True Blue Cowboy (The Cash Brothers) (5 page)

“How’d you end up in Arizona?”

“After earning a Master’s in finance I received a job offer from Biker and Donavan Investments. They had an opening in their Yuma branch. The starting salary was very competitive and with student loans hovering over my head, I took the position.” For the most part she hadn’t regretted it. She’d lived frugally and had paid off her school debt in record time. Then she’d met Brad, and after they’d married he was promoted to five-o’clock sports anchor and before she realized it, Yuma had become home.

“What about your family?”

“I’m an only child. My parents still live in San Diego. My father is a retired airline pilot and they travel now.”

“I can’t imagine growing up an only child.”

She didn’t want to talk about herself. “Besides the brothers you mentioned earlier tonight, do you have any sisters?”

“One. Dixie. All of us were raised by our grandparents.” He took off his hat and set it on his knee. “The men who fathered me and my brothers wanted nothing to do with us, and my mother came and went on the farm as she pleased. None of us kids were close to her. She died before our grandparents passed away.”

“Do you like being part of a big family?”

“I don’t know any different. You get used to all the chaos that comes with seven kids trying to coexist in a house with one bathroom.”

The noise level inside their home must have been impressive.

“Grandma Ada used to threaten to spank our backsides with her big cooking spoon if we didn’t stop tearing the house apart.” He leaned forward in the chair. “Was it tough growing up an only child?”

“Not really.” Her standard answer whenever anyone asked her.

“You know what they say about only children, don’t you?” he asked.

“What’s that?”

“They end up having a whole passel of kids.”

She smiled, but deep inside the old, familiar ache tugged at her.

“I’ve got one niece, five nephews and my sister-in-law is due to give birth to twin girls the first week in February.”

“What are the ages of your niece and nephews?”

“Johnny’s daughter, Addy, is only four months old. And Will’s son, Ryan, is almost fifteen.”

“Fifteen?”

“Will got the girl he took to the prom pregnant his senior year of high school, but she never told him that she’d kept their baby.”

“How awful.”

“Things turned out okay for them. They got married and they’re living in Stagecoach. Buck’s wife, Destiny, had a baby boy named Cody last week. Dixie and her husband, Gavin, have a son named Nathan. He’s three. Conway’s twin sons turn seven this spring.”

There was obvious affection in Mack’s voice when he spoke about his siblings and their children—more proof that she and Mack weren’t meant to have had anything more than a fling.

“I think I’ll retire now.” She stood and waited for Mack to move—his chair blocked her exit from the porch.

Rather than give her room, he reached for Beth. She saw his arms coming and could have dodged them but she had no shame where this man was concerned. He cupped her face and lowered his mouth. Suddenly, she’d lost track of all the reasons they shouldn’t kiss.

Mack’s mouth locked on to her lips and a delicious tingle spread through her limbs. The tingles turned into shivers when his tongue asked for entrance. Shame on her, but she gave in—without a fight—opening to his thrusting tongue. Her body had a mind of its own, swaying forward until her breasts pressed against his chest. She felt the pounding of his heart through his shirt—was it her imagination or did their hearts beat as one until he pulled away?

His finger traced the moisture left behind on her lips. “There’s a rodeo next Saturday in Rattlesnake. How would you like to come watch me?”

Head foggy from his kiss she mumbled, “Where’s Rattlesnake?”

“East of Tucson.”

“I’ve never been to a rodeo.”

“Then it’s about time you experience ‘the bulls, the blood, the dust and the mud.’”

She rolled her eyes. “I don’t listen to country music that often but I recognize a Garth Brooks song.”

“You’ll fit right in at the rodeo.” Mack disappeared into the darkness, leaving Beth wishing she’d fit right into his life.

She pressed her fingertips to swollen lips. Mack had kissed her, all right, but it was all wrong.

Chapter Four

“Ladies and gents, welcome to the seventeenth annual Rattlesnake Rodeo in Rattlesnake, Arizona!”

Fans sitting on the bleachers stomped their boots, the din reverberated through the air. Mack motioned for Beth to precede him up the steps to their seats. They’d arrived at the outdoor arena late due to an accident on the highway, and they’d missed the barrel-racing event.

