Trouble With a Cowboy (6 page)

A
heavy exhale blew the wispy curls off her forehead and the amused chuckle that
followed told her he knew exactly the thoughts rushing through her mind.

"Shall
we?" he asked as they stood, his palm coming to rest on her lower back.

Compatible
silence enveloped them as they made the short walk to the bar. A Garth Brooks' song
met her ear every time the door opened. The parking lot sported more makes and
models of pickup trucks than a new car dealership.

"Wow.
This place is busier than it was before we went to eat."

"I'm
not surprised. This seems to be the place to unwind around here," Tucker
replied as he reached for the door.

"True."

"Let's
see if we can find a table."

Lights
swirled and flashed, cutting a psychedelic pattern on the ceiling—almost
blinding her once they stepped inside. An elbow here or boot on her toe there, and
she wanted to deck someone as they worked their way across the bar.

"Easy,
girl," Tucker whispered next to her ear. His warm palm grasped hers as he led
her toward the dance floor.

"What
are you doing?" With a sharp tug of her arm, she stopped his forward
momentum.

A
confused frown crossed his face. "Since there aren't any tables at the
moment, I thought we'd dance."

"Asking
me might have been nice, Tucker. Maybe I don't want to dance with you."

His
eyebrow shot up and a disbelieving little grin spread across his lips. The pad
of his left thumb brushed between her eyebrows to smooth out what she figured
had to be a frown. The almost intimate gesture wasn't lost on her. "Better,"
he murmured in her ear. "Your smile is much prettier."

The
spicy scent of his cologne wrapped itself around her senses, spreading heat
through her abdomen. His neck was close enough that one small movement and she
could taste the salt of his skin. Something she had thought about several times
over the last twenty-four hours.

When
he stepped back, she couldn't help but sigh at the loss of the nearness of his
heat.

He
turned toward her as they finally reached the middle of the dance floor. His
eyes glittered with the reflection of the bar lights, and the sexy smile had
returned. He slipped his arm around her waist to pull her so close her breasts
pressed against his chest. Desire raced down her spine and her nipples pulled
tight, aching with the need to be caressed with his tongue—with his fingers.
She wanted Tucker. No bones about it. The man could set her on fire with
nothing more than a touch or a look. And his kiss? Holy hell!

Maybe I need to rethink this
business partner thing.

The
sway of their bodies to the beat of the song kept her need for him on high
idle. Being this close to Tucker gave her no room to think beyond how lips felt
against hers, how his body would feel taking her to new heights of desire and
how much she wanted him.

"What
are you thinking about?"

She
tipped her head back to stare into his eyes, letting the pools of blue
mesmerize her for a moment. Telling him where her thoughts had migrated to
would give away the need to get between the sheets with him and she wasn't sure
she wanted him to know yet. "Nothing, why?"

"You're
tense. Either you're thinking or I'm stepping on your toes," he replied
with a smile.

She
slipped her tongue over her lips to wet the dry surface while she gathered her
courage to renegotiate their deal. "All right. I was rethinking—"

"Well,
well. If it isn't the bitchy trucker and her knight in shining armor,"
Kyle spat, stopping next to them on the dance floor as the song came to an end.

The
band announced they were taking a break as the dancers began to shuffle off to
their tables, leaving her, Tucker and Kyle standing in the middle of the floor.

She
turned to face the annoying pain in the ass, gritting her teeth. "What the
hell do you want?"

"Me?
Nothin', honey. You didn't come back to the shop to get your tires. I thought
maybe your bed partner changed his mind about paying for 'em."

"If
you hadn't cut mine, I wouldn't have this problem in the first place, asswipe. And
you're just pissed because Tucker is helping me, putting a real damper on the
proposition you had planned, I’m sure. "

"It
doesn't matter, babe, 'cause I ain't gettin' them tires for you no matter how
much money lover boy throws around."

"Why
you—" One step, just one and she would be close enough to drop the
dickhead to his knees, but Tucker's hand stalled her motion by bracketing her
wrist with his hand.

