Cowboy Country (3 page)

"I'm thinkin' I like both scenarios," she whispered.

"Back to your place?"

"Sounds like a plan to me."

"Let me hit the restroom first and we'll blow this joint."

"I'll meet you outside. I need to cool off."

"Babe, hot is your middle name."

"Such a charmer, Tucker," she said before she kissed him on the cheek. "I’ll see you in a minute."

He tipped his hat as he headed for the bathroom. When she'd disappeared earlier, he'd checked his wallet realizing he'd forgotten to stock it with a condom or two, but he knew the bathrooms in these places usually had plenty.

A couple of bucks and a turn of the wrist gave them both the protection needed.

With a happy tune on his lips, he headed for the double doors leading outside. The cold November air hit his face like tiny needles pricking his skin as a chill zipped down his spine.
Holy shit, it's still pretty cool out here.
He glanced around but didn't see Jacie.
Well, where did she go?

Raised voices met his ear as he strained to hear over the loud music filtering from inside the club.

The distinctively female tone had apprehension running down his back, urging him to hurry in the direction of the side of the bar, especially when he heard, "Get your fucking hands off me, Kyle, before your nuts end up in your throat."

"Get your hands off her, buddy, before I break your damned neck," Tucker growled as he slid to a stop behind the other man and wrapped one arm around Kyle's throat.

"Easy man," Kyle said, grabbing Tucker's arm, trying to relieve the pressure on his neck. "I only wanted to get acquainted with the lady."

"She's with me, asshole. She already told you inside, she knows a real cowboy when she sees one and you ain't it. I suggest you find yourself one of those buckle bunnies in the bar and leave Jacie alone," he said, pushing Kyle toward the doors.

"You'll pay for this. Both of you," Kyle grumbled, but kept on moving.

"Are you all right?" Tucker asked, worried he hadn't been in time and Kyle had actually hurt her.

"I'm okay," she said, her voice soft, almost unsure—not at all like the spunky woman he'd spent the last few hours with. She picked at a torn spot on her sleeve.

Tucker put one finger under her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Why don't you sit down on the steps there for a minute? I'm sure you're shaken up a bit."

"Thanks," she whispered.

Her whole body trembled from her ordeal. He tried to help calm her by running his hands up and down her arms. "How about we get a cup of coffee, huh? I know an all-night diner in town. They make some pretty good pie too."

Her palms ran down her arms. "I don't think so, Tucker. I'm sorry, but I should be getting back to my room. I've got an early morning tomorrow. Being accosted by a drunk, overbearing asshole, kind of ruined the mood."

"I'm sorry too. Is your car parked around here?"

"I walked."

"Let me at least escort you to your motel. I wouldn't put it past Joe Slugger there to try something."

Her bottom lip disappeared between her teeth while she contemplated his offer.
She could be thinking I'm just as big of an asshole as Kyle.
In an attempt to reassure her, he said, "Only a ride to the motel, Jacie. I promise."

"Okay. Thanks. It's kind of cold out here."

"It is November. You never know about the weather this time of year."

He pulled out his cell to call a cab. It sucked being somewhere without transportation, but right now he didn't have any himself after the disaster his own situation had become. Tucker Marshall was always in control, always had his finger on the pulse of the cattle business and always had the number one bull on the PBR circuit. Sitting in Littleton, Oklahoma trying to find a big rig driver to get his prize bull to the National Finals Rodeo didn't sit well with him at all.

Several minutes later, the cab pulled up. He held open the door for her while she slid inside and he took the seat next to her.

"The Little Motel, please," she said, giving the driver directions.

"Sounds like a charming place."

"Yeah, if you like dive motels, hard beds and thin curtains, it's just dandy, but it's all I could afford for tonight. I needed to give my mare a break from the road."

"Been driving for awhile?"

Her lips lifted in a small smile. "You could say so. Tennessee to Nevada is a long haul."

"Where are you headed to in Nevada?" As the trust in her eyes disappeared, he kicked himself mentally for the change in her openness with him. "Never mind. It's nothing more than small talk."

