Chasin' Eight: Rough Riders, Book 12 (18 page)

When Ava leaned across the table, Chase could see so far down her shirt he swore he caught a glimpse of nipple.

“I haven’t had sex in four months, Chase. I didn’t realize how much I missed something until I haven’t had it. It’s like my brain is on a continual loop—imagining rough hands stroking my skin, craving sweet and lazy kisses, or hot and hard kisses, needing an intense body-to-body connection.”

“What exactly are you tryin’ to do to me here?” he half-growled, hating—and loving—that she’d put such graphic images in his head.

“What? We’re friends. I’m sharing my frustrations with you.” Ava blinked innocently. “Oh wow. Sorry. For a second I forgot that you are captain of the USS Abstinence… Well, anyway, your lack-of-sex situation is self-imposed, mine is not. And I don’t think I should have to suffer for your choice.”

The food arrived. Chase watched Ava devour every bite, and tried to ignore the happy little humming moans that reminded him of sex.

Hell, everything about her made him think of sex.

Ava shoved aside her empty plate. “You’re right. It’ll be fun to hang out at the bar for a little while.”

Yippee. He was such an idiot. Now he’d spend the rest of the night watching her entice the local yokels.

“Excuse me?”

They both glanced at the young woman at the end of the table. “This might sound strange, but me’n my friends we were wondering if you are…”

Chase braced himself. Here it was. He should’ve known better than to show up in public place, even a rural dive, with the radiant Ava Cooper.

“Sure, I’d be happy to take your picture,” Ava said pulling Chase from his worrisome thoughts. “Isn’t it great that her friends took her out to celebrate her birthday?” Ava prompted Chase.

Hugely relieved, he offered the birthday girl a genuine smile. “While you’re taking pics, I’ll pay the bill.” Grabbing the check, he stood and tossed a ten on the table for a tip.

Ava rose from the table. Even with the two inches his dress boots added to his height, Ava towered over him by five inches. She bent forward slightly and put her mouth by his ear. “Fess up, cowboy. You were worried one of us had been recognized.”

Her hot breath sent a tingle straight to his dick. Resisting temptation of turning his head and pressing a kiss at the base of her neck, he sidestepped her. “See ya over there.”

Chase secured a high-topped table in the middle of the room with both the bar and the dance floor in view. One thing he’d noticed over the years; patrons in small town bars were a diverse mix of people. Old-timers mingled with the younger set. No one was trying to act hip, cool or aloof. Or wear trendy clothes, although single ladies had done themselves up in tight clothes and rhinestones for a night on the town.

He purposely sought out places like this, as a reminder real cowboy country existed. Where small town values, hard work and integrity were as prized as a college degree. Where boots, jeans and hats were worn for both everyday and formal attire. Where no one looked at you funny for ordering cheap beer because most folks were on a budget. Where your neighbor would make sure you got home safely if you imbibed a little too much.

Would Ava see that? Understand it? Find it quaint? Or rural?

Ava slid next to him with a husky, “Hi.”

“Hey. What would you like to drink?”

“I don’t know. I’ll wander up to the bar and see what they’ve got.”

He lifted a brow. “You sure you’re goin’ to the bar to look for a…drink?”

“Yes. But it wouldn’t hurt to check out my other options.”

“Ain’t a lot of options. It’s a slow night.”

“So you’ve been screening me for me?” she asked doubtfully.

“A guy checking out other guys in a joint like this will get your ass thrown outta here faster than you can say ‘Brokeback’, trust me.”

Ava laughed.

He loved to hear her laugh. So sweetly melodic and yet completely unaffected.

The cocktail waitress stopped and Ava conferred with her in low tones before she ordered.

“What’d you decide on?”

A secretive smile bloomed and then she focused her attention elsewhere. “See that guy in the red plaid shirt? To your left? What do you think of him?”

“Him? Seriously? He’s too old for you.” Chase let his gaze wander, acting like he was playing along with the find-Ava-a-fuck-buddy game, when in all likelihood, he’d fuck up any man who laid a hand on her. “What about the dude in the bright blue shirt?”

“Eww. He’s got a ZZ Top beard. And I think there’s food in it.”

“You don’t like beards?”

“Only on Abraham Lincoln, Van Gogh and the aforementioned little ’ol band from Texas.”

“You coulda told me you hate the goatee I’m growin’,” he said a little shortly.