"You
ride bulls, Kyle?" Tucker asked making his voice loud enough everyone
could hear.

Wondering
what he had in mind, Jacie corralled the need to stick her knee between Kyle's
legs while she waited to hear what Tucker had to say.

Kyle
glanced around nervously and narrowed his eyes into slits when his gaze
returned to Tucker. "Yeah."

"I'll
make you a deal."

"What
deal?"

"My
bull sits in the pen out behind the motel. We'll both ride him tomorrow morning.
If you stay on longer, I'll pay you ten-thousand dollars for four tires."

The
crowd around them on the dance floor went silent. Several people gasped.

"Ten-thousand?"
Kyle squeaked, rubbing his chin.

"Yes."

"Tucker,
don't. It's not worth it," she murmured, facing him. "We can figure
out something else."

"
Ssh
. Let me handle this," Tucker said as he squeezed
her fingers.

"And
if you stay on longer?" Kyle asked.

"You'll
order the tires and install them…free."

Chapter Three

Tucker
brushed his boots clean and adjusted his belt buckle as a saucy tune passed from
his lips. The plan for this morning included either putting Kyle in his place
and getting the tires needed for Jacie's truck or paying him and getting the
tires. Either way, Kyle would be over a barrel and they would have what they
needed before too long.

The
night before had ended in frustration, leaving him with another set of blue balls.
He almost hoped Jacie’s sleep had been just as restless.

He
thought he’d had her wound up enough that she’d forget about the business
partner only thing for the trip to Vegas, but apparently not. "Man, what I
wouldn't give to get between those thighs."

After
the Kyle incident, they danced close enough it would have been difficult to get
a piece of paper between them and he had made sure she could feel every inch of
his cock against her belly. He'd teased her unmercifully the whole night, but
in the end, she had gone into her room, firmly closing the door between them,
leaving him standing in the parking lot of the motel with a raging hard-on.

"I'll
wear her down, I'm sure. We would both be a lot happier on this trip if we
shared my bed instead of sleeping apart." A quick check of his reflection in
the mirror near the door, told him things were in their proper place. His two
fingers rode the brim of his hat while he tucked it down low over his brow.

Time
to get this over with. They needed those damned tires ordered one way or
another and were running out of time. The PBR World Finals started in less than
a week. If he lost the chance for his bull to get the reining title of Bull of
the Year, there would be hell to pay.

The
sun had already started to climb into the mid-morning sky as he arrived at the
motel several minutes later. A slow, soft whistle left his lips as his gaze
stopped on the crowd forming near the small arena. More people than he thought
this town held stood waiting around the pen where the bull snorted and pawed at
the dirt.

"Hey,
Tucker," Jacie said, coming up to stand beside him.

"Mornin'.
How did you sleep?"

Her
shoulder lifted in a nonchalant shrug, but he saw the tightness around her lips
and dark circles under her eyes.

Good. She must have slept badly
too.

"Okay,
I guess. I'm worried about this crazy challenge of yours, though."

"What's
wrong? Don't think I can win?"

"Hell
if I know. Do you even ride bulls?"

He
leaned close to her ear. "Every chance I get. I usually compete on the
bulls I send to the Professional Bull Riders Association rodeos. I'm not
top-ranked or anything, but I do all right."

If
he wasn't mistaken, and he usually wasn't when it came to vibes from a
beautiful woman, she wanted him just as much as he wanted her, but she wasn't
about to let him know it—if she could help it. Her breathing came out in small
little puffs of air as her heartbeat fluttered at the little spot at the base
of her neck, giving away her reaction to him even if she denied it.

Two
cowboys he remembered from the bar the night before, stepped forward to offer
to help get things ready. He’d have them watch the ride in order to make sure
neither he or the bull got hurt.

"Sure.
Thanks. I appreciate the help," Tucker said, pulling the bull rope from
his shoulder.

Apparently,
this little arena must have been where Littleton held their own rodeos during
the summer since there appeared to be a bull chute sitting in one corner.

"Kyle
show up yet?" he asked one of the cowboys standing next to him.

"Nope.
Ain't seen him."

