Читать книгу The Cowboy Next Door - Marin Thomas - Страница 11

Chapter Two

“One more dance,” Shannon whispered in Johnny’s ear.

Once Rodriguez had left the bar, Shannon had insisted on dancing up a storm—so much for mourning his breakup with Charlene. The band had left an hour ago and now oldies but goodies played on the jukebox. “How many beers have you had tonight?” he asked.

“Three.” She wiggled closer, her hips rubbing the front of his jeans with just enough friction to start a riot behind the zipper.

He’d done an admirable job pretending she didn’t arouse him, but each song they danced to, he found it more difficult to remember that Shannon was his sister’s best friend and the boss’s daughter. Time to end the torment. He took her hand and guided her toward the exit.

“Well, damn.” The curse floated from Shannon’s mouth as soon as they stepped outside the Whiskey River Saloon.

Johnny surveyed the dark parking lot. “What’s the matter?”

“He took off with the truck.”

“Who?”

“C.J. took the truck Dynasty Boots loaned us while we’re traveling the circuit.” She teetered toward Johnny.

“Whoa.” He steadied her and escorted her to his pickup. “I’ll give you a lift home.” He was glad Rodriguez had left Shannon stranded at the bar. She was in no shape to drive and she’d have put up a stink if he’d taken the keys from her.

“Not back to the ranch,” she said when he opened the passenger-side door. “C.J. and I have rooms at the Hacienda Motel in Yuma. We’re leaving early in the morning for California.” She fumbled with the seat belt and he helped her snap the buckle into place before hopping in on the driver’s side.

The drive to the motel took fifteen minutes, and Johnny parked in the back then walked her to the room. After two failed attempts to swipe the key card in the lock, he opened the door for her and flipped on the lights. “What about your things?” he asked.

“They’re in the truck with C.J.” She sank onto the end of the bed and tugged off her boots.

Johnny checked the bathroom for boogeymen and made sure the window was locked. When he faced Shannon, she wore only a black lace bra and matching panties.

Wow. There was nothing little girl about her underwear and her body was sexy as hell—her athleticism evident in her toned arms, sinewy thighs and six-pack abs.

“You better catch some sleep,” he mumbled, averting his eyes. When he made a move for the door, she stepped in his path. Their gazes locked. Her green eyes glinted with desire as she licked her lips. The air in the room evaporated, leaving him light-headed. He’d seen Shannon lick plenty of things through the years—Popsicles, suckers and Oreo cookie cream, but never had he watched her roll her tongue across her lower lip and stare at him as if he were a big juicy steak.

She reached for his shirt and ripped the snaps open. The rush of cool air hitting his chest hardened his nipples. Then her hands fumbled with his belt as she pressed her mouth against his and kissed him.

The brush of her lips coincided with the soft bump of her lace-covered breasts against his chest, triggering a rush of testosterone through his bloodstream. He let her deepen the kiss, confident in his ability to stop her in a second...maybe a minute...maybe never.

His shirt ended up on the floor, and then her hand slipped inside his jeans. He meant to move away, but instead, he trapped her fingers against him and thrust his tongue inside her mouth. She moaned but broke off the kiss and walked to the bathroom, where she stopped in the doorway and crooked her finger.

For a split second he considered making a break for the door, but then the next thing he knew he was standing in the middle of the bathroom and Shannon was tugging his boots off and pushing his jeans down his legs. Her bra and panties joined his clothes on the floor before they stepped under the spray of warm water, made all the hotter by the heat radiating off his skin. She soaped his body, each caress driving him closer to the edge. Then it was his turn, and he made sure every inch of her was sparkling clean.

After rinsing off, they toweled each other dry and kissed their way back to the bed, where she collapsed onto the mattress and he sprawled across her.

“My wallet’s on the floor in the bathroom.” He nibbled her breast before leaving her to retrieve a condom.

When he returned, Shannon lay on the bed like a bewitching siren, her damp hair spread across the pillow, her green eyes beckoning. His last sane thought as he sheathed himself was how surreal the moment felt and that he hoped he’d never wake up from this fantasy.

* * *

JOHNNY WOKE TO the feel of Shannon snuggled against his side. He took shallow breaths and lay motionless—afraid to wake her. Afraid to confront what had just happened.

