Ride a Cowboy (11 page)

“Can I ask why it was necessary to keep me cuffed all night? The way I feel, I couldn’t take on a baby.”

She looked at him with disgust. “The way you were swinging at my deputies, I was afraid you’d take out the whole squad. I guess anyone who could tame the famous Sodbuster could handle just about anyone.”

He managed a weak grin. It was slowly coming back to him. “Oh, yeah. Sodbuster. Got my eight seconds in this time.”

“And a whole lot more, as I understand.”

He slid a glance at her. “Don’t tell me you were there.”

“Didn’t have to be. While you were trying to beat them up, my deputies were singing your praises. Half of them were there for the rodeo finals last night. Saw your eight-second ride on Sodbuster.”

His chuckle was a little rusty. “Are you impressed?”

She managed to unlock him with as little contact as possible, an amazing feat, then stood back, a good three feet away.

“Disgusted would be more like it. It takes a lot more than that to impress me. I’d think a big rodeo star like you would want to set a better example for others.”

“Example, huh?” Kyle stood slowly, taking inventory of his aching body. “If I promise to behave can you dig me up some aspirin?”

“I’ll have my deputy find some for you. Follow me.”

She turned and headed out of the cell, expecting Kyle to follow her. He scrambled off the bunk and caught up to her as quickly as he could. He started to reach for her arm before he remembered what she’d said about touching her.”Uh, ma’am? Excuse me, Sheriff?”

“Just follow me,” she snapped over her shoulder. “We’ll take care of business and you’ll be on your way.”

Kyle’s head throbbed with every thud of his boots on the concrete floor. He wondered if he closed his eyes and then opened them again real slow, he’d find himself in his room at the hotel, with the gorgeous buckle bunny who’d been hanging on him the night before, and all this would be just a nightmare.

The sheriff turned a sharp corner, her ass wiggling provocatively—more tempting because he was sure the wiggle was not deliberate—and he found himself in a small room with a table and three chairs. A man who looked to be somewhere in his sixties sat on one side of the table. The sheriff closed the door and leaned against it, folding her arms across her tempting breasts.

“Sit down, Mr. Mitchell,” she said. “This won’t take five minutes. Judge Harley will take care of things, you can pay your fine and be out of my sight.”

His stomach clenched, a combination of the aftereffects of the night before and the prospect of what dire things a judge might decide. “Did you say judge?” He looked from one to the other. “What do I need a judge for?”

“I think we’ll get through this if you just do what the sheriff says,” Judge Harley pointed out.

Kyle wondered if he’d fallen into an alternate universe. He lowered his aching body into one of the chairs.

“Your name Kyle Mitchell?” the man asked.

“Uh, I’d say you already know that,” Kyle said.

“Just getting it down for the record. All right, then. Kyle Mitchell, you have been found guilty of being drunk and disorderly and causing damage to property. Fifty dollars for the fine and two hundred for repairs.” He smacked a gavel on the table. “Dismissed. He’s all yours, Jessie.”

She unfolded her arms and opened the door. “Not mine, Sam. I’ll be happy to see the last of him.”

“Wait a minute.” Kyle was trying to make sense of what was happening. “Wait just a damn minute. Drunk? Disorderly? Damage? What the hell is going on here? I don’t even know what happened.”

“Your friend’s waiting outside for you,” the feisty blonde told him. “He can explain everything. Come on. Let’s get this over with.”

Friend? What friend? Who had come to fetch him? And where the hell was he, anyway?

He followed the sheriff through a door into what looked like the main room of the sheriff’s office. A dispatcher sat at a communications center against one wall, four desks were arrange in the open space, and tucked into a far corner was a miniscule office that Kyle assumed belonged to the sheriff.

A uniformed deputy waited for him at one of the desks, and lounging in a chair beside it was Gary Handler, grinning like a fool.

“Enjoy your night out, Kyle?” he asked and winked at the sheriff.

Those full lips never cracked a smile. “Let’s hope he doesn’t enjoy any more like them any time soon.”

“Gary, exactly where the fuck are we? And how did I get here?”

“Better watch your language in front of a lady,” Gary told him, still grinning like an idiot. “You’re in Watson’s Creek.”

Where?

“How did I get here?
Why
did I get here?”

