Trouble With a Cowboy

TROUBLE WITH A COWBOY

Sandy Sullivan

Erotic Romance

Secret Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

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A Secret
Cravings Publishing Book

Erotic
Romance

Trouble
With a Cowboy

Copyright
© 2013 Sandy Sullivan

E-book ISBN:
978-1-61885-569-5

First
E-book Publication: February 2013

Cover
design by
Dawné
Dominique

Edited by
Stephanie
Balistreri

Proofread
by Rene Flowers

All cover
art and logo copyright © 2013 by Secret Cravings Publishing

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED:
This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in
any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in
whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any
resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

PUBLISHER

Secret Cravings Publishing

www.secretcravingspublishing.com

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the lover of cowboys. You all know
who you are!

The
author acknowledges the trademark status and the following trademark owners mentioned
in this work of fiction.…

The Professional
Bull Riders Association

Target
Corp.

Bellagio
(resort and casino)

Snickers

Wranglers

Stetson

Apple
IPod

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, paranormal erotic romance:

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TROUBLE WITH A COWBOY

Sandy Sullivan

Copyright
© 2013

Chapter One

Bum-fuck nowhere, Oklahoma.

"What'cha
drinkin', honey?" The bartender greeted Jacie Hawkins with a flirty smile.

"Beer,
please," she said, sliding some money across to the nice looking, broad
shouldered guy behind the counter.

"Any
particular brand you're partial to?"

"Bud
is fine. In a bottle, please."

"No
problem." The man popped the cap and set the beer down in front of her.
"You ain't from here."

She
tipped the longneck to her lips, taking a deep draw, before leaning against the
bar. "How'd you guess?"

"I'd
have noticed you before, honey."

She
narrowed her eyes on the man. Yes, she wanted to find a gorgeous cowboy to sate
her lust, but this guy wasn't the one. "Is that supposed to be an
offhanded compliment?"

The
guy tipped his cowboy hat. His grin got bigger while he chewed the toothpick
hanging from the edge of his mouth. "Nothing offhanded about it,
beautiful."

"Whatever,"
she grumbled, rolling her eyes. Men were all the same. They figured a few
flowery compliments and any girl would eat out of their palm or from between
their legs inside a minute or two. Well not this girl.

Spinning
around on the barstool, she looked over the crowd while dangling the bottle of
beer between her fingers. The men outnumbered the women two to one. Every
imaginable kind of sparkle or rhinestone could be found on either the back
pockets of jeans or spelling something out across an overemphasized chest.

Her
white spaghetti strap tank top with a shear black top over it, black hip
hugging jeans, black pointed toe cowboy boots and her championship gold rodeo
buckle, completed her attire. The choice of outfit made her a cut above most of
the women in this bar. There were a few in the crowd, who looked authentic, but
very few.

Every
now and then, Jacie Margaret Hawkins broke down to become the girl beneath the
jeans, oversized shirt, baseball cap and tomboy exterior. Tonight would be that
night—in a town where she knew no one.

She
hated stopping while she hauled her horse, but the animal needed the break. The
excursion from Tennessee to Vegas had taken its toll on her mare. She needed to
give her baby a day or two to stretch her legs.

Long
days of driving were nothing new for her. Truck driving paid the bills. A woman
trucker usually caught the attention of others on the road, but no one messed
with Jacie. Her don't fuck with me attitude usually kept unwanted advances at
bay.

These women don't have a clue. Most
men don't give a damn about a wannabe cowgirl, they want the real thing.
She frowned.
Until they figure out they
can't handle the real thing
. Her focus dropped to the planks scattered with
sawdust.

Lean
hips and a bull rider belt buckle blocked her view of the multitude of cowboy
boots standing nearby. Her gaze crawled up a flat, chiseled abdomen, across
sculpted muscles, over a firm jaw to meet sexy brown eyes.

"What's
the frown for, pretty lady?"

She
tipped the bottle to her lips to take a long drink, keeping her eyes on the
gorgeous man in front of her.

Once
she'd swallowed, she said, "Contemplation."

