True Blue Cowboy (The Cash Brothers) (8 page)

“I’m not sure I want that kind of fun,” she said.

“If we don’t like it, there’s a Best Western in town.”

“That sounds better.”

For the second time that day he reached across the seat and grasped her hand. “You’ve been a good sport. This cattle stuff must be boring as hell.”

“Not really.” She could get used to Mack reaching for her. Her ex hadn’t been a
toucher
—he’d blamed it on his German blood but now she knew better. Brad hadn’t been in love with her.

“You’ll like the Tepee’s Geronimo burger. It’s spicy like you.”

She snorted. “No one’s ever accused me of being spicy.”
Only dependable, quiet and polite.

The drive to the truck stop took twenty-five minutes. When they arrived, the parking lot was crammed with media vehicles and state highway patrol cars.

“Let’s find out what happened,” Mack said.

Beth didn’t unsnap her seat belt.

“What’s the matter?”

She swallowed hard, her eyes riveted on the Channel 3 vehicles. No way would she be able to sneak inside the restaurant without running into a reporter. Thank God Brad anchored the sports desk; at least she knew he wouldn’t be here. And neither would her old boss, because she’d delivered a baby boy two days ago. Beth had seen the Facebook post. “Let’s find a different place to eat.”

“And miss out on a Geronimo burger?” He nodded to the trucks. “Aren’t you the least bit curious about all this?”

Not really.

Mack got out then skirted the hood and opened her door. As he guided her through the throng of reporters, she focused on her shoes rather than the action in the parking lot.

“Beth? Beth Richards, is that you?”

Mack held up, leaving her no choice but to stop, too. Pasting a fake smile on her face she spoke to the reporter. “Hello, Ramona.” Hoping to cut the woman off at the pass, she asked, “What’s going on?”

The question took a few seconds to sink into Ra-mona’s head, because the reporter was too busy gawking at Mack. Ramona was four years younger than Beth and with the help of plastic surgeons, the blonde was a knockout. “There’s a roadblock a few miles up the highway. A gunman robbed the Savings and Loan in Prescott yesterday, and he was spotted in the area a couple of hours ago. They think he might be holed up in an abandoned cabin near here.”

“Is the teller okay?” Beth asked.

Ramona nodded. “The robber got away with two hundred thousand dollars.” Ramona’s gaze latched on to Mack. “Looks like both you and Brad moved on pretty fast.”

“Mack, this is Ramona Simmons. Ramona, this is Mack Cash.”

“Nice name. Sounds country music-ish.”

Mack flashed his pearly whites. “Nice to meet you.”

“We’re in a hurry.” Beth made a move to step past Ramona but she blocked her escape.

“For what it’s worth, I didn’t know they’d hooked up until a few months afterward.”

Beth’s face flamed. This was not a conversation she wanted to have in front of Mack.

“And I’m sorry about the baby. Until Brad told everyone, I had no idea you couldn’t—”

“We really need to get going.” Beth tugged Mack’s arm.

Ramona walked beside them. “Anyway, it looks like you rebounded just fine.”

“Good luck with the story.” Beth made a dash for the restaurant entrance, Mack’s boot heels clunking against the asphalt behind her. A second later his arm came into view when he reached in front of her and opened the door.

She skidded to a halt inside.
Damn
. She squared off with the news anchor. She didn’t like the man—not since she’d overheard him joking at the company picnic that Brad was an idiot for marrying her when he could have gotten a woman
way prettier
than she was.

“This is a surprise.” The jerk offered his hand to Mack. “Tim Wetzel. Channel 3 news anchor.”

“Mack Cash.”

Tim glanced between her and Mack. “You two aren’t...”

Beth wanted to cry when Mack set his hand against her waist and inched closer. “Aren’t what?” he asked.

“I guess I can tell Brad that you’re doing a lot better than he thinks.” Tim chuckled. “He said you’d gone off the deep end and quit your job.”

No way would she stand here and listen to this idiot talk her down. “Good luck with the story.” She entered the restaurant and seated herself at a booth next to the windows. Mack slid onto the bench across from her, then a waitress named Peg delivered glasses of water to the table.

“Can I get you anything else to drink while you look over the menus?”

“I’ll have coffee, please,” Beth said.

“Make that two.”

Once Peg left them alone, Beth rubbed a burn mark that marred the Formica tabletop.

“I’m sorry we ran into these folks,” Mack said.

“It’s not your fault.” She peeked up at him. His brown eyes were filled with compassion and questions.

“Beth.”

“What?”

“How do all these people know your ex-husband?”

Did you think you could keep Brad’s identity a secret forever?