"Wonder
if he'll even have the guts to be here," the second cowboy said, holding
out his hand. "Name's Jake."

"Tucker
Marshall," Tucker answered, grasping the cowboy’s in a firm handshake.

"
The
Tucker Marshall? Are you serious?
Tucker Marshall out of South Austin?" Jake asked as he pumped Tucker's
hand vigorously.

"Yeah,"
he replied, shooting a glance at Jacie. His last name hadn't come up in
conversation and he wondered what her reaction would be. He didn't have long to
wait as she frowned, spun on her heel, and disappeared into the crowd.

"Well,
hot damn! Nice to meet ya. You got some real hot bulls in this year's
PBR."

He
nodded toward the one in the pen. "This one is up for Bull of the Year,
but I need to get him to Vegas."

"So
you hooked up with the hot big rig driver, eh?"

Tucker
shrugged one shoulder. "She needs tires. I need a driver. Works for
us."

"It
doesn't hurt she's one gorgeous woman either. I imagine a firecracker in
bed."

"I
wouldn't know."

"You
ain't been between them thighs yet?"

"What
has gone on between me and Jacie is none of your business, cowboy. If you'll
excuse me, I need to get the bull ready," Tucker said, changing the
subject.

"Oh,
yeah, right."

It's not my fault she never asked.
Besides, it shouldn't make any difference who I am, unless she's the gold
digger type too.

Once
the bull had been readied, he watched it bang against the metal of the pen
while they waited for Kyle to show. American Bucking Bulls had become the
premiere bulls for the Professional Bull Riders Association and Tucker had
several in the circuit, but Lightning Strike had the best chance for a good
career right now. His stud fees would go through the roof if he won.

Tucker
knew he’d told Kyle ten o’clock, but it was already ten-thirty. Still no sign
of his opponent. Jacie had failed to return too. He fisted his hands on his
hips and kicked up some dust with the toe of his boot, muttering to himself. "Why
the hell did she look so pissed off?"

His
answer came from behind him. "She looked pissed off because you didn't
tell her who you were."

The
expression on her face made him pause. Her narrowed eyes and the lips thinned
into a firm line were sure-fire signs she wasn’t at all happy with him.
"You didn't ask." He reached for her hand, but she took several steps
back, folding her arms across her chest. The movement forced her breasts tight
against the front of her baggy shirt.
No
mistaking her for anything but a woman with those curves.
"Listen,
darlin'—"

"Don't
you darlin' me, Tucker Marshall. You could have hired any damned driver this
side of the Continental Divide. Why me?"

He
yanked off his hat to rake his fingers through his hair. "Because I felt
like helping you. Helping you helped my situation too. I needed a rig to pull
the trailer. You needed money for tires. I told you earlier I couldn't find a
driver who could be here in less than three days. Correct me if I'm wrong
here."

"I
don't need your charity," she spat.

"It's
not charity, Jacie, it's a business deal. I realize I never mentioned my last
name before, but does it really make that much of a difference?"

The
toe of her boot tapped an irritated rhythm and she didn't look like she would
give him an inch. "I guess it doesn't, but you should have told me. I
don't like being left in the dark."

"If
you would have asked, I'd have told you. It's not like I tried to keep it a
secret."

The
next thing he knew, people started to part in a wave. He looked over her
shoulder to see Kyle walking in their direction.

It's about damned time.

"Kyle,"
Tucker said.

"Finally,”
she said, clearly exasperated. "Can we get this crap over with, get the
tires, and get the hell out of here?"

"I'm
working on it, darlin'," he said, purposely using the little endearment.

Pink
rushed into her cheeks. He could tell she clenched her jaw by the tick
appearing and disappearing in her cheek. "We can work on your frustration
in a little while," he murmured, with a quick brush of his lips against
her ear. "Did you bring your bull rope, Kyle?" His gaze swept over
his competitor, knowing Kyle probably didn't even own one.

"Uh…no.
I'll use yours."

He
stopped in front of Kyle. "Truth here, buddy, you ever been on a
bull?"

"Yes,"
Kyle spat.