"Huh?"

Great. Probably barely made his way
through high school.

"I
was trying to figure out how many of them," she nodded to the crowd
twirling on the dance floor, "are real."

"Real?"

"Real
cowboys or just wannabes."

Brown
eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled as he hooked his fingers behind his
belt buckle and tilted the shiny metal up. "Mine's real, sweet
thing."

"Is
it? Where did you win it?"

"National
Finals Rodeo last year. Bull ridin'."

"Is
that right?" She took another sip of her beer.

"Yeah."
The cowboy pulled his shoulders back proudly.

"You
know, that's funny. I rode last year. I sure don't remember you. What did you
say your name was?"

The
man frowned as a trickle of sweat appeared over his lip. "Kyle
Fredrick."

"Kyle…"
She tipped the bottle to her lips again. "Mmm…nope. I sure don't remember
you. You know what else?"

His
eyes narrowed as he shifted from foot to foot. "What."

"I
have an
official
belt buckle in
barrel racing." She tapped the buckle at her waist with her fingernail, and
then pointed toward his. "That's about the worst fake I've ever seen. The
real one, honey, is gold with World Champion Bull Rider on the bottom and your
name engraved just above that." She stood in front of him so they stood
toe-to-toe. "That trinket might work on one of those rhinestone babes out
there, but it won't work on me. I know the real thing when I see it."

When
the music changed, bathing the bar in silence for a moment, she heard a soft
chuckle to her left. Tipping her head, she locked gazes with the guy two stools
down. He lifted an eyebrow and tipped his hat as a crooked, half-smile graced
his mouth, showing off pearly-white teeth with a dimple in his left cheek.
Before she got a good look at the color of his eyes, the cowboy in front of her
pulled her attention back to him.

"You're
a bitch."

"I've
been called that before. You'll have to come up with something more
original…Kyle."

With
a pissed-off growl, Kyle spun on his heel, disappearing into the crowd farther
down the bar. Jacie took her seat again, propping her boot heels on the rung of
the chair and tipped the bottle to her lips. Beer slid down her throat in a
cool wash of satisfaction.

Moments
later, two-stools down cowboy moved one stool closer when the man next to her
headed for the door.

Elbows
balanced on the bar behind her as the bottle dangled from her fingers, she
glanced sideways and her gaze met the prettiest baby blues she'd ever seen. One
sweep from the top of his black Stetson and dark hair, over his broad chest and
down his yummy torso, told her a lot.
A
working man.
Dusty cowboy boots peeked out from the hem of his jeans.

"Hi,"
he offered.

"Hi,
yourself."

"Name's
Tucker." He held out his hand.
 

She
stared at his palm.
Calluses. Working
hands. Short nails. Clean.

Grasping
his hand in hers, she wasn't prepared for the zing of electricity pricking her
skin where they touched.

"Jacie."

"Nice
to meet you, Jacie."

"You,
too Tucker."

"Sorry
about that guy."

"Why?
Is he a friend of yours?"

A
short snort left his mouth. "Not in this lifetime. I'm only hopin' you
don't judge the whole lot by him."

"Nah."
She smiled and lifted the bottle to her lips again, draining the remaining beer.
"He's nothing new. I'm used to his type."

"What
type is that?"

"The
lay 'em and leave 'em kind. Once he gets between a woman's thighs, he's gone."

The
chuckle returned. "Probably right on the money."

"Occasionally,
that's not a bad thing, but tonight…not necessarily what I'm looking for."

He
leaned closer as the music started again. The spicy, almost citrusy scent of
his cologne and virile male mixed with…cattle, reached her nose.
Interesting.

"Can
I buy you another beer?" he asked, his breath rushing over the shell of
her ear.

One
shoulder lifted in a shrug. "Sure."

Signaling
for the bartender, he stood to pull some money from his front pocket, bringing
his chest into close proximity with her shoulder. The heat radiating off his
skin sent shivers skittering across her arm, and she fought the urge to rub the
flesh to calm the goose bumps.