No, but she’d hoped that while she was with Mack she could pretend her ex didn’t exist.

“Brad Stevens is...was my husband.”

“The sports anchor for Channel 3?”

She nodded.

“He’s good. I watch his sportscast every night.”

“Apparently, he’s good at a lot of things.” Like sleeping with her boss.

“What was that woman referring to when she said she’d heard about the baby? What baby is she talking about?”

“Brad got my boss pregnant.”

Mack’s eyes rounded.

Peg rescued Beth from having to say more when she brought their coffee. “Ready to order?”

“We’ve changed our minds about eating.” Mack left a ten-dollar bill next to his mug then scooted from the booth and offered his hand to Beth. “Let’s get out of here.”

Clutching his fingers as if they were a lifeline, they left through a side door and made it to the pickup undetected by the news team. A few seconds later, they left the truck stop, the silence in the cab suffocating.

Chapter Seven

Mack gripped the steering wheel, wishing his fingers were squeezing the news anchor’s neck. Who did the guy think he was, speaking to Beth that way? Mack had known Beth’s husband had cheated on her—but with her boss? That was low. No wonder she’d quit her job.

He glanced across the seat. Beth stared straight ahead—probably not seeing a damn thing out the windshield.

“You can stop worrying,” she said.

“About what?”

She looked at him, her pretty brown eyes clouded with pain. “That I’m going to lose it. Fall apart. Become hysterical.”

“You did that already?”

“That’s what the night at the Number 10 was all about.”

He didn’t believe her. Beth was an investment adviser. She calculated numbers. A person like her pondered, gathered facts and analyzed data for eons before reaching a conclusion or, in her case, reacting to an event. He’d bet his Gibson guitar that she hadn’t yet come to grips with her husband’s betrayal.

He wasn’t in any position to dole out advice, but maybe he could take her mind off running into the TV crew. Besides, with the highway blocked indefinitely, the best place to find a decent motel room for the night was in Prescott. “I know where we’re going.”

“Where?”

“The Bird Cage Saloon.” At her frown he asked, “Have you ever heard of the famous Whiskey Row in Prescott?”

“No.”

“During the 1800s the street was lined with bars from one end to the other. A fire destroyed the block in 1900 but they rebuilt it exactly, using brick, and it’s become a tourist attraction. My band’s played at the Bird Cage.”

“Why are we going to a bar?”

“Because you need to let loose.” He held his breath, wondering if she’d agree to his plan.

“Okay, I’m game.”

Relief swept through Mack. Tonight would be a do-over of their first meeting, only it would end differently—he’d wake up in the morning with Beth in his arms.

They reached Prescott at dusk and he parked in front of the saloon. When they entered the Bird Cage a band Mack wasn’t familiar with played on stage. He guided Beth to a booth in the corner.

“Mack, it’s good to see you.”

“Hey, Stella.” He motioned to Beth. “This is a friend of mine, Beth Richards. Beth, Stella and her brother Stan own the place.”

After the women exchanged greetings, Stella asked, “How come the Cowboy Rebels aren’t on our summer schedule?”

“Andy’s hanging out with his family more.” And after meeting Beth, Mack was certain that he wanted to be with her on his days off from the ranch.

“You’re always welcome to drop by and sing a few songs whenever you want.” Stella nodded to Beth. “What would you like to drink, honey?”

“Red wine—” She waved a hand in the air. “Make that a margarita, please.” She winked at Mack. “You said I need to let loose.”

“Frozen or on the rocks?” Stella asked.

“On the rocks.”

“Mack?”

“I’ll take my usual.”

After Stella walked off, Beth asked, “What’s your usual?”

“Blue Moon.”

“A beer is hardly adventurous.”

“Wait until later.” He kissed her neck. “I’ll show you how adventurous I can be.” When he gazed into Beth’s eyes, he felt that familiar tug in his gut. Yeah, he was attracted to her and wanted to make love to her, but the pulling sensation inside him wasn’t the result of a surge of testosterone. Beth was the first woman he was comfortable...relaxed...content with. He couldn’t remember ever feeling like this before.

“Here you go.” Stella placed the drinks on the table. “Are you ordering off the menu?”

Beth nudged him in the side with her elbow, breaking the trance Mack had been under. “I’m sorry.” He glanced at Stella. “What did you say?”

“That’s interesting. I’ve never seen you this smitten with a woman. Be back in a few minutes to take your order.”

“What are you smiling at?” Beth asked.

“Stella’s right.” He tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I’m smitten.”

Beth snorted.