The morning sun peeked through the one-inch gap between the drapes and the air conditioner—illuminating the room enough that he could see Shannon’s face. He swallowed hard. With her eyes closed and her mouth slightly open, she looked younger than her twenty-four years.

What in the hell had he done?

He closed his eyes and silently cursed.

She’s practically your sister.

Last night Shannon hadn’t behaved like a little sister and he hadn’t behaved like a big brother. What was the matter with him? He should have been looking out for her, not taking advantage of her.

She’s too young for you.

Nine years separated them. She might be younger, but she seemed older—maybe because she’d grown up in an all-male household and had learned to be tough and independent practically from birth. If their age difference wasn’t enough to convince him to leave her alone then the fact that her father had hired him as the new foreman of the Triple D should be reason enough to keep his hands to himself.

He couldn’t afford to screw up his job with Shannon’s father. He needed the steady income to pay the mortgage on the farm until he found an agricultural company to lease the orchards. The pecan grove had been in the family four generations and losing the land would cause Johnny’s grandfather to roll over in his grave. As his mother’s firstborn, he’d experienced a special bond with his grandfather—the old man had offered a guiding hand when Johnny’s own father had wanted nothing to do with raising him. Johnny would do everything in his power to ensure the farm remained in the family.

Shannon stretched lazily against his side, her fingers caressing his groin. A shock, strong enough to jump-start his heart, raced through his body. He should grab his clothes and split, but someone had to be the grown-up this morning.

Before he talked himself into making love to her for a third time, he rolled off the mattress and escaped to the bathroom, where he took a cold shower and dressed in yesterday’s clothes. When he stepped into the bedroom, Shannon was sitting up against the headboard, the sheet tucked beneath her arms—thank God. Telling her that what they’d shared had been a mistake would be impossible if he had to stare at her naked breasts.

Shannon waited for Johnny to make eye contact. Sex with him had been amazing. She never would have guessed that she and Dixie’s brother would have hit it off in bed the way they had.

Finally he looked at her. “We need to talk about what happened,” he said.

Boy, howdy, did they. She glanced at the clock on the nightstand, then silently cursed and leaped from the bed, dragging the sheet with her. “C.J. and I have to leave in fifteen minutes,” she said, shutting the bathroom door in Johnny’s face.

She made quick use of the facilities then, realizing her clothes were in the other room, she wrapped the sheet around her and opened the door. Johnny stood by the window holding her bra and panties.

“I’m sorry, Shannon.” He grimaced. “I accept full blame—” his gaze cut to the bed “—for what happened.”

Sorry? Swell, just what every girl yearns to hear the morning after.

She snatched her lingerie from his hand. He might act like making love hadn’t been a big deal—but they both knew they’d set the sheets on fire. Even though she’d been with only three guys—Johnny being one of them—their lovemaking was unlike anything she’d experienced before, and she knew he’d enjoyed it, because he’d been pretty darn vocal.

He spun when she dropped the sheet to put on her panties. “Seems like just yesterday I was bandaging your knees and wiping your runny nose.”

“You’re nine years my senior. So what?” Obviously their age difference bothered him.

“Old enough to know better.”

“I’m decent now.”

“Like I said, I’m sorry.” Gaze glued to the tips of his boots, Johnny walked to the door. “Good luck at the rodeo. Drive safe.”

Then he was gone.

Tears burned her eyes, but she held them at bay and blamed her wishy-washy emotions on too little sleep. After she tugged on her boots, she carried the truck keys and her cell phone outside to see if C.J. had come back to the motel or spent the night somewhere else.

Johnny’s truck was gone from its parking spot—he’d wasted no time making a getaway. She shielded her eyes from the sun and scanned the rows of vehicles. There in the back sat the familiar black Dodge with the big red-and-yellow boot painted on the door. While she waited for C.J. she might as well phone her father—maybe it would take her mind off of Johnny.

Shannon cut through the lot toward the truck and punched the number 7 on her speed dial. “Hey, Dad, did I catch you at a bad time?”

“No, I’m on my way to the barn.”

Good. Short phone calls were best between them.

“I won yesterday in Gila Bend.”

“Congratulations,” he said.

As much as Shannon loved her father, just once she’d like to hear excitement in his voice when they talked about her rodeo career. She knew he didn’t believe women should ride bulls—neither did her brothers, but she’d been competing in roughstock events since high school and that’s what she knew how to do best.