Now Gary laughed, a loud sound that grated on Kyle’s nerves.

“You told the little buckle bunny you’d follow her anywhere. This was where she took you.”

“Huh?” He would have scratched his head, but it still hurt too badly. “Then how did I end up in jail?”

“You got in a fight with some…Neanderthal who apparently wanted to take charge of your…buckle bunny,” the sheriff snapped. “It took four of my deputies to break up the fight and poor Charley Haggerty had to close the bar down.” She looked at her deputy. “Judd, give Mr. Mitchell back his belongings so he can pay his fine and get out of my jurisdiction.”

The deputy handed him a large plastic bag with his watch, his signet ring, his wallet and other odds and ends he’d had in his pockets. From a desk drawer, he removed Kyle’s prized black Stetson and held it out carefully. Kyle clapped it on his head, wincing at even that slight pressure, opened his wallet and fished out the required money.

“I want a receipt,” he told the deputy.

“Got one right here.”

As pulled together as he could be, he turned to the woman in charge. “I don’t suppose you’d care to tell me your name, would you? Since I spent the night in your fine establishment.”

She glared at him. “Jessica Wade.
Sheriff
Jessica Wade. But you won’t be using it again.”

Kyle grinned at her. Man, she sure was cute when she got her temper up. “Well, Sheriff Jessie—Can I call you Jessie? It suits your style a little more—it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“You may call me Sheriff, and I wish I could say the same,” she snapped. “Get out of here and don’t come back to Watson’s Creek, Mr. Mitchell. We can’t afford your visits.”

Gary tugged on his arm. “Come on, hot shot. Let’s get out of here before they decide to stick you back in that cell.”

“But—”

“No buts. Let’s go.” He literally pulled Kyle from the office, through the door and outside. “Get in,” he ordered, opening the passenger door to his truck before jogging around to the other side of the vehicle. He cranked the engine over and pulled out of the parking lot, turning onto the street and heading toward the Interstate.

“Whew!” Kyle leaned back against the seat’s headrest. “She’s a pistol, isn’t she? Mmm-mmm. A fine woman.”

“Aren’t you in enough trouble?” Gary asked. “Spending the night in a cell? I’d wipe her from my mind if I were you. Chasing tail’s what got you into this predicament in the first place.”

****

“I’m telling you, Kyle, you’re gonna get your cock in a vise if you do this.”

Gary lounged in a chair in Kyle’s hotel room, watching him stuff his wallet into the pocket of fresh jeans. Kyle had showered, shaved and swallowed what looked like half a bottle of acetaminophen along with two pots of coffee. His hands still shook a little, but he was considerably better than he had been that morning.

“I made a bad impression on Sheriff Jessie,” he said. “I intend to correct it.”

And do a lot more.

In his entire life, he’d never been sucker-punched by the sight of a woman until Sheriff Jessica Wade had looked at him through the bars of that cell. Jessie, he reminded himself. She really looked like a Jessie. She was the first one in ages who hadn’t been star-struck by his celebrity and fallen at his feet. Sometimes stark naked.

No, this woman presented a real challenge, one impossible to resist. He found himself imagining ways to get around those big tall walls she’d built around herself. He just hoped he wasn’t going to crash and burn.

“She’s not your run-of-the-mill buckle bunny like you’re so fond of, hot shot,” Gary warned. “It’ll take a lot more than the patented Mitchell charm.”

“Not to worry.” He hoped his voice sounded as casual as he meant it to. It wouldn’t do for Gary to know that this little episode was a tad more important than his usual escapades. “I’ll sweep her off her feet.”

“Well, you’d better stay away from the bourbon and out of Charley’s. And remember, she carries a very big gun.”

Kyle swallowed a bubble of trepidation, took a last look at himself in the mirror and turned to face his friend. “How the hell did I get so out of control last night, anyway?”

Gary shrugged. “An eight-second ride on Sodbuster, a big fat check and enough points to take to Grand Nationals. And an armful of woman just looking to help you celebrate.”

“You know…” Kyle made a face. “I don’t even remember what she looked like.”

Gary pushed himself out of the chair. “I gotta tell you, pal. I haven’t seen you tie one on like that in years.”