He handed her the margarita, then clanked his beer bottle against the rim of her glass. “Here’s to wherever this leads.” He hoped to heck the journey was a long one, because he was in no hurry to say goodbye to Beth.

“Ooh, this is good!” She swallowed a second gulp.

“Better than your usual?”

“I like red wine. It’s healthy for you.”

“You’re too young to worry about your health.”

She drained her margarita glass, and Mack signaled Stella to bring her a second then leaned closer. God, she smelled good. “Have I mentioned I like that you’re a couple of years older than me?”

“It’s rude to bring up a lady’s age.”

“That whole wisdom-comes-with-age thing turns me on.” He kissed the soft patch of skin below her ear then licked the tiny spot with his tongue. “Older means wiser, better, more experienced—”

“I’m none of those things.”

Stella showed up with round two. “Doesn’t appear you’re ready to order.”

“I’ll wave you down when we decide,” Mack said.

Stella went to talk to the band, who’d taken a break. A quarter found its way into the jukebox and an old Merle Haggard song filled the bar. Mack stood. “Dance with me?”

There it was again—that flicker of doubt in her eyes. After a moment’s hesitation she put her hand in his and he led her onto the floor. He pulled her close and held her hand against his heart. They swayed to the music and Beth relaxed in his arms. He hoped it was
him
and not the alcohol lowering her guard.

“Mack?”

He rubbed his cheek against hers. “What?”

“Why do men cheat?”

He held her tighter—wishing he could shield her from hurt. “Men cheat because they’re assholes.”

Her fingers played with his shirt button. “Are you including yourself in that category?”

“I’m no saint, and I’ve done a few stupid things in my life that probably made Grandma Ada spin in her grave.” He looked Beth in the eye. “But I’ve never cheated on a woman.”

A sigh escaped her mouth, the puff of air buffeting his neck in a gentle caress. The need to kiss her overwhelmed him, and he lowered his head—

“Is that you, Mack Cash?”

Startled, he glanced up. “Steve Bulldog Bennigan.” Keeping one hand against Beth’s lower back he greeted his former rodeo partner.

Steve eyed Beth. “Hello, darlin’.” He glanced at Mack. “I see your taste in women has improved.”

“This is Beth Richards. Beth, Steve Bennigan. We traveled the circuit together for a few years.”

Steve grasped Beth’s hand and kissed her knuckles. She seemed reluctant to pull her hand free from his grip.

The door opened and another cowboy entered the bar. “Hey, Blake.” Steve waved the man over. “Look who I ran into.”

Blake removed his hat and offered Mack his hand, his eyes straying to Beth. “Ma’am.”

“This is Mack’s girlfriend, Beth Richards,” Steve said.

“Nice to meet you.” Blake spoke to Mack. “Are you and the band playing tonight?”

“’Fraid not. Beth and I are here on business.”

“You in a hurry or do you have time for a game of poker?” Steve asked.

“Go ahead and play cards with your friends, Mack.” Beth smiled. “It’s been a long day. I think I’ll say good-night.”

The hell she would. He snagged her arm before she took a step. “Thanks, guys, but—”

“Beth,” Steve said, “do you know how to play poker?”

“Of course.”

Mack gaped at her. “You do?”

“My grandfather taught me to play when I visited him at the retirement home.”

Well, shoot.
What else didn’t he know about his
friend?

“I’m in,” she said then walked off to retrieve her margarita glass.

What happened to
It’s been a long day?

“She’s not your usual date,” Blake said.

Steve landed a playful punch on Mack’s shoulder. “She doesn’t have big hair, and she doesn’t wear hooker makeup or rhinestones.”

You should have seen her when we met
.

“I like her,” Steve said. “And she can play poker. She’ll fit right in with your brothers.”

Good thing most of his poker-playing brothers were married.

Blake waved at Stella and asked for a deck of cards, then he and Steve ordered beers and they took their seats at a table across from the bar. Once Beth joined them, Steve dealt the first hand.

After a few minutes, Blake said, “I call.”

Everyone laid their hands down then Mack gaped at Beth’s full house.

“You weren’t kidding.” Steve spoke to Beth. “You do know how to play.”

“If I have my way, gentlemen, you won’t go home with any change in your pockets tonight.” Beth offered Steve another smile, and Mack tamped down the urge to end the card game. Steve was a nice guy, and it was obvious that Beth found him entertaining.

An hour passed, and the bar grew crowded. Stella delivered a fourth round of drinks. The alcohol had relaxed Beth, and she giggled at Steve’s jokes way too much for Mack’s liking.

It was Blake’s turn to deal and one of the cards flew off the table. When Beth leaned over to pick it up, she lost her balance and the chair slid out from beneath her, propelling her across Steve’s lap.