Gear bag over his shoulder, he followed behind Beth, the swish-sway of her tush hypnotizing him.
Friends. You’re just friends.
He’d repeated the mantra in his head often since they’d left the dude ranch. Why was it so difficult for him to let go of that night with Beth? Obviously, she’d put it behind her.

He remembered lying in the dark, her warm breath puffing against the side of his neck as she snuggled with him. What if they’d met under different circumstances? Would she have given him a second look if she hadn’t been celebrating her divorce?

Once they located their seats, he leaned close. “I’ll give you a tour of the cowboy ready area after the roughstock events.” The smell of her perfume—an earthy mix of flowers—drifted past his nose and he closed his eyes. She’d worn the same scent the night at the bar and when he’d caught a whiff of it, his heart had beaten faster. His blood had pumped a little harder. And a certain part of his anatomy had grown hard. He mentally cursed. This wasn’t the place to become aroused.

“When do you compete?” she asked.

He checked his cell phone. “In an hour.”

“And what event did you say you were in?”

Beth knew nothing about rodeo and he found her ignorance refreshing. “Saddle bronc.” He’d considered entering the bull-riding event but had chickened out when he’d read the list of bulls—three of the six had nasty reputations. He didn’t like the fifty-fifty odds of drawing one of them, so he’d parked his signature on the saddle-bronc list. Besides, today was all about impressing Beth, not falling flat on his face in front of her.

He motioned to the arena. “The bareback competition is next. Saddle bronc is the same thing except we use a special saddle.”

“Where are the rodeo clowns?”

Mack pointed at the men wearing colorful clothes, standing in the cowboy ready area. “They’re called bullfighters now. Most of them are retired from rodeo, but don’t let their age fool you. They’re in better shape than half the cowboys.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, are you ready for the bareback competition?”
The announcer’s voice boomed over the loudspeakers, and applause and whistles filled the air.
“Be sure to check out the white tent in the parking lot where the Rattlesnake Medical Clinic is giving away free samples of their namesake to those who donate their money or their blood.”

“Have you ever eaten rattlesnake?” Mack asked.

“No.” Beth wrinkled her nose. “Have you?”

“Yep. Before we leave today, we’ll stop by the tent and you can try it.”

Her expression turned thoughtful. “Are you donating blood?”

“After I ride.”

Beth eyed him suspiciously. “Are you saying that to impress me?”

“I donate blood every year.” That he’d impressed Beth proved how different she was from other women he’d dated.

You’re not dating Beth
.

He didn’t need the reminder.

“Turn your eyes to chute number three. Ricky Payson is coming out on Pretty Boy Floyd—a world-class bucker and NFR champion.”

Mack pointed to the chute. “Ricky’s good. He’ll nail this ride.”

Beth inched forward in her seat, eyes glued to the cowboy and horse. The gate opened and the bronc jumped forward, kicking out with his back legs before clearing the chute. With each buck, Ricky’s backside flew into the air.

Mack quit watching the bronc and focused on Beth’s pale face. When the buzzer went off, Ricky vaulted through the air and came down on all fours. He got to his feet and scrambled for the rails as the pickup men cornered the bronc. They released the cinch then the horse peacefully trotted out of the arena.

“It’s a whole different world,” Beth said.

“What’s that?”

“Rodeo.”

“Like I mentioned the other night...‘it’s the bulls, the blood, the dust and the mud.’”

She nudged him playfully and the contact sent an electrical current racing through his chest straight down to his crotch. He closed his eyes and an image of Beth’s naked body on top of him materialized.

“Mack?”

“What?”

“The horse’s movements looked so violent. Does it hurt?”

“Yes.”

Her smile faded. “Then why do you do it?”

“I like challenges.” Mack wasn’t as hardcore as some of his fellow contenders, but like any cowboy, he enjoyed pitting his skills against a green bronc and seeing who came out on top. Even if his score wasn’t good enough to win, if he made it to the buzzer then he claimed victory. “I’d better get going. Do you want to stay here or come with me?”

“Am I allowed behind the chutes?”