She reached over and tenderly stroked the bristly hair. “I didn’t say that. I like it. Your lips are perfectly framed and look so kissable. I wondered if it’d be soft or scratchy.”

Chase didn’t move. Hell, he didn’t breathe as her fingers repeatedly smoothed over his face, his whole face, not just the part with excess hair.

“I can’t believe how much it’s filled in. God. How many times a day do you have to shave?”

“When I’m on tour? Usually twice. Can’t stand how razor stubble feels on my face.”

“I’d like to feel your razor stubble on my face,” she murmured.

Maybe she hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

Or maybe she had.

The cocktail waitress floated a napkin on the table and placed a lowball glass in the center. “Took the bartender a minute to figure out how to make this.” She grinned. “Don’t get a lot of requests for that drink in here.”

When Ava opened her purse to pay, Chase put his hand over hers. He pulled money from his front shirt pocket and dropped it on the tray.

Ava didn’t speak until the waitress left. “I can buy my own drinks, Chase.”

“I know you can. You can also open your own door and pay for your supper, but that ain’t happening tonight, so deal with it.”

Surprisingly, she didn’t argue. She took a healthy sip of her drink and said, “Wow. That’s good.”

“What is it?”

“Tie me to the bed and fuck me.”

Chase choked on his beer. Choked hard enough Ava had to pat him on the back. “What the hell did you just ask me to do to you?”

“I didn’t ask you to do anything to me, because I knew you’d say no. The name of my drink is called
Tie me to the bed and fuck me
.”

His eyes narrowed. “Bullshit.”

She held up her hand in Scout’s honor pose. “It was the drink du jour at my friend Bella’s bachelorette party. And if you don’t believe me, ask the waitress.”

Right. Ava just wanted to hear him say that drink name out loud. In a honky-tonk bar. Not a chance.

They watched the dancers for three songs. Ava leaned closer. “See that older couple with matching blue shirts?” He nodded. “How long you think they’ve been together?”

“Probably their whole adult lives. Why?”

She released a wistful sigh. “They’re beautiful. So in tune with each other. I can’t imagine what it’d be like to have that solid connection every day. I wish I had my video camera so I could capture their happiness.”

Maybe Ava did understand more than he credited her.

“By the way, when are you planning to teach me to two-step?”

“I’m not.”

“Do you dance?”

“Yep.”

She frowned. “But you don’t want to dance with me?”

“Drop it, Ava.”

Of course she didn’t. “I’ll only put up with so much high-handed behavior, and you’re pissing me off. Answer the question. Why don’t you want to dance with me?”

“Because I’m short,” he snapped.

About twenty seconds passed before she was in his face. “That’s it?
That’s
your reason for not dancing with me? Here’s where I tell you that is not a valid reason. That’s a sucky reason.”

“It’s a valid reason to
me
. Christ, Ava, you’re a good three inches taller than me when you’re not wearing them three-inch fuck-me heels. I will not make a goddamn spectacle of myself with you towering over me like I’m some kinda midget, getting my jollies burying my face in your chest, no matter how much the latter appeals to me.” Dammit. Not a good time to spout that confession. “You wanna talk about drawing attention to us? Trust me, that’d do it.”

“Chase. I didn’t mean—”

“You’re gorgeous and perfect and a California goddess, okay? You never have to deal with the ‘less than’ issues the rest of us mere mortals do.”

“That’s not fair.”

He drank, refusing to get sucked into this with her.

“So if I wore flats and you wore the heeled boots you’ve got on now? Then would you dance with me?”

“Why you all fired up to dance with me, Hollywood?”

Ava opened her mouth. Closed it. “I like to dance. Dancing with my girlfriends at the clubs in LA isn’t like close dancing with a man. I just thought it might be fun. Guess I was wrong.” And she was gone.

Way to be a dickhead.

As Chase was formulating charming apologies, a female voice said, “Hey, I know you.”

The woman was probably mid-thirties. Teased and sprayed blonde hair. Heavy glittery makeup. A low-cut tight T-shirt that outlined hard nipples. His first thought? She was a clone. Interchangeable with ninety percent of the women he’d been with in the last decade. Heck, he might’ve actually been with her. And didn’t that make him the worst kind of man-whore? Chase shook his head. “Sorry. You’ve confused me with someone else.”