The cab stopped in front of the motel and he asked the man to wait while he walked her to the door.

"Thanks for the lift, Tucker."

"You're welcome. I guess I'll see you around."

"Probably not. I'm leaving in the morning."

"True. It was nice spending a few hours with you anyway. I haven't had a chance to spend some downtime with a woman, just dancing and shooting pool, in a long time."

The little smile on her lips made him want to kiss her. "Maybe you should try to relax more."

A small chuckle left his mouth as he shook his head. "I suppose." Her lips pressed into a thin line as she dropped her gaze to the ground at their feet. "Can I kiss you goodnight?"

Her eyes met his and she smiled again—a full one this time—one that lit up her entire face. "Sure."

One small step brought him up in front of her. He let his fingers slip into the hair near her ear and slide behind her head to pull her closer. The feel of her lips called to him. The need to taste her overwhelmed his senses. Lust swept down his spine, ratcheting up his desire to bursting proportions and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it now except be satisfied with the taste of her mouth.

Her eyes drifted closed as her lips parted when he brought their mouths within a hairsbreadth apart. A growl rumbled low in his throat as their mouths touched. All thought disappeared, except the softness of her lips and the feel of her pressed against him.

Tongues explored. Need spiraled. Fingers touched.

God, I need her—need this.

A honk behind them brought him out of the fog of desire. "I guess my driver is getting impatient."

"Yeah," she whispered.

"Goodnight."

"Night."

CHAPTER TWO

"You have got to be fucking kidding me!" Jacie yelled, kicking the flat tire on her rig. "I so do not need this!" Grumbling under her breath while she walked, she continued around the other side noticing the rest. In all total, four of her tires were cut in a circular pattern from one lug nut to another, piercing the rubber wall, making them impossible to repair. "Some asshole cut my damned tires!"

She tipped her head back on her shoulders and fought the urge to throw something. Tempers ran hot in her family and this situation would be no different.

I'm already in a pissy-ass mood. I am totally sexually frustrated after the kiss from Tucker and a sleepless night dreaming about all the things I'd like to do to his body. Now I'm stuck in the middle of Oklahoma with barely enough cash to get me to Vegas for gas and four blown tires that costs over three-hundred bucks apiece.

"Son of a bitch, I don't need this."

A huge, wet raindrop hit her face.

"Great. It's going to fucking rain now."

The sky opened up and rain started pelting her face as she headed for the diner next door. The place had a few patrons, but she didn't pay any attention to them making her way toward the booth in the corner for some privacy.

I need to call Mom and Dad. God, I hate asking them for anything.

The waitress wandered over to take her order of coffee. Once she had the cup in front of her, she retrieved her cell phone to dial her parent's number.

"Jacie Margaret Hawkins. What kind of trouble have you gotten yourself into this time, young lady?" her mother asked, sarcasm clear in her voice.

The thought of asking her parents for money soured her stomach. She hated it. Her parents thought she would never amount to anything. They didn't like her driving big rigs and spending all her time dressed more like a man than the young woman she was raised to be.

"Hi, Mom."

"Spill it."

A heavy sigh rushed from her lips. "I need money."

"Why?"

"Someone cut the tires on my rig."

"Where are you?"

"Littleton, Oklahoma."

"What are you doing in the middle of Oklahoma?"

"I had to stop to let Brandy rest. She couldn't stay in the trailer anymore without a break."

"And?"

"I got a room here. When I came outside this morning to get back on the road headed for Vegas, I found four of my tires cut."

Jacie could hear her father's voice in the background.

"She's stuck in Oklahoma."

"Well you know what? She needs to figure this out."

"What are you saying, father?" She heard her mother say.

"She needs money, right?"

"Yes."

"We aren't giving her any."

"What?" Jacie said, apprehension and disbelief making her skin prick with goose bumps. "You can't be serious. Mom? Come on. I'm stuck here. I don't have twelve hundred dollars to get tires for my rig."