“Sure.” He took his bag then her hand and led the way out of the stands. He kept a tight grip on her fingers as they weaved through the crowd. Was it common for male-female friends to hold hands? Hell if he knew. His friends had always been guys and the girls had always been...well, girls. Women he’d slept with, dated or chased after.

They stopped behind the chutes where gear bags and cowboys were scattered about. Some of the contenders stood off by themselves, mentally preparing for their rides, while others put on their protective gear and wrapped their wrists, ankles and knees with elastic bandages.

“Well, well, well.”

Mack released Beth’s hand when he came face-to-face with southern Arizona’s rodeo Romeo. “Rodriguez.”

The cowboy’s attention drifted to Beth, and his smile widened as his gaze roamed up and down her body. “You got a new fan,
Merle?
”

Mack’s spine stiffened. He didn’t know if he was pissed off Rodriguez was baiting him or angry that Beth smiled back at the bad boy of rodeo.

“C.J. Rodriguez. Beth Richards. C.J. mostly rides bulls.”

Beth held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, C.J.”

“She’s not your usual type.” Rodriguez smiled at Beth. “I don’t recall seeing you on the circuit.”

“This is my first rodeo,” Beth said.

“If you’re not a rodeo fan, mind if I ask what is it you do?” Rodriguez asked.

“I’m a financial adviser.”

“You don’t say.” Rodriguez glanced at Mack. “You must have won the lottery if you’re using Beth’s services ’cause you sure haven’t won a rodeo in a long while.” He snickered at his own joke.

Mack refused to be drawn into a verbal sparring match and encourage the braggart.

“When I claim the national title in Vegas next December—” Rodriquez grinned at Beth “—I’ll hire you to manage my winnings.”

“If the rest of the year goes anything like the past month,” Mack said, “I doubt you’ll be headlining at the Thomas & Mack Center this coming December.”

“You’ve gone downhill since you started singing with your band. Can’t recall when I last saw your name in the top ten.”

“I’m not making a living at rodeo, am I?” Mack said.

Rodriguez jutted his chin. “Maybe if we’d all been born with stupid names like Merle Haggard we’d be able to sing our way to the bank.”

Beth stiffened next to Mack. This conversation was over, but he couldn’t resist one more taunt. “You keep running off at the mouth and I’ll make sure you’re too sore to sit a bull.”

“Out of all the Cash brothers—” Rodriguez stepped closer “—you were the one who always threw the first punch.”

The nuisance wanted to make a fool out of Mack then swoop in and steal Beth—just to prove he could.
Over my dead body.

“Back off, Rodriguez.”

“Does she know about your fighting days?” Rodriguez nodded to Beth. “Merle Haggard, here, spent more than a few nights in jail for brawling.”

On four occasions his brothers had had to bail him out—the bull rider made it sound like Mack had lived half his life behind bars.

“You’re more like your namesake than you want to believe except you haven’t landed in San Quentin yet.”

Don’t do it, man
.
Don’t take the first swing.

Whatever Rodriguez had been about to say was cut off when Beth lifted her leg and kicked Rodriquez in the belly. The cowboy’s eyes widened then the air in his chest burst from his mouth in a loud grunt and he clutched his midsection.

Mack gaped at Beth when a quiet hush spread through the cowboy ready area.

“I forgot to mention that I’m not only an investment counselor, but I’m a certified kickboxing instructor.”

Hot damn.
There was a lot more to Beth than he realized. “You still want to egg me on, Rodriguez?” Mack asked.

The bull rider winced as he straightened up. “No.”

Mack escorted Beth farther down the row of chutes, noting the cowboys scrambled out of the way as they passed by. “You were something else back there.”

“I hate bullies.” She frowned. “What are you smiling at?”

“I’ve never had a girl stand up for me before.”

She dropped her gaze. “Did I embarrass you?”

“Darlin’, you didn’t embarrass me.” He whispered in her ear. “You have no idea how sexy you are...all fired up and ready to rumble.” He touched his cheek to hers and felt her shiver. There was nothing friendly about the chemistry between them, and they were fooling nobody by believing they could be friends.