His
tanned hand held a bottle out in front of her.

"Thanks."

"You're
welcome." He sipped from his beer, but when he lowered the bottle his eyes
found hers again. "What are you doing in Littleton, Oklahoma?"

"Hanging
out with you."

"Yeah,
right. A babe like you doesn't
hang out
in
small town honky-tonks."

She
flinched at his comment as she dropped her gaze to the front of his shirt. "Just
passin' through."

"I
see. Mysterious. Works for me." He set his beer on the bar behind her.
"Care to dance?"

Do I really want those hands on me?
Hell yeah!

"Sure."
She set her bottle next to his before they headed for the dance floor.

The
song changed to a slow ballad causing her to cringe. Slow dancing with this
gorgeous, rugged cowboy could send her right between the sheets with him in a
heartbeat. Good or bad, she wasn't sure he would be the type to easily walk
away from. When she turned, she sucked in a ragged breath before she slipped
her hands up around his neck. He settled his palms on her hips. Her heartbeat
hitched up a notch and her fingertips itched to run along the solid ridges of
his pecs—ridges that came from hard work, not a gym.

Tucker
slowly tugged her closer—close enough her breasts brushed against the
tantalizing muscles beneath his shirt. The flesh of her nipples pucker tight.

Okay, it's been way too long since
I've had a man hold me.

"You
smell nice," he whispered, his lips next to her ear.

"It's
only a dance, Tucker. Don't get any ideas."

Wait a minute. Isn't that what I
came here for? A little attention from a handsome cowboy and maybe a tumble
between the sheets, before I'm stuck in the cab of my truck with nothing for
company but my radio and my vibrator. That does sound mighty nice.

"Just
a dance."

They
swayed slowly to the music while the warmth of his hand penetrated the thin
material of her shirt, heating the skin like a branding iron.

"Problem?"
he murmured, brushing his nose into her hair.

She
cleared her throat. "No." Goose bumps pricked her skin as his breath
flittered across her neck. She fought the urge to tip her head to give him
access to the spot below her ear. Wanting to relieve some of the tense feelings
he stirred, she asked, "Do you ride?"

"Some."
He stepped back, giving her a little breathing room, but now his stare held
hers. Heat zipped straight between her thighs to her now aching clit. The throb
of need took her by surprise. Most men didn't stir this powerful desire in her and
she wondered why she reacted to this one so strongly.

Shit!

"Bulls,
horses?"

"Both,
but not often. Mostly horses." His eyes crinkled at the corners when he
smiled. The blue of his iris's sparkled in the lights swirling around the bar.
"You?"

"Horses."

"Mmm…too
bad you don't drive a big rig."

"Why's
that?"

"I
know someone looking to transport a bull to Vegas for the rodeo."

"Yeah,
too bad."

The
music came to an end and she reluctantly stepped out of his embrace.

"You'll
have to excuse me. I need to use the little cowgirl's room."

"Of
course."

Sweat
trickled down her spine.
Lord, it's hot
in here.
She glanced at Tucker one last time, noticing how his gaze slid
enticingly down her frame before returning to her face.
Okay, maybe it's the heat directed at me from him, but holy hell, I'm
likin' it.

After
a quick inhale, she headed for the restroom.

The
door marked women stood partially open. The loud laughter of several females
met her ear as she stepped inside. Bright florescent lighting glared and she
had to squint to focus until her vision adjusted. Talk around her centered on
the cowboys hanging out nearby.

"That
Kyle. He's got one heavy hand," said the blonde standing near the sink.

"I
don't know why you let him hit you. He's an ass," replied the petite
brunette next to her.

"Because
he's good in bed," the first one answered.

Jacie
snorted.
Yeah, I don't think so. There
isn't a man alive who would dare hit me. I'd kill him first.

Once
she completed her business, she made her way out toward the bar to find Tucker
in her chair.

"Um…you've
got my seat."

"Well,
someone took mine, so you'll have to sit on my knee."

She
lifted an eyebrow, placed her hand on her hip and shook her head. "I don't
think so there slugger."