“I’m getting closer to winning that title, Dad. I can almost taste it.” Her father had been a National Champion in bareback riding and both her brothers had won rodeo titles—Luke in bull riding and Matt in team roping. National titles were in the Douglas DNA and Shannon intended to earn one herself.

“You comin’ home soon?” he asked.

“C.J. and I are traveling to California, but we’ll be back at the end of the month to compete in Yuma. Maybe you can come watch me.” Silence greeted her suggestion.

What happened to the man who’d praised her when she’d been a little girl beating out the boys in all the mutton bustin’ competitions? Back then, her father hadn’t cared that she acted like a boy. Then one day she woke up with breasts and suddenly he insisted she quit rodeo.

Time to change the subject. “How are things at the ranch?”

“Might have a buyer for Cinnamon.”

After her mother had walked out on the family when Shannon was three, her father had focused his energy on growing his cutting horse operation. Now that her brothers were busy with their law practice in Yuma and she traveled the circuit all year, most of the horse training fell on his shoulders.

“Is Roger excited about retiring?” The foreman had worked at the ranch for over three decades. This past year, he’d fallen and broken his hip, requiring a hip-replacement operation. Her father had finally convinced the seventy-five-year-old man that it was time to put away the branding iron.

“You know Roger. He doesn’t have a whole lot to say,” her father said.

Maybe not, but Shannon bet the ranch hand looked forward to spending time with his sister in Florida. “Have you hired anyone to take his place?” Aside from raising cutting horses her father ran a small herd of cattle on the property—more than enough work to keep two men busy.

“Johnny Cash.”

Shannon sucked in a quiet breath. Why hadn’t Johnny told her he was the new foreman? No wonder he’d beat a hasty retreat this morning. He was probably worried how her father would react if he found out about their tryst.

“Johnny’s not starting until Roger clears his things out in a couple of weeks.”

“That’s great.”

The motel door opened and C.J. stepped outside in a pair of black boxers and white tube socks. When he spotted her, he waved.

“Gotta go, Dad.”

“Good luck in California.”

The words weren’t heartfelt, but Shannon gave her father credit for saying them. “I love you” dangled on the tip of her tongue, but instead she said, “Call you soon.” She shoved the phone into her jeans pocket.

“Who you talkin’ to?” C.J. asked.

“Nobody.” As she stared at his muscular chest and bulging biceps, an image of Johnny’s leaner athletic build flashed before her eyes. If viewing a man’s naked chest was all it took to trigger the memory of her and Johnny’s lovemaking, then she was in big trouble, because cowboys were always changing their shirts behind the chutes.

She checked the time on her cell phone. Eight o’clock. “We’ve got to be at the fairgrounds in Glendale by one-thirty.” Glendale, California, was four and a half hours away. “I’m leaving in ten minutes with or without you.” She got into the truck and started it, then adjusted the air conditioner to cool down the cab.

With less than a minute to spare, C.J. stowed his gear in the backseat. She didn’t wait for him to put on his seat belt before peeling away like a bat out of hell.

“You pissed off about Veronica?”

The buckle bunny would be history soon enough, seeing how C.J. blew through women faster than a dust devil bounced across the desert.

When she remained quiet, he said, “I’m gonna try harder to keep my love life private.” He tugged on his boots. “Maybe we should ham it up more for the fans.”

The last thing she wanted to do in public was act like an idiot over the womanizing cowboy. “Our normal routine has worked fine so far. Why mess with it?” The most she and C.J. had done in front of the cameras was hug and exchange high fives.

“I bet the fans want to see us kiss.”

Fat chance. “They’ll have to settle for fantasizing about us kissing.”

“You’re a hard woman, Shannon.”

She’d learned from the best—her father. She jacked up the volume on the radio. C.J. leaned his head against the seat, tipped his hat over his face and fell asleep.

At one in the afternoon they pulled into the rodeo grounds west of Glendale. C.J. stretched. “You ready to go down, Douglas?”

The cowboy was about to find out hell hath no fury like a pissed off cowgirl. She pocketed the truck keys then walked off with her gear. Once she signed in for her event, she went to the livestock pens to check out her draw—Dead End.

The bull appeared docile, its tail twitching at the flies buzzing near its rump. The short, muscular bull lifted his head and a shiver raced down her spine. The animal was a machine whose only purpose was to hurt cowboys.

