Rodeo King (Dustin Lovers Book 1) (3 page)

“Ha. Not a newcomer, Jamison, a
returnee.” He pushed away his empty plate and signaled for another beer. “Can I
buy you a drink?”

“Nah. Thanks. I’m waiting for my
girl.” He shot Caleb a knowing look. “She’s gonna meet me here for dinner.” He
took a vibrating iPhone out of his pocket and glanced at the screen. “And, she
just pulled in.”

Dave looked up as the door opened.
“Hi, darlin’. Just saying hello to an old friend of yours.”

Caleb took a swig of beer and
turned to stare directly into Rosemary Carmichael’s stormy amber eyes.

Rosemary’s stomach fluttered with
awareness when she spotted Caleb sitting at the bar with Dave
.
The
memory of their time together still burned bright in her mind. The pain of his
desertion was just as fresh today as it’d been all those years ago.

Why couldn’t he have just stayed
away?

Caleb turned toward her with a hard
stare. A fresh wave of anger rolled through her, instantly smothering her hurt and
leaving only steam behind. He had no right to be angry with her. He was the
jackass.

She was so over Caleb Johnson! Been
there. Done that.

Didn’t need the heartache again.

She snorted. Hell, her life was a
damn country song. Squaring her shoulders, Rosemary marched inside and up to
Dave, wrapping her arms around his waist and lifting her face for a kiss.

Dave grinned, his eyes gleaming
with amusement, because their relationship so far was more friends than lovers,
and he’d only kissed her once. He’d understand her brazen display was for
Caleb’s benefit. But being the gentleman he was, Dave didn’t let her down. He
threaded his fingers through her hair and leaned in, giving her a deep kiss.

But just like the other time he’d
kissed her, she felt nothing. Not even a tiny sensual quiver. Zilch. Instead,
Caleb’s image floated behind her eyelids.

God! I’m in serious trouble.

She thought of Carson, her little
angel, and was able to rein in her betraying emotions. There was no way she’d
allow Caleb to crush her son’s tender heart into the dirt on his way back out
of town.

The sound of a heavy thud broke the
kiss, and she glanced up to see Caleb glowering at them, beer foaming over his
longneck bottle and running across his tightly gripped knuckles.

Her feeling of satisfaction was
quickly followed by guilt. She’d never been the vindictive sort, and she
shouldn’t care whether Caleb was jealous or not. They had no future, only a sad
history.

Caleb wasn’t a keeper. He’d never
stay. She needed to protect Carson from the same kind of heartache she’d
suffered when she’d awoken alone, abandoned . . . pregnant. Every tender
promise he’d made, a lie. All damn lies.

“So, Caleb,” Dave asked, “how long
are you in town for?” He tucked her close to his side.

“Don’t know. Depends.” Steel
threaded his voice as he turned away from them. “Mikey, another Bud.”

“Be right there,” Mikey called over
his shoulder as he served two fruity-looking concoctions to a couple of young
women at the end of the bar.

“Well. Um,” Rosemary stammered as
the air sizzled with awkward, uncomfortable tension. “I guess we should get a
table.”

“I already have one picked out,
darlin’.”

With his arm still around her waist
and a smirk on his lips, Dave steered her toward the dining area. He led her to
a corner table and held out her chair so she could sit, then leaned down and
nuzzled her neck, before taking a seat across from her.

She groaned under her breath when
she saw she had a direct view of the bar, and Caleb. His brooding gaze rested
on her as he picked up his beer and took a long draw.
Not. Good
. She’d
known him most of her life, and his body posture indicated he was seriously
pissed off.

Irritated, Rosemary turned her
attention to Dave.

He stared back with a wide-eyed
innocent expression. “What?”

“You were baiting him.”

A grin split his face. “Yeah. Isn’t
that what you wanted?”

Was it?

She shook her head in silent
denial. Caleb wasn’t worth the emotion it’d take to rile him up. She’d already
spent too many years crying over him. He meant nothing to her now.

That’s not fair and you know it.
She stifled a sigh. No, it wasn’t fair.

There’d been times, before she and
Caleb ever hooked up, that he’d listened to her woes and offered a shoulder,
advice; hell, just an open ear. When her mama was driving her nuts or her daddy
got itchy and they all wondered if he’d make it through another weekend without
bolting. She’d vent and Caleb would display a lot of patience for a guy
willingly dealing with an idiot teenage girl.

She shook herself from the memories
when Adrianne stopped by and took their orders. Neither she nor Dave needed a
menu; Rosemary had eaten here often enough to know exactly what she wanted. She
shot a quick glance toward Caleb, noting the two women from the end of the bar
had sidled up next to him. Her mouth tightened, the momentary softening she’d
felt toward him fading fast.