“Well, happy birthday to me!” Steve helped Beth to her feet.

Everyone had had enough to drink. “It’s been a long day, Beth. Would you like to leave?”

“Stay,” Steve said. “I want a chance to win back my money.”

“Actually,” Beth said, retrieving her purse from the back of the chair. “I will call it a night.”

“It was fun catching up with you guys.” Mack waved at Stella. “I’ll settle my tab tomorrow before we leave town.” Taking Beth’s hand, he led her out of the bar and into the cool night air. “Let’s see if the St. Michael has a room.”

The historic hotel sat at the end of the block across from the courthouse park. The lobby was empty when they entered, save for the young girl standing behind the check-in desk.

“May I help you?”

“We’d like a room.” Mack pulled his wallet from his pocket and removed a credit card.

“How many nights?”

“Just one.”

Beth rapped her knuckles on the counter. “Two beds.” She winked at Mack. “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

Beth must be tipsier than he’d thought. The desk clerk’s mouth quivered as she entered the credit information into the computer then handed Mack a pair of key cards. “Your room is on the second floor.”

They took the elevator ride in silence. After he let Beth into the room, he said, “Lock the door after me.”

“Why?”

“I’m going to move the pickup to the hotel parking lot and get our bags.”

“Mack.”

“What?”

“I mean it. I’m not going to take advantage of you.”

Their gazes clashed and he wished he could figure out what message her dark eyes were sending him. “I know.” He left, wondering if he had a chance in hell of salvaging the night.

* * *

Y
OU
’
RE
AN
IDIOT
.

Beth sat on the bed in the hotel room. She had no idea what had gotten into her tonight—flirting with Mack’s friends during the poker game. Both Steve and Blake were great guys and yes their interest in her—especially Steve’s—had soothed her battered ego. Steve was an average-looking guy and since she was an average-looking girl, it was easier to believe his flattery was more sincere than Mack’s. There was still a part of Beth that feared Mack saw her as a challenge. Like her ex, Mack was handsome enough to get any woman he wanted. Why he’d set his sights on her was a mystery.

Her growling stomach propelled her off the bed. She perused the room-service menu then ordered steaks, baked potatoes and broccoli for both her and Mack. Forgetting that she didn’t have her overnight bag, she retreated to the bathroom and took a shower. She stood beneath the hot spray, hoping the warm steam would clear her head.

She’d told Mack nothing was going to happen between them tonight, yet she yearned to make love with him and pretend for a few hours that they were a perfect match. But she knew in her heart she wasn’t the right woman for him, and it was only a matter of time before he came to the same conclusion.

The bathroom door creaked open and she froze. Would he try to join her in the shower? She held her breath, waiting for his hand to pull back the curtain. Instead, the door closed, and disappointment sent a cold shiver through her. She shut off the shower, dried herself then stepped from the tub and spotted her overnight bag on the floor. Why did Mack have to be so thoughtful?

She dressed in her lounge pants and long-sleeve cotton shirt then applied a dab of moisturizer to her face and neck before pinning up her wet hair with a clip. She checked her image in the mirror and couldn’t remember what the Beth at the Number 10 Saloon looked like anymore. When she left the bathroom, she found Mack pacing in front of the window. “What’s the matter?”

“Nothing.” He frowned at her outfit. “I thought we’d go out for a bite to eat.”

“I ordered room service. I hope you don’t mind.” As if on cue, a knock sounded.

“I’ll get it.” Mack opened the door. A young man wheeled the cart inside and the scent of grilled steak wafted through the air. “Thank you.” Mack handed the waiter a tip then locked up behind him.

Beth cleared the travel brochures off the table and Mack pushed the cart closer. “Smells good,” he said.

Together they set out the food then sat down. Neither spoke. Surprisingly, the steak was better than Beth expected—or maybe she was so hungry anything would taste good. Mack on the other hand toyed with his meat.

“Is it too well-done?”

“No.” He pushed his broccoli into a pile.

“You don’t like broccoli?”

He stabbed his fork into the foil-wrapped potato then scooted his chair back and stood. “You want to know what’s wrong?”

She set her utensil down.

“There.” He pointed his finger at her.

“There what?”

“Your attitude.”

She gaped. “My attitude?”

“The way you’re acting right now.”

“I don’t understand.”

“When we’re together, you’re formal, polite and reserved. But tonight playing cards with Steve and Blake you were—” he waved his arm in the air “—funny, sweet and charming. You joked and laughed with them.” Mack’s pupils grew until his brown eyes appeared black.