And he hadn’t. Kyle had been riding bulls on the rodeo circuit for fifteen years. He wasn’t a green kid looking to make a splash. Stupid between the ears. He’d earned his stripes and picked up a lot of wisdom along the way. But a year ago Sodbuster had nearly ended his career and his life. Finishing the eight-second ride on the back of that monster was cause for celebration, but he’d been dumb enough to let it get out of hand.

Sheriff Jessie Wade had looked at him like he was dirt beneath her feet. After what he’d done, he couldn’t blame her. But that woman reached out to him in a way no woman had in years. Not just to his cock but to every part of his body. Somehow he had to get in her good graces. Because he wanted Sheriff Jessie Ward.
Really
wanted her.

“So.” He checked himself in the mirror once more, making sure he’d showered and scrubbed and polished away every vestige of the bum he’d looked like. “Where the hell is Watson’s Creek and how do I get there?”

Gary pushed himself up from the chair, laughing.

“It’s not as far as you think. Thirty miles west on the Interstate. There’s only one exit sign for it so be sure not to miss it.”

Kyle jingled his keys nervously. “You think I’m liable to run into that hanger-on who took me for a ride last night?”

“Maybe. You’ll just have to finagle your way around that one. And I won’t be around to keep an eye on things for you.”

Kyle laughed. “Fat lot of good you did me last night.”

“Hey!” Gary held up his hands. “I wasn’t about to let one of your fists mess up
my
pretty face. You were swinging like a gorilla.”

Kyle winced. “Yeah, that’d be a bitch to get past.” Then he smiled. “But I definitely plan to do it.”

Gary opened the door. “The Houston rodeo opens in five days, you know. You still planning to leave when I do and get there early?”

Kyle nodded. “The company that owns Sodbuster is trailering him there. I want to get there early enough to study him a little beforehand and see what I have to do to make sure I draw him again.”

“You sure you want another crack at him? You got by this time with no broken bones.”

“Gotta let him know who’s boss.”

Gary shrugged. “Your funeral. Well, I have stuff to do today but I plan to hit the road in two days.” He slapped Kyle on the back. “Good luck. Oh, and a few peace offerings wouldn’t hurt, either.”

****

“Sheriff?” Jonas Beck, her youngest deputy, stuck his head through the open door of Jessie’s office. “That…uh…
guy
is here.”

Jessie dropped the folder she was leafing through on her desk and raised her eyes, frowning. “Guy? What guy?”

“You know. The one that busted up Charley’s place.”

Jessie felt her eyebrows rise almost to her hairline. “He’s here? In the office?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“What does he want?” A knot twisted in her stomach. Had he come back to make a scene? She hoped not. She wasn’t up to another clash.

“I don’t know, Sheriff. But…uh…I think you’d better come out here.”

Feeling dread in every muscle of her body, Jessie pushed away from the desk and stepped into the big bullpen area…and stopped. Stared. What the hell?

The last time she’d seen Kyle Mitchell he’d looked worse than something the cat dragged in and smelled like yesterday’s garbage. The man standing at the front of the office was six foot plus of gorgeous, good-looking male, his dark brown hair curling just beneath his Stetson, chocolate eyes watching her with a hint of humor and…what? Something else. But what really got to her was what he was holding—a huge bouquet of flowers and a giant box of what could only be chocolates.

What was going on here?

Something close to emotion stole over her, warping her nerve endings and wriggling into her usually unaffected heart. Stunned and dismayed, she couldn’t tear her eyes from the man grinning at her. Her breath was trapped in her throat and that same usually dependable heart was suddenly beating in triple time. Holy hell. She
never
reacted to a man like that, even the ones she played her “games” with.

And she certainly didn’t intend to react to Kyle Mitchell. At thirty-two, she’d had more experience with his type than she cared to think about. She knew his type exactly. Hot hands, hard ride, then off in a cloud of dust. Been there, done that, had the scars to prove it. And she wasn’t interested in revisiting the unhappiness. No, Kyle Mitchell should be wearing a big read sign that said “Danger! Keep away!”

Ignoring the unfortunate tingling now invading her nipples and the sudden rush of liquid in her throbbing pussy, she squared her shoulders and strode to where Kyle Mitchell waited expectantly.

The best defense is a good offense
.

“Did you comeback to finish off what’s left of poor Charley’s place?” she asked, deliberately belligerent. She needed something to counteract her body’s instant reaction to this man.