He seemed quite content to have
those bimbos fawn over him. Something ugly rose up inside her and for a second
or two she wanted to rush over and pull out their bottle-blonde hair. Rosemary forced
her attention back to Dave, who was watching her now with solemn, knowing eyes.

To his credit, he didn’t say
anything.

Now it was her turn to ask, “What?”

Dave leaned over the small table
and took her hand. “Rosemary, you and Carson mean a lot to me.”

Rosemary shifted uncomfortably,
reluctant to have this discussion. There’d never be anything more than
friendship between them. She thought he understood.

Her brows squeezed together. Damn
it. She just wanted to enjoy Dave’s company, eat dinner, see a movie . . . and
forget Caleb Johnson ever existed.

Dave chuckled, although the sound
was devoid of humor. Still holding her fingers loosely, he brought his other
hand up and tucked a wayward strand of hair behind her ear. “Relax, darlin’. I
know you don’t feel the same way. I get that.”

Rosemary smiled sadly, not knowing
what to say. She didn’t deserve his friendship. “I’m sorry, Dave. You’re a
great guy—”

“Whoa!” He released her hand and
sat back in his chair, bringing both his palms up in a ‘stop’ gesture. “Don’t
give me the ‘you’re a great guy, we can be friends’ line.” The look he gave her
held real affection this time. “I know you and Caleb have a history. Hell,
everyone knows Carson’s his.”

She didn’t deny it—never
had—although she didn’t talk about it either. “Ancient history. There’s nothing
between us now.”

The words rolled off her tongue
easily enough, and yet they tasted like a lie. She frowned, picking up her
dinner napkin and spreading it across her lap.

He clucked his tongue. “That’s not
exactly true, darlin’. There’s Carson. And regardless of how things work out
between us, I want you both to be happy.”

Her emotions churning, a tear slid
down her cheek. Why couldn’t she have fallen for someone like Dave? He was
handsome, solid, and dependable. Not some footloose cowboy with dreams of being
a rodeo star. Even six years ago she knew Caleb could easily end up breaking
her heart. “Carson and I are happy.”

He brought his thumb to her cheek
and swiped at her tears. “Are you? From what I can see, you’re so tied up in
Caleb you can’t move on, can’t give another guy a chance.”

“That’s not true. I’ve dated
plenty,” she denied, though she knew he was speaking the truth.

Evelyn dropped off their drinks
with a quick smile for them both, and Rosemary reached for her margarita. She
needed something to help her relax. Her nerves were strung tight.

Dave lifted his frosty beer mug,
his expression pure devilment. “Maybe you need some help working him out of
your system.”

She choked on her drink, giving him
an incredulous look. He was so full of it. Damn, but he was cute, with that
golden brown buzz cut and those twinkling hazel eyes. Why couldn’t she have
fallen for him, instead of the town heartbreaker? Still, her tension eased and
she laughed. “Are you offering, cowboy?”

He grinned at her over the top of
his mug, and took a swig, then wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of
his hand before replying, “Maybe.”

Setting his mug down, his
expression grew serious. “Or maybe you need to give him another shot, or at
least an opportunity to know his son. Then you’ll be able to finally move on.”

Should he have the right to know
his son? No! He abandoned us.

But he hadn’t known about Carson.
He’d only abandoned
her
.

Rosemary looked back at the bar and
her stomach clenched, hurt rushing through her veins. Caleb had his arm around
a floozie’s waist as she stared up at him like some puppy dog looking for a
bone.

But his glittering gaze was solidly
locked on Rosemary, even as the woman’s hand crawled up his chest. Then the
other bimbo leaned over and whispered something in his ear as she pressed up
against his back. He glanced around to the voluptuous blonde, and smiled.

A smile he used to turn on her
right before he made love to her.

A smile he now gave to two sluts in
a bar; one he’d probably been giving to women all across the rodeo circuit,
along with his body.

Rosemary’s heart hardened and she
turned away as Adrianne came up to their table with their meals. No, she didn’t
want Caleb Johnson.

But did that give her the right to
keep him away from his son?

Right about the same time Rosemary
finished her meal and got to her feet, Caleb realized the last thing he wanted
was a couple of local barflies hanging all over him. The hurt look she cast
him, before glancing quickly away, made him feel like a real jerk.

Busy detaching the blonde’s
inch-long fingernails from his shirtsleeve, he glanced toward the dining room
again, just in time to see Rosemary pause next to Dave, slip her purse strap
over her shoulder, then lean in and kiss the bastard’s cheek. Dave watched the
sway of her jeans-clad hips all the way to the door.

Caleb wanted to rip off Dave’s head
and stuff it up his ass. And then confront Rosemary. Remove the pain from where
it burned a hole in his gut as if he’d eaten acid. Clear the air between them,
once and for all.

