Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume VIII: The Cowboy Who Never Grew Up. Kimberly Raye
him he wasn’t going anywhere except into another hot shower and arched an eyebrow at his brother. “Does J.R. know his pride and joy is coming out to our place tonight?”
Wade frowned and handed Pete a blanket for DeeDee. “Probably not, but it doesn’t matter. Ginny’s almost eighteen. She can do what she wants. And James will be here.”
James was J.R.’s oldest son, Ginny’s older brother and a once-upon-a-time bull rider. Pete had trained with him way back when and they’d actually forged a friendship based on mutual respect. A fact which made J.R. hate Pete that much more.
“Besides,” Wade went on, “the sheriff might not like me now, but that’ll change. Once Ginny and I get married and have kids—”
“Wait a second,” Pete cut in. “You’re not telling me—”
“No, no. We’re not getting married now, and we sure as shootin’ ain’t having a kid. But after she graduates college and I win the PBR finals, it’ll be time. We won’t let anyone stop us then.”
“After you go to college and then win the PBR finals,” Pete added, relief washing through him.
“Ain’t that what I said?”
“No, you said Ginny was going to college and you were going to the PBR finals.”
Wade shrugged. “What difference does it make?”
“It makes all the difference in the world. I already told you, you’re not climbing onto a bull in a professional arena unless you’ve got a degree under your belt. That was our agreement. I’ll teach you everything I know while you go to school, but you’re not hitting the circuit until you graduate.”
“About that …” Wade started and Pete shook his head.
“There’s no ‘about that.’ You’re going to college, Wade. We already talked about this.”
“I’m much better with bulls than I am with calculus.”
“All the more reason to stick it out. Just because something’s tough doesn’t mean you quit.” Their mother had quit on them by drowning herself in a bottle, an example Pete never intended to follow. “We don’t quit.” He eyed his brother. “You and me, we never quit.” Not back when he’d been dirt-poor with a six-year-old depending on him, and not now that he had his own spread and a great career.
When his little brother didn’t look half as certain as Pete felt, he added, “I bet Hooker would be even more inclined to come around if his daughter was settling down with a college-educated bull rider.” Not that J.R. would ever come around as long as Wade’s last name was Gunner, but Pete didn’t want to say that. Not when Wade looked so hopeful.
“You think so?” Wade asked.
“It’s worth a shot. That is, if you really like this girl.”
“I don’t like her, Pete. I love her.” Wade said the words with such conviction that Pete almost believed him. Except that Wade was young, his hormones raging, and it was too damned easy at his age to mistake lust for love.
What’s more, Pete didn’t necessarily believe in love. Not the give-it-all-up, do-anything-and-everything-to-hold-on-to-it kind that people wrote about in books and bad country songs.
Lust?
Now that he believed in.
He pictured a certain stubborn marketing executive and his groin tightened. Okay, so maybe he was lusting after her. How could he help himself? They had chemistry. Fierce. Immediate. Inexplicable.
While he couldn’t begin to understand the pull, it was still there. Burning him up from the inside out and making him want to forget everyone and everything and take her to bed right here and now.
If only Wendy was a here-and-now kind of hookup. She’d watched her father live in the fast lane, however, and so she’d put the brakes on in her own life. She was settled now, and he wasn’t. Settling down meant slowing down in Pete’s book, and that was the last thing he ever intended to do.
Even if his aching shoulder had other ideas.
No, as much as he wanted to, he wasn’t sleeping with Wendy Darlington.
“We’ll talk about all this later,” he announced, eager to get out of his own head and forget the damned heat licking at his nerve endings. He finished covering DeeDee with the blanket and pushed to his feet. “Right now we need to get cleaned up.” He grinned and winked at his younger brother. “It’s time to party.”
5
THIS WAS CRAZY.
Wendy glanced at her watch for the umpteenth time as she paced the front porch of the massive ranch house. She’d been waiting for Pete Gunner for hours and he still hadn’t come out of the monstrous red barn sitting just beyond the corral.
And when he eventually did make it out, she had the gut feeling he wasn’t coming out with the signed contract in hand.
Which was why she’d come prepared with an extra copy.
She’d almost marched number two down there after the first hour had ticked by, but Eli had stopped her. He’d insisted she join him for breakfast in the big kitchen. Then he’d taken her on a tour of the ranch. Then he’d forced her to play dominoes. And throughout it all, he’d told her story after story of how he used to ride the rodeo circuit and how he could still rope with the best of them. And how she really ought to consider signing a more seasoned man to represent Western American.
They were parked on the porch now, watching a massive truck unload dozens of picnic tables just beyond the corral. The barbecue pits had started hours earlier and the musky scent of mesquite filled the air. A stage had been erected and the band had already started setting up. In the far distance, a John Deere front loader stacked wood into what she guessed was going to be a massive bonfire.
“Modesty aside, y’all put too much emphasis on selling stuff to these wet-behind-the-ears young ‘uns.” Eli’s voice drew her around. “Why, they ain’t got a nickel in their pocket to spend on all that expensive hoorah that you all sell. Now a man like me is a different story. I got a nice chunk in the bank, an even nicer chunk under my mattress. I can appreciate the finer things. There’s a load of folks my age who buy from Western. I’m sure the female customers would break open the piggy bank if they saw a fella like me all decked out on some big poster hanging over the cash register.” He sipped the glass of tea in his hand. “What do you think?”
“I think I’ve been waiting here long enough.” She paced the length of the porch yet again.
“Slow down there, girlie. This ain’t the big city. We like to take our time out here. Kick back. Relax. You ought to try it. It might help those two pinch lines between your eyebrows.”
She came to an abrupt stop and touched her forehead. “I don’t have pinch lines. Do I?”
“All’s I’m sayin’ is a woman your age has to be careful about stuff like that.” He shrugged. “Say, did I tell you about the time I roped this nasty sumbitch horse called Smoochey over in New Mexico?”
“Yes and can we please stop talking?” Eli grunted and she started pacing again. Two steps this way. Two steps that way. Three steps this way. Three steps that way. Her temples pounded and anxiety rushed up and down her spine. The seconds crept by.
“So where do you live?” she finally asked after several silent moments that made her even more nervous than his constant bragging.
“I thought you wanted to stop talking?”
“I changed my mind. So where do you live?”
“Nearby.”
“A neighboring ranch?”
He nodded toward the front door of the massive