Читать книгу Come Closer, Cowboy - Debbi Rawlins - Страница 11

3

GUNNER KNEW HE shouldn’t have come tonight. It was a dick move. Yeah, he was still pissed at Mallory. But he didn’t want to screw things up for her. She probably already had first-night jitters.

“Excuse me,” she said through gritted teeth and forced him back a step at the risk of losing his toes.

Those were some heels on her black boots. They looked new. And kind of sexy. Normally she wore a low-heeled tan pair that were pretty beat-up. And the clingy red top and tight black jeans? He’d never seen them before. At the Renegade she’d worn nothing but T-shirts and faded denim. And sometimes a flannel shirt in the winter.

The guys sitting at the bar all watched her walk to the other end, their gazes lingering on her ass before taking in her long legs. It annoyed the shit out of him.

On second thought, why should he worry about making her nervous? She’d done this to herself. All she’d had to do was return just one damn call. They could’ve talked, got everything out in the open. Not that he thought there was anything to hash out. The world hadn’t ended just because they’d had sex.

And he sure as hell didn’t remember holding a gun to her head. Mallory hadn’t held back. Sure, the booze played a part, but they hadn’t drank that much. He’d done a lot of thinking on the drive to Montana. Mallory had downed three quick shots in a row, but the tequila hadn’t had time to kick in before they’d started kissing.

Okay, maybe she’d needed the liquid courage. If so, it sure had worked. She’d moaned so loud when she came he was surprised she hadn’t set off the neighborhood dogs.

Gunner watched her lean over the bar and gesture to something in the back. With her bent at that angle, the guys were more interested in looking down her V-neck top than what she was pointing at.

He had to turn away. His insides were churning and he didn’t trust himself to stay cool. If he caused a commotion, she’d never forgive him.

With more elbow grease than was necessary, he finished cleaning up his mess and let the sink fill with hot sudsy water while he poured himself a beer. Damn, he wanted something stronger. That would have to wait. After she closed, maybe they could sit down like two adults and figure this thing out.

“We have a dishwasher,” Elaine said, setting down her tray and watching him lower glasses into the steaming sink.

“It’s too small for this crowd. It’ll be okay for normal nights.”

“Obviously you’re a friend of Mallory’s,” the petite brunette said. “I’m guessing you’re from LA, but you’re not a bartender.”

“You got customers complaining about the drinks?”

“I should’ve said you don’t look like one.” Her gaze roamed his shoulders, his chest, then down to his boots. “With that tan, you must spend a lot of time outdoors. And you sure didn’t get those arms from pouring whiskey. You could be a cowboy, I suppose, but I don’t think so.” She met his eyes and laughed. “Honey, I’ve got a husband and two teenagers. I took this job to get away from them, but I still love all three of ’em to death. So don’t you worry, I’m just nosy.”

Gunner dried his hands and took another pull of his beer. “There’s a tanning salon at the gym where I work out.”

Elaine’s frown eased to a grin. “You’re just piling it on, aren’t you?”

He glanced over to see what was keeping Mallory. “Now, why would I do that?”

“Wait. You came in with Ben, so I’ll bet you’re a stuntman out there in California.”

“That’s one possibility.”

“Although...” Elaine squinted at him as if the right guess came with a thousand-dollar prize. “It sounds like you got a trace of Texas in your voice.”

Bullshit.

Gunner plunged his hands into the sudsy water—the very hot sudsy water—and bit back a curse. Hell, he’d left home at fifteen and wanted nothing to do with Texas. The dirty stinking town where he grew up was only half the size of Blackfoot Falls. So if your mom was the town tramp, everybody knew it.

A customer called for Elaine and she picked up her tray. “You’d better be nice to me,” she said, grinning. “I’m the only person standing between you and your fan club over there.”

He didn’t have to look to know which table she meant. The three women were from San Diego and staying at the Sundance Ranch. They’d been driving him nuts. He didn’t go for the hair-twirling, lip-licking crap.

That was one great thing about Mallory. She didn’t play games or work at being sexy. Of course with those big green eyes, generous mouth and killer body she didn’t have to do anything.

So why the new clothes? She had no business looking hot as hell. Was this her turning over a new leaf? Making a fresh start? Had she been trying to get away from him? All she’d had to do was tell him to get lost.

One of the Sundance women had a thing for Blake Shelton, and had “Honey Bee” on repeat. Once he got the glasses washed he was gonna unplug that damn jukebox.