Tucker
shook his head and watched Kyle head toward the bull chute as he followed. The
guy would be lucky if he didn't get hurt or killed.

Lightning
Strike rolled his eyes and butted his horns against the metal railing. Huge,
solid white and mean as a rattler, the animal struck fear in every rider on the
circuit. The average buck off time for him was four point six two seconds, and he
carried a hundred percent buck off rate this year. Every rider knew you didn't
mess with Lightning Strike. With a horn span topping ninety inches, cowboys
watched those pointed death spears like a hawk on the trail of a rat. One wrong
move and the unlucky man would be shish kabob.

Tucker
ran his gaze over the bull to double-check placement on the gear and to make
sure his animal wouldn't be hurt by the coming events. Everything seemed to be
in order, he decided with a nod.

A
glance at Kyle revealed him standing back from the fence, running his tongue
over his lips. His face looked pasty white with a sheen of sweat on his
forehead.

The
man was scared to death. Rightly so. Even Tucker didn't like the thought of
getting on this particular bull, but he didn't have a choice. Forcing Kyle into
this agreement seemed the only way to get what they needed.

"You
ready?"

"Yeah,
damn it! Let's get this over with." Kyle's voice almost sounded like a
whine. "You goin' first or am I?"

"I
will if you'd like," Tucker answered.

"Go
ahead."

The
clang of his boots hitting the bottom rung of the gate sounded loud to his own
ears. Only hushed whispers could be heard around him as he focused all his
energy on the bull and making it out of this ride alive. A quick glance to his
left and his gaze caught Jacie's. Fear made her hazel eyes shine. Her bottom
lip disappeared between her teeth. She looked terrified, but gave him a small
smile when he blew her a kiss.

His
helpers secured the bull rope on the animal while he pulled on his riding glove
and got into position. He eased himself down, bracing for the initial jump he
knew his bull always made. The muscles of his thighs screamed in protest. It
had been a few months since he'd ridden and his body made sure he knew it. A
little over two months ago, one of the heifers had kicked him, breaking the
bone in his left lower leg. The cast had come off only three weeks ago, so he
sent up a silent prayer for a safe ride.

With
a quick nod, he gave them the signal to open the gate.

The
bull charged out, immediately spinning to the right. Tucker hung on, his left arm
whipping back and forth as Lightning Strike kicked out his hind legs, jumped
forward, and then circled to the left. When Tucker felt himself sliding, he had
no way to continue to hold on. The bull rope released with a tug of his hand right
before he jumped free with a tuck and roll in the dirt. It wasn't like they
were riding for money. He only had to stay on longer than Kyle. His ride hadn't
been eight seconds nor was it a ninety pointer, but he thought it would beat
his opponent.

Several
men from the audience worked the bull toward the shoot. The normal procedure
for the rodeo circuit would be to retire the animal for the day. They didn't
have that luxury in this case. Kyle still had to ride.

Tucker
climbed up on the rail and dropped over to the other side.

"I
don't see how men can bull ride for a living. It's crazy," Jacie said, her
eyes trailing over him as she stopped in front of him, hands on her hips, her
feet spread apart.

"Nothin'
to it."

"Whatever,
Tucker. You could have been seriously hurt. What if he would have stepped on
you? What if he turned and hooked your vest with a horn? I've seen way too many
men not walk away from a ride even under the tightly controlled conditions of
the PBR."

"Worried?"

"Yeah.
Who the hell would pay for my tires if you got killed?"

Great. Tires. It's all about the
damned tires.

"Thanks,
Jacie. I should have made sure to write you a check ahead of time so you could
still have bought the damned tires!" Frustration and anger burned in his
gut. Women were all the same. It was all about the money. "Where's
Kyle?" he snapped.

"I
don't know. He was right there by the fence until you finished your ride, but
he's not there now.”

"Anyone
seen Kyle?" he asked the spectators milling about.

An
older woman carrying a little boy on her hip said, "I saw him hightail it
out of here right after you jumped off. Always known the guy was
yellow-bellied. He talks a good talk, but he can’t walk the walk."