She left the stock pens and reported to the Dynasty Boots tent, which had been set up next to the bleachers. As usual, C.J. was nowhere in sight, leaving her with the responsibility of signing autographs and shaking hands.

“Will you sign this?”

“What’s your name?” Shannon asked the little girl who wore a pink cowboy hat.

“Lizzy.”

Shannon scribbled her name across the program. “Are you a real cowgirl?”

“Yes.”

“Hurry up, Lizzy.” An older man waited a few feet away.

“You gonna ride broncs or bulls when you grow up?” She handed the program to the girl.

“Daddy says ladies don’t rodeo, but I wanna ride bulls like you.”

“Do I look like a lady, Lizzy?”

The girl nodded.

“Do I ride bulls?”

Lizzy nodded again.

“Then I guess your daddy’s wrong. Ladies do ride bulls.” Shannon winked. As the little girl walked off, Shannon called after her, “Don’t ever let anyone tell you what you can or can’t be just because you’re a girl.”

An hour later, she left the booth to prepare for her meeting with Dead End.

“Where’ve you been?” C.J. asked when she arrived in the cowboy ready area.

“Signing autographs. Where’ve you been?”

His gaze drifted to the bleachers where a blond-haired buckle bunny watched them. C.J. tipped his hat and the woman blew him a kiss.

At least he’d kept his promise and made the bimbo wait in the stands.

“Get ready to lose,” Shannon said. “I drew a better bull.”

“It’s not about the bull, baby.” His smile taunted her. “It’s all about the cow...boy.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, hold tight to your hats as we kick off our bull riding event!”

Shannon donned her Kevlar vest then put on her face mask and riding glove. She rubbed resin on the leather as rodeo helpers loaded Dead End into the chute.

“Up first this afternoon is talented cowgirl Shannon Douglas.” The fans hooted and hollered and a few waved pink posters with Shannon’s name on them.

A group of cowboys nearby stared. Most of her competitors welcomed her in the male-dominated sport, but there were a few who felt threatened by her presence.

“Shannon Douglas from Stagecoach, Arizona, is about to battle Dead End, a bull from the Kindle Ranch in Las Cruces, New Mexico. This cowgirl’s gonna have her hands full!”

Before approaching the chute, Shannon closed her eyes and pictured herself riding the bull to the buzzer, and then she imagined her dismount—a solid landing before making a break for the rails. Her sponsor didn’t care if she won, but Shannon did. She never entered the chute without believing she’d make the buzzer.

Showtime. When she straddled Dead End, the bull balked and attempted to rear so she lifted off his back.

“Looks like Dead End wants nothing to do with Shannon,” the announcer said.

The JumboTron showed a close-up of her and the bull. When Dead End became feisty again, forcing her off a second time, a collective gasp rippled through the stands. C.J. grasped her shoulder and whispered, “Thought I’d act like a concerned boyfriend.”

“Back away, C.J. You’re not helping.” She’d ridden her share of uncooperative bulls before, but something felt off about Dead End, and she worried the ride wouldn’t go the way she wanted.

Third time’s a charm. She eased onto the bull and secured her grip, then nodded to the gate man. Dead End bolted into the arena.

The first kick was powerful and thrust Shannon forward, but she hung on. Then the bull spun, and the arena became one big blur of color before her eyes. The seconds ticked off inside her head...four...five...

Dead End switched directions so quickly that Shannon didn’t have time to adjust and she fell into the well—the inside of the spin. She hit the ground hard, but sprang to her feet and raced for the rails, trusting the bullfighters to intercept Dead End if he gave chase. Helping hands grasped her arms and lifted her to safety.

“There you have it folks, Dead End won that round against Shannon Douglas. Maybe next time, cowgirl.”

Back in the cowboy ready area, C.J. said, “I’m taking the lead today.” He swatted her backside with his hat and the fans cheered as their interaction was displayed on the JumboTron.

“Folks, all-around cowboy C. J. Rodriguez is up next. As you know, he’s traveling the circuit with Shannon.” The announcer whistled. “They’re a pair of regular bull-ridin’ lovebirds.”

The audience cheered and it was all Shannon could do to keep smiling when C.J. put his arm over her shoulder and preened for the camera.