didn't disappoint him.

“She still looks dazed from that kiss you stole.”

He tipped his hat to the back of his head. “That a fact?”

His boss smiled at him, and he actually smiled back. “Why don't you ask her yourself?”

Dylan's gut twisted remembering the chill of her rejection. “Maybe later. See you, Jolene.” When he'd stepped through the door, he paused and called out, “Hey boss?”

She turned to look over her shoulder. “Yeah?”

“Thanks.”

Jolene shook her head. “My pleasure, cowboy. Now get on home.”

He may have hated stripping, but he didn't mind working for Jolene. “You're not as tough as you let on, Ms. Langley.”

Her laughter followed him out into the night.

***

Ronnie DelVecchio's pulse still pounded wildly in time with her heart.
Forget
him, forget that kiss!
she told herself. He's just another guy pretending to be someone he's not, dressing up like a cowboy, but paid to strip… and paid to make her feel special. But the calluses on his hands felt real, and his muscles felt like he used them for more than just show.
When
will
I
learn?
Just because he'd mesmerized her with the dark and dangerous promise deep in his molten chocolate eyes was no reason to do something so stupid as to let him kiss her brainless and fall all over him. He was just a man… period.
A
cowboy
wannabe.

Now that he'd gone, the sizzling kiss they'd shared kept replaying over and over in her mind along with the feeling that she'd met him before. Damn, she'd always loved watching those old TV Westerns with her grandmother, and the man who'd lassoed her looked like a combination of John Wayne, Gary Cooper, and Roy Rogers all rolled up into one dangerously attractive man. Dark hair, dark eyes, gorgeous hunk of cowboy—he had to be one of Tyler Garahan's brothers. The handsome hunk now had a name, and Garahan men spelled trouble. She had a reason to steer clear of him.

Why
am
I
talking
to
myself?
I
should
be
giving
my
friends
hell
for
talking
me
into
letting
them
blindfold
me
and
setting
me
up
to
get
lassoed
and
kissed
by
that
hunkalicious
cowboy.
Her temper simmered, heating dangerously close to a boil. She would refuse to accept the blame for locking lips with the muscle-bound cowboy.
That
way
you
can
take
your
anger
at
yourself
out
on
everybody
else.

Her grandmother said it often enough that her own conscience replayed the words at the most irritating moments. The last time she'd heard the words she'd been getting into her cousin's truck, preparing to leave her former life behind her to start a new one out West. Her grandmother hadn't wanted her to leave but had accepted Ronnie's decision to go as long as Ronnie promised to stay in touch, calling home often. Well, this was something she wouldn't be telling her grandmother about.

Besides, Ronnie was a grown woman and could accept blame… or place the blame on whomever she wished.
As
long
as
you're honest with yourself.
She looked over her shoulder and sighed. Having a conscience was a royal pain in the ass.

Draining the Mega-Margarita, wishing she'd declined and gone for her usual longneck bottle of beer, Ronnie set the glass on the tabletop. The memory of the cowboy's lips lightly pressed to hers, drawing her in, soothing her before he eased back and locked gazes with her, had her shivering. Remembering the way he'd waited for her to stop him—right before he rocked her world with that mind-blowing kiss. A kiss that sent sparks of desire screaming through her sensitized system like a shot of tequila. But she'd given up combining hard alcohol and men after her divorce; the two were not a good mix for her. Things always ended badly.

“Ready for another?”

Before she could answer, her friend Shannon signaled the bartender for another.

“I do not want another one of those.” Ronnie moaned in a delayed reaction, as the frozen concoction hit her right between the eyes with a serious case of brain freeze. Just like when the dark-eyed cowboy paralyzed her with his intentions right before he laid his lethal lips on hers.

“I thought you wanted to try something wild and wonderful for your birthday.”

Ronnie raised her head. “Would that be the blindfold or having the cowboy lasso me?”

Shannon snickered into her oversized drink. “Actually, your friend Mavis came up with the second idea. Jolene suggested the blindfold and we ran with it.” Taking a sip of her own drink, Shannon licked her lips and sighed. “José is definitely
my
friend.”

Ronnie looked at her and tried not to sigh. Shannon McKenna was blonde and beautiful. Too bad she was so likeable, or else Ronnie could toss the drink she'd just been handed into her friend's face or dump it over her head. “You know I like beer. Tequila is not my friend. Besides, I wanted to go somewhere different for my birthday.”

“You didn't say somewhere when you mentioned that little tidbit a few weeks ago,” Shannon reminded her. “You said
something
different.”

Ronnie shrugged. “Same thing.”

“No, it's not,” Shannon grumbled into her glass. “By the way, what did you think of Dylan the Delicious?”

Ronnie paused with the drink a fraction away from her lips and had to laugh. “He certainly was.” Taking a healthy sip, she swallowed and licked her lips. “Which one of Tyler's brothers is he: the middle or the youngest?” One of them would be very important in her life, helping her rebuild Guilty Pleasures.

Totally clueless to Ronnie's inner turmoil, Shannon shrugged in answer, set her half-empty drink on the table, and leaned toward Ronnie. “I have to ask.” She leaned closer. “What was it like when he tossed the lasso around you and reeled you in?”

Turmoil evaporated like morning dew under the heat of the morning sun. An involuntary shiver raced up Ronnie's spine as heat filled her cheeks.

Shannon's eyes widened. “Wow. That good?”

There was no use denying it. She sighed. “Yeah.” The moment of impact, when their bodies collided and their hearts pounded in unison, would keep her up at night for days. Every hard muscled inch of him fitted against her, tempting her, but she wasn't interested in a one-night stand with a cowboy—was she?

Her friend nudged the silent member of their trio. “What did you think, Lenore?”

The redhead turned; she had a shell-shocked look on her face. “I can't say just yet, too much sensory overload.” Their friend paused, letting her gaze drift up toward the stage.

Ronnie looked up to where another dancer stripped down to the tiniest pair of black spandex briefs and swiveled his hips in a really good imitation of Elvis. She shook her head; although her friends had misunderstood, they definitely went all out and did
something
different.

Gaze glued to the dancer, Lenore rasped, “I think I need another Mega-Margarita.”

Ronnie exchanged a look with Shannon. Shannon's cousin had been in town for a week or so, but had apparently never been to a strip club or seen a half-naked cowboy up close before.

“Poor Lenore.” Ronnie lifted her glass in salute to the next dancer up on the stage before turning to call out, “Hey, Gwen!” When the bartender looked their way, Ronnie wiggled her glass and held up three fingers. Gwen nodded. Part of being the birthday girl meant the perk of having her glass refilled all night long. She hadn't thought to celebrate her twenty-fifth birthday at the Lucky Star, but now that she was here, she relaxed.

“Where did you say Mavis was?” Ronnie had spent enough nights here listening to Mavis Beeton expounding on the fact that if more of the uptight residents of Pleasure quit worrying about what everyone in town was doing behind closed doors and adopted her philosophy—live and let live—there wouldn't be so many pinch-faced busybodies poking their noses in where they didn't belong.

Staring up at the stage, Ronnie recalled one of the conversations she and Mavis had had recently, when Mavis had surprised her by saying that sex was just part of life; everyone needs it now and again. Ronnie remembered that when she agreed, her friend had added that those that engaged in a healthy physical relationship on a regular basis sure were a lot easier to get along with than those who'd given it up for a more cerebral pastime… like collecting thimbles. Ronnie smiled to herself; she wanted to be like Mavis when she grew up.