“It seems we’ve died down a bit.” Mallory’s voice startled him. “There’s no reason for you to stick around. Go be with Ben and Grace.”

He drained his beer and looked at her. She was close. A couple feet away, her eyes full of uncertainty. “You look nice.”

“Thanks.” Her gaze flickered and lowered. “So do you.”

“We have to talk.”

“Please, Gunner. Not here. Please.”

“You don’t return my calls.”

“I know. But I was busy getting moved out of the Renegade and then—” She shook her head, looked away. “You’re right. I have no excuse. I should’ve talked to you.”

“Damn right you should have.” He was getting worked up again, seeing her hang her head like a whipped dog. Looking as if he’d treated her badly. She was in the wrong, not him.

“Pardon me, but could I get another rum and Coke?”

Gunner recognized the husky voice before he glanced at the flirty redhead. “Just a minute,” he said and turned back to Mallory.

She stared back at him for a second and then rolled her eyes. “Is that with a lime?” she asked the woman and grabbed the rum.

“Yes, lime, a wedge on the rim and another squeezed in the drink. And no offense, but I really like the way he makes it.”

Mallory darted him a look, the expression on her face not one he’d seen before. When she finally smiled, it didn’t fool him. She seemed sad, and he didn’t understand why.

To get rid of the redhead, he stepped in and made her drink. Mallory turned and before she could walk away, he said, “Hey, don’t run off.”

She just glanced at him as she bent to check the dishwasher. He slid the rum and Coke toward the woman and went to Mallory. He almost reached for her hand, but thought better of it. Part of him wanted to comfort her, the other part was having trouble controlling his temper.

“Why?” he asked, careful to keep his voice low. “Just tell me why.”

“Gunner...” Her head down, she opened the dishwasher. Steam poured out. He caught her arm to pull her away just as she jerked back.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I thought the heat cycle was finished.”

“Let me see,” he said, brushing the hair away from her face.

“I’m fine.” The warning tone in her voice was enough. She didn’t have to flinch from his touch.

Anger flared inside him, and then simmered to concern when he noticed the red blotch. “You have a small burn,” he said, nodding at her chin.

Her hand shot to her cheek.

“Closer to your—” Screw it. He directed her unsteady fingers to the spot. “Where’s the first-aid kit?” The one she’d kept at the Renegade had been put to good use.

“I don’t know. I’m still unpacking stuff.”

“I saw a store on the way here. I’ll go—”

Mallory shook her head. “Everything is closed by now.” She probed around the reddened skin. “It doesn’t feel bad. I’ll be okay.” Turning toward Ben and Grace, she gave them a self-conscious smile. Then she looked at Gunner again and the soft expression in her eyes told him right then and there he’d done the right thing by coming to Montana. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”

“Tell them?” His confusion took a second to clear. “Christ, give me some credit.” Shaking his head, he picked up the pile of tip money people had left him and stuffed it in Elaine’s jar on the back shelf.

“Where are you going?” Mallory almost sounded like she cared.

He knew better. “To find a friendlier bar,” he said, and almost plowed into Elaine as he headed for the door.

* * *

GUNNER HAD JUST finished his first shot of tequila when Ben entered the Watering Hole. Figured he hadn’t been far behind. The place was dead except for a pair of pool players in the back and a table of old-timers laughing at each other’s lame jokes. He wished they’d keep it down.

“Hey, Nikki,” Ben said as he took the barstool next to Gunner.

The pretty, dark-haired bartender stopped restocking the fridge and turned. “Hey yourself,” she said. “What can I get you?”

Gunner pushed his empty shot glass toward her.

“Beer for me,” Ben said, and inclined his head at Gunner. “He’s buying.”

“Sure.” Gunner snorted. “Why not? In fact, pour something for yourself, darlin’, and put it on my tab.”

Nikki glanced at him, smiled at Ben, then got his beer and Gunner’s shot.

“You might as well leave the bottle,” Gunner said when she turned to put the tequila back on the shelf.

“Nope. I don’t do that.” She leaned a hip against the back bar. “How’s Mallory holding up?”

Gunner grunted and tossed back the liquor. He felt Ben staring at him. Of course he was going to have questions. And Gunner had no idea what to tell him.

“She’s doing all right, considering she should’ve had two more waitresses working,” Ben said. “Gunner was helping make drinks until a few minutes ago.”