He’d purposely stayed away from her
for two days, reacquainting himself with the slower pace of Dustin, trying to
take it easy on his leg. He’d looked up a few old, still-local friends, even
reconnected with his Uncle Zip, spending an hour or so the other night yakking
to him long distance to Rock Springs, where Zip had landed after leaving
Dustin. Most of his meals Caleb had eaten at the diner off Main.

Some needed space. That had been
his aim. For Rosemary, and for him.

Pointless.

Easing off the barstool, he fished
in his pocket for a twenty, tossing it on the counter. Over the drunken
protests of the women he’d pushed away, Caleb took the side ‘Bar Only’ entrance
and slipped out. In those damned sexy high-heeled boots, Rosemary wouldn’t have
gotten halfway across the parking lot yet.

Sure enough, he spotted her a short
distance away, near the floodlight over DeeDee’s fancy new sign. Rosemary’s
head was bent and all that gorgeous red hair sheltered her face from his view.
She dug through her purse, probably searching for her keys.

Aside from the need for
confrontation, he worried to think she’d walk around Dustin with her head down
after evening set in. Not paying attention to anyone who could just step up and
grab her arm.

Yeah, like me.
His mouth set into a grim line at her careless regard for her own safety.

Not breaking his stride, Caleb
reached her in under five seconds, taking her arm in a firm grip. With a
feminine squeak of protest, she spun toward him.

He caught a brief flash of her lacy
black bra as the deep vee of her sleeveless blouse gapped revealingly. For a
second he had a chance to admire the way her skin looked like cream against the
lace.

With an irritated huff, she started
squirming and pulling at his hand. “Damn it, let go, Caleb. What the hell do
you think you’re doing?”

“We gotta talk.” Wanting some
privacy from nosy townsfolks, he maneuvered her away from the floodlight and
off the sidewalk, stopping just inside the alley where empty boxes had been
stacked for trash pickup.

She tugged harder. “Nothing to talk
about. Let go.”

“Nope.” He’d sucked down enough
beer to take the sensible edge off his brain. “I’ve got some things to say to
you.” He backed her into the nearest brick wall and slapped his hands on her
shoulders to prevent her from bolting. “You’re damned well gonna listen.”

Rosemary shoved her hair out of her
face and gave him one hell of a stink eye. “You’re drunk and an asswipe. Want
to talk about that?” Under his palms, the set of her shoulders tightened like a
cocked bow.

“I want to know what Jamison is to
you,” Caleb growled.

She stiffened even more. “None of
your business. Now get your hands off me!”

Releasing her shoulders, he slammed
his palms onto the wall behind her, not touching her, but still blocking her
exit. “Better?” he growled.

She stared up at him silently. In
the dim alley lighting he could see how anger lit her up, more than likely making
her too furious to speak. Well, tough, because they had a thing or two to get
straight.

“And it
is
my damned
business, Rosie. The man’s a skirt chaser and if he’s hanging around my son—”

Caleb got no further because
Rosemary was suddenly in his face, one slender finger drilling into his chest.
“You don’t get to say who hangs out with
my
son. You sure as hell don’t
get a vote in who chases my frigging skirt.”

She poked his chest harder. “You
don’t know a thing about me, or Dave, or what’s gone on in this town since
you’ve been goddamned gone.”

“Knock it off.” Beyond irritated,
he grabbed for her hand, yanking her closer. Until every inch of the denim and
cotton she wore was plastered against him. Her breath hitched, and the rapid
rise and fall of her breasts made Caleb break out in a sudden sweat.

The jealousy and anger roaring
through him switched off like a light bulb. All he could concentrate on was
Rosemary.

God, he could smell her, some kind
of flowery stuff he remembered she always used on her hair. Her lips parted and
he caught a tang of the margaritas she’d had. The feel of her body brought back
memories of hot nights, damp bedsheets twisted on the floor, long, tangled
curls; fingernails digging into his bare shoulders.

He stared down into her beautiful
face. She’d been a pretty kid, an adorable teenager. And almost too much woman
for him at nineteen, in spite of her innocence. Now she simply knocked him
sideways. He wanted her. Hell, he’d never stopped wanting her.

The thought of her dating a guy
Caleb used to consider a friend . . .
Damn it all to hell.

He couldn’t take it.

Dave Jamison, kissing her, his
fingers twined into those gorgeous, fiery locks. Holding her with arms that
didn’t belong around her tiny waist, mere inches from the breasts Caleb had
been the first to claim. She’d smiled at Dave.
And frowned at me
.

The ten-second kissing scene he’d
been forced to watch in DeeDee’s bar played over and over in Caleb’s brain until
he groaned aloud. The flash of desire he’d managed to bank suddenly came back
with ferocity. Asswipe that he was, he let it take him over.

Grasping her by the arms, Caleb
pressed her back into the wall again, then lowered his face until his lips were
an inch from hers. He registered the shock in her eyes, dilating the amber
until they were almost black.