“Mack, is it true that you’ve gone to jail?”

He wasn’t proud of his trips to the slammer. “The charges never stuck.”

“When was the last time you took a ride in a squad car?”

“Four years ago when I was twenty-five.”

“You’re only twenty-nine?”

The surprise in her voice confused him. “How old are you?”

Her chin jutted. “Thirty-one.” The line between her eyebrows deepened. “Why didn’t the charges ever stick?” she asked.

He set his hand against her lower back and guided her over to a chute where rodeo workers were loading a bronc. He dropped his gear bag, took Beth by the shoulders and looked her in the eye. “The charges didn’t stick because I had witnesses who backed up my story. I always try to walk away from a fight, but sometimes the crowd blocks off your escape and you’re left with no choice but to fight your way out of a bar.” When Beth continued to watch him with wary eyes, he lowered his voice. “You’re not afraid of me, are you?”

“No. But I’ve never known a man who isn’t afraid to settle a dispute with his hands.”

“Don’t tell me your husband never got into a fight.”

“Are you kidding?” She snorted. “His face is too valuable to mess up.”

What the hell kind of man had Beth married? Any guy who put more stock in his face than his honor was a dweeb.

The announcer introduced the final bareback contestant, which meant Mack had better focus on his own ride and impressing Beth. He removed his saddle from the bag. “I blame my mother. She burdened me with a name that amuses people. After a while the jokes get old.”

“I understand.” Her soulful brown eyes spoke the truth.

“I’m coming out of this chute. If you stand over there—” he pointed several feet away “—you’ll have a better view of the action.”

“Sure.” She hesitated, shoving her hands into her jeans pockets. The action drew her shirt against her chest, showing the subtle outline of her breasts—breasts that he’d enjoyed.

“Good luck.” Beth spun, but Mack caught her arm.

“What about my good-luck kiss?” He held his breath, waiting to see if she’d comply. She didn’t disappoint him. She rose on tiptoe but when he attempted to meet her mouth halfway, she turned her head and his kiss landed on her cheek.

“Don’t fall off your horse, cowboy.”

Mack was as determined to make it to eight as he was to collect a proper kiss from Beth before the day ended.

* * *

B
ETH
STOOD
IN
the shadows watching Mack prepare for his ride—noticing his stony expression and matter-of-fact movements as he put on his spurs and riding glove. If not for his casual glances in her direction she’d almost believe he’d forgotten she existed.

“Ladies and gents, we’re ready for the saddle-bronc event!”
The announcer’s voice thundered over the loudspeaker above her head.

“Folks, in order to score well, the cowboy must spur the whole eight seconds. This event is as close to rodeo ballet as you’ll ever get. The cowboy and horse will score highest if they perform together in a smooth, rhythmic ride.”

Mack slipped on a protective vest, and Beth breathed a sigh of relief that he wasn’t as crazy as some of the cowboys who wore nothing but colorful shirts to protect themselves from a kick to the chest.

“First out of the gate this afternoon is Mack Cash.”

The applause that echoed throughout the arena stunned Beth.

The announcer’s jovial guffaw added to the noise.
“Sounds as if we have a few Cowboy Rebels fans here today.”
A second wave of deafening noise filled the arena.
“For those of you who don’t know...Mack Cash is the lead singer of the band Cowboy Rebels.”

“I love you, Mack!” A buckle bunny stood in the stands holding a sign with a pink heart painted on it.

Jealousy pricked Beth. She shoved the stinging sensation aside, but not before she shocked herself by admitting she was jealous of the younger woman. During her short marriage to Brad, never once had she felt envious of women who’d ogled him or stopped him on the street for his autograph.

She had a one-night stand with Mack, and had expected nothing to come of it—so it was crazy that she didn’t care for other women lusting after him.

“Cash has his work cut out for him,”
the announcer said.
“He’s drawn Widow Maker and this bucker spins faster than an F-5 tornado!”

That didn’t sound reassuring.

“As with all the events today, for every cowboy who makes it to the buzzer, the First Community Bank is donating a hundred dollars to the medical clinic. Ten cowboys have made the list. Let’s see if Cash is gonna be number eleven.”