Her mouth, thickly coated with frosty pink lipstick, curved into a smile and she rested her tits on the table. “I know my rodeo cowboys. Bull riders are my specialty. Even a hottie like you can’t hide out in Pine Bluff, Wyoming without expecting fans to recognize you. You’re Chase McKay.”

Dammit. Chase took a drink to wet his suddenly dry mouth.

“Don’t worry, lover, your secret is safe with me.”

“What secret?” Ava cooed, possessively sliding her hand across his shoulders. “Sorry I was gone so long, baby. What’d I miss?”

He grinned at hearing Ava’s precisely mimicked honey-smooth Southern drawl. “Nothin’. A case of mistaken identity.”

“I am not mistaken,” the woman retorted. “You are Chase McKay, the PBR bull rider, right?”

Ava tittered, “Oh, honey, I wish he was. This is just my boring old Bill. Who is such a Mr. Grumpy Pants tonight.”

Mr. Grumpy Pants? What the fuck?

Tipping his hat back slightly, Ava kissed him four times, each kiss a little longer. “We’ve only got the sitter for another hour, Billy boy. What do you say we head out to the truck? I know what’ll put a smile on my baby daddy’s face.”

The woman said, “Sorry, my mistake,” and hustled away.

Ava’s eyes lit with triumph. “If you want to pull this off, we’d better go right now. And for Godsake, act like you can’t wait to get me naked and fuck me.”

Chastised and yet turned on, Chase stood, keeping Ava’s arm draped over his shoulder. Gritting his teeth against the stares about their height differences, he curled his arm around her waist and directed her outside.

After he’d climbed inside the truck cab, Ava said, “Are you still a Mr. Grumpy Pants?”

He groaned. “Christ. Seriously? Did you have to call me Mr. Grumpy Pants?”

“I had to set the scene. Besides, it worked, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, one good thing came from her flashing her tits at you and me running interference to protect your virtue.”

“What’s that?”

“It kept me from asking you if the big chip on your shoulder about being a short man weighs you down when you’re riding a bull as much as it does the rest of the time.”

Ouch. Direct hit.

“Then again, I might’ve just said ‘thank you for a great dinner’ and left you to brood while I trolled the excellent selection of Wrangler butts. Not that I got to do that either, since I was too busy saving you from yet another one of your adoring female fans.”

“Look, I’m sorry—”

“Save it.” Ava yawned and turned away, giving him the cold shoulder he deserved.

Chapter Thirteen

Ava had a great time with Chase last night at the supper club despite his refusal to dance with her. It hadn’t occurred to her the outwardly confident bull rider would be self-conscious of his height, or lack thereof. She loomed over many of the men she worked with. And Chase was so damn good-looking, so muscular, so charming, he seemed larger than life.

Probably a smart call on his part, keeping them from being plastered body to body as they swayed on the dance floor. Ava had behaved herself, following his friendly lead, even playing along when he’d started picking out potential conquests for her. But it quickly became apparent that no man in the joint held a candle to Chase McKay. It also became apparent that women who wanted the eye-catching cowboy were not cowed by the fact Chase was out with her. No wonder he could bed a different woman every night if the ladies constantly subjected him to come-ons. What red-blooded man wouldn’t take every kinky thing that was freely offered?

Except he’s not taking anything from you after you’ve offered. Several times. In several ways.

Like she needed that reminder. She was no different from any other woman; she regularly suffered from self-confidence issues, body issues, dating issues. People assumed that since she had a high profile career and a supposedly glamorous life she’d have hordes of men vying for her company. But the opposite held true; she rarely got asked out on a date. Maybe invites to dinner weren’t issued because men were afraid she’d turn them down flatly and cruelly. Maybe men assumed she’d already have exciting plans with other celebrities. Maybe men were scared off by her bank account. Maybe men thought she was stupid because she hadn’t finished college. Maybe men associated her with the man-eating character she played on TV. Maybe her real personality was too weird. Maybe her real personality was too abrasive. Or worse, maybe she didn’t have a personality at all.

Wow. Insecure much?

Problem was… once those self-doubts surfaced, they multiplied. Maybe men were leery of becoming tabloid fodder if they publicly dated her. Maybe men were sick of big-boobed blondes. Maybe she should lose ten pounds, buy a whole new slutty wardrobe and then she’d have men falling at her feet.