The bartender gave him a curious look. “I’m Nikki McAllister,” she said, leaning forward and shaking hands with him.

“Gunner.” He saw a gold wedding band on her finger.

Not that he was interested. A few months ago...yeah, he might’ve been looking to hook up. But things had shifted for him around Christmas...about the time something had changed between him and Mallory.

He couldn’t say what exactly, or why he’d suddenly noticed how her smile lit up a room. Even her laugh sounded different now. And there was something about the way she looked at him. It gave him the weirdest feeling inside...

Shit.

It was for the best she’d moved away. He didn’t need this grief. He’d liked his life just the way it was before. Thirty-two was too young for a midlife crisis. He’d find a new bar, or just follow the rest of the gang. Guaranteed they’d already adopted some dive that served cheap drinks.

Was that what he really wanted? Nothing felt right. He wasn’t into the job anymore. It had gotten so that he hated traveling.

He’d been staring at his empty shot glass for a while. When he looked up, Nikki wasn’t behind the bar. And Ben had actually shifted on his stool to face him.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Ben asked. “You’ve been distracted and edgy since you got here.”

Gunner sighed. He’d met Ben while they were filming in Mexico years ago. They’d become casual friends. Or at least they’d built enough trust between them to watch each other’s backs. “Just tired. Argentina was a bitch even before we fell behind schedule.”

“Yeah, I always hated those long stretches. Ranching has been an adjustment. Hell, I’m up well before dawn every morning. But I don’t miss it.”

Gunner leaned back to ease the kink from two days of hard driving. “I wondered if you had any regrets.”

“Nope.” Ben shook his head. “They’ve been filming around Glacier National Park and south along the Rockies. I picked up some work after I first bought the ranch. I had to sink a bundle into repairs and stock, so it made sense to bring in a little cash and keep my union benefits. But I’ve decided I’m done with stunt work,” he said, shrugging. “You know, I’ve got Grace now. I don’t like being away from her.”

Gunner never thought he’d hear those words come out of Ben Wolf’s mouth. Not that long ago Ben had had quite a reputation for going through women like he went through booze, fancy cars and speeding tickets.

“You still have a driver’s license?” Gunner asked.

“Yeah,” Ben said with a grin. “You?”

“Yep. How’s your record here? Any tickets yet?”

“How do you think I met Grace?”

Right. She was the sheriff. “She wrote you up? You couldn’t sweet-talk her out of it?”

Ben didn’t answer. Just smiled and lifted his mug.

Letting out a laugh, Gunner clapped him on the back. “Dude, you got it bad.”

Ben eyed him with raised brows.

Gunner was pretty sure he knew what was coming next. Couldn’t say he hadn’t asked for it. Though he didn’t think he’d been too obvious with Mallory.

Glancing around, he searched for Nikki, who was probably in the back. The tequila shots hadn’t done a damn thing for him. Which was just as well. Unless he wanted to end up sleeping it off in his truck, he needed to pay up and get out of here.

Ben nodded at the empty shot glass. “Might want to ease up since we drove separately.”

“Sure, Dad.”

“Suit yourself. But if you get stopped by a deputy, don’t expect Grace to cut you a break.” Ben pushed his unfinished beer away and stood. “Tomorrow I’ll show you around the Silver Spur. The place still needs work and I might’ve gotten ahead of myself drumming up business.” He turned to go but then paused. “We leave the kitchen door unlocked. You remember how to get back?”

Gunner nodded.

“Drive carefully,” he said as he headed for the door. “Lots of deer are on the roads after dark.”

Drive carefully.

Yep, Ben had changed.

Gunner tried to remember how long it had been since Ben had left Hollywood. Over a year for sure, but not all that long considering how well he’d settled into his quiet new life.

Like Ben had said, part of it was Grace. Gunner had hauled ass from California to make it in time for Mallory’s opening night. So he’d only met Grace an hour before the three of them had come to town. But he’d liked her right off. She seemed to be straightforward, had a good sense of humor and a street-smart air about her. And she was pretty.

Come to think of it, she reminded him of Mallory.

So if Ben and Grace could make a go of it...

There was a big difference. Ben and Grace didn’t share any history. The only things she knew about Ben was what he’d told her. Mallory knew everything about Gunner, warts and all as the saying went. And he had some pretty damn ugly warts in his past.