“Caleb—” She swallowed and licked
her lips. The hint of protest in her voice when she uttered his name should
have resulted with him treading softly. But then her fingers curled into his
shirt lapels and she tugged. Hard. Toward her.

Against her.

Jesus.

On a groan, he took her mouth hungrily.
Her taste exploded on his tongue as he dove deep.

Deeper.

He raked a hand over her blouse,
finding an opening between buttons, slipping his fingers inside on a search for
silky flesh. The lacy bra she wore barely covered her, and he cupped a firm
breast. Six years simply disintegrated into nothing as he relearned her skin,
the way she trembled in his arms, how her tongue met his with aggression. Rosie
Carmichael had never been a shrinking violet at nineteen, and she wasn’t one
now.

Closer, damn it.
Caleb
didn’t realize he’d spoken aloud until she moaned a high, thin, “God, yes,”
into his mouth and opened her stance, rocking on her high heeled boots. He
thrust his free hand under her bottom and hoisted her up so she could wrap a
leg around his hips, a sensual anchor. Now her fingers were buried in his hair,
gripping it tightly enough to rip out chunks. The pain only added fuel to his
overloaded system. He pinned her harder against the old brick wall.

Tearing his lips from hers, he ran
them down the side of her slender throat, nipping the hot skin, lingering at
the curve of shoulder and neck where he knew she was most sensitive. When he
bit down, a shudder passed through her body. She untangled the fingers of one
hand from his hair and scraped her nails over his chest, to the edge of his
jeans, until she reached his button fly. Her palm caged him there, one eager
press against the denim covering his hard-on.

“Christ,” he muttered, moving his
hips in time with her strokes. He raised his head until he could engulf her
mouth in another exploring kiss. Her breath hitched and the tiny sob she loosed
against his tongue belied the way she clutched him tighter. “Rosie . . .”

“Rosie, what the hell!”

The words, uttered in an angry male
voice, came from behind them and she froze in his arms, pulling her lips from
his, uncurling her fingers from his scalp. She snatched her hand from his groin
and dropped her face to his shoulder. Through his shirt he could feel the heat
of embarrassment that emanated from her cheeks.

Caleb glanced behind him and cursed
under his breath as Mason stomped over.

“Get away from her, Johnson,” he
snarled.

“I’m not holding on.” Caleb relaxed
his arms and let them hang at his sides. The only connection remaining was
Rosemary’s leg curled around his hips. Her face was still buried in his neck.
“Your sister’s where she wants to be. Take a hike, Carmichael, before I forget
we’re friends.”

“We’re not friends, you son of a
bitch. Not any longer.” Mason stepped closer and sent his sister a scathing
glare. “Rosie, Carson’s running a fever. Susan called me when she couldn’t get
hold of you. I tried calling too, but your phone must be dead.”

“Oh, Lord.” She slapped her hands
on Caleb’s chest and pushed him away. “I forgot to charge it! I’m sorry. How
high of a fever? I’m sorry—”

She stepped around him and plucked
her purse off the ground where it had fallen when he’d held her against the
wall.

In that moment, with all of her
attention on their son, Caleb knew whatever bond they’d begun forming had
cracked. Like hell he’d let go of that bit of reconnection. He swung to face
Mason’s ire and stated calmly, “I’ll go with you.”

“No fucking way,” Mason bit out,
surging toward him.

Rosemary dug her fingers into her
brother’s arm and held him back. “I can handle this, Mason. Caleb has a right
to see his son—”

“Why, because he shoved his tongue
down your throat and felt you up in a damned alley? You think that means you’re
better than any other piece of ass he’s planked from here to Casper?”

Caleb had heard enough. “Goddamn
it, watch your mouth.” He eased Rosemary aside and shot out a hand, fisting
Mason’s shirt collar and dragging him to his toes, uncaring that he was choking
him. If Mason wanted to throw down with him again, he’d oblige.

“Caleb, let him go.” Rosemary
tugged at his hand.

Caleb tightened his fingers,
wringing a grunt from Mason, before abruptly releasing him. Mason stumbled but
managed to stay upright. Fury and something else that Caleb hoped might be shame
radiated from him.

“Call me anything you like, but
never speak to your sister that way again, you got me?” Caleb stared him down,
until Mason looked away, muttering under his breath.

Reaching for her hand, Caleb pulled
her toward the parking lot. “Let’s go.” He didn’t wait for her acquiescence,
but strode to where several cars were parked. “Which one’s yours?”

“The blue Honda.” She pointed to a
little Civic. Now she was the one pulling him. “Hurry, okay? Fevers really
scare me.”

“We’ll take care of him, honey.
He’ll be all right,” Caleb assured her.

As he climbed into the passenger
seat and Rosemary gunned the engine, Caleb hoped to hell he wasn’t lying.