Her father must have grabbed the phone because the next thing she heard was his voice. "I'm sorry honey, but you are twenty-eight years old. It's time you grow up and figure things out. Don't bother calling your brothers or sisters because I will call them myself in a few minutes."

"Dad, please? You really aren't going to stick me in the middle of bum-fuck Oklahoma are you?"

"Yes, honey, we are. You are a resourceful young lady. I'm sure you'll figure out something."

The phone went dead.

"They hung up on me," she whispered, holding the phone away from her face, staring at it. Her parents were turning their backs on her. Anger and disbelief zipped through her. She snapped the phone shut with a decisive click and pressed it to her forehead. "I do
not
believe this."
There is nothing in this town. How in the hell am I going to get twelve hundred bucks to get tires? Plus, they probably have to order the damned things. They might have one or two, but they sure as hell won't have four. That means at least a few more days in the motel, meals and feed for Brandy.

"Maybe I can work something out with the mechanic," she said, dropping some money on the table and heading for the door.

Moments later, she stood at the big bay doors at the only eighteen-wheeler truck repair shop in Littleton, Oklahoma.

"Hello? Anyone here?" she yelled, waiting a moment for a response.

"Back here," someone shouted.

Following the sound of the voice, she made her way to the rear of the shop. A pair of dirty boots, and worn jeans with the cuffs frayed stuck out from under the frame of a car.

"I need some tires."

Legs became hips, hips became a chest and the chest became a knowing smirk of the last person she really wanted to deal with first thing this morning.
Oh fuck! Kyle?

"I bet you do."

"Son of a bitch," she growled.

"You know what, honey, I can't help you. You see, I just don't have your size."

Her vision narrowed as she stepped closer, slamming her hands on her hips in irritation. "You don't even know what size I need."

"Sure I do. And I bet you need four, right?"

"You fucking ass—" He wasn’t even trying to hide what he’d done.

Another voice interrupted her words as she heard someone call from the front of the shop. "Can I get some help up here? I need to ask a question."

"Why don't you hang tight there, sweetheart. I'm sure we can work out some kind of arrangement." Kyle gave her a wink before he walked away.

Anger so strong it made her shake, rushed down her body and had her balling her hands into fists. She would bet her last dollar, she knew what kind of arrangement he had in mind. It would be a cold day in Hell, before she let the likes of him touch her.

She headed to the front, intent on figuring some way out of this predicament. As she neared the counter, she saw the man who must have called out. Nice Wranglers lay taut over his backside and across his lean hips. Black cowboy boots graced feet set wide apart in his apparently irritated stance. His fingers tapped a staccato on the counter while he waited. A western long-sleeved shirt pulled tight over his back muscles and a stark, black Stetson sat perched on his head.

"Well, well, if it isn't Mister Know-It-All from the bar. What can I do for you,
sir
?" Kyle growled.

"Kyle. Nice to see you again," the man replied.

 Jacie tipped her head to get a glimpse of his face. The voice sounded awfully familiar. "Tucker?"

"Jacie?" A startled gaze raked her from the top of her baseball cap, over her loose fitting shirt and dirty jeans to the boots on her feet. "What are you doing here? Why are you dressed like that?"

A quick glance at her clothing revealed nothing out of the ordinary to her. "This is how I always dress when I'm working."

"Working? You work here? I thought you said you weren't from Littleton?"

"I'm not. I needed something from the shop, but I didn't realize
Kyle
was the proprietor. I guess I'll have to go elsewhere for what I need."

"Good luck with that one, Jacie. My shop is the only one in town."

The smirky, half smile on his lips pissed her off even more.

"I'll rot in hell in this podunk hole in the wall before I even listen to a proposition from you. I'm not willing to barter for the tires I need, asswipe," she snarled at Kyle. Tucker stood with his arms crossed over his tempting chest and a small smile lifting the corners of his lips. "Nice to see you again, Tucker, but I've got something I need to take care of." Without waiting for a reply, she spun on her heels and headed across the parking lot toward her truck, grumbling and cussing with each step. "Goddamn, son of a bitch, fucking asshole. The devil will be dancing on the polar icecaps before I do anything to—"