Stud for Hire (2 page)

She trailed off, but it hardly mattered. They both knew what she was going to say.

Before long Hanna would be married. And in Sidney's estimation, that was when all the fun would end.

She was probably right.

Relax and enjoy yourself.

Right.

“So, if I'm supposed to relax and enjoy myself . . . why did you invite Tibby?” Hanna nocked her head toward the gaggle of women by the rail fence. Their queen, Tibby, Zack's sister, was checking out the hot studs . . . with her hands. The men seemed to enjoy the fondling. They preened and thrust out their chests, pumped their biceps, and flexed their muscles. Hanna had never seen so much rippling flesh.

It had been a surprise to board the bus for this weekend getaway and see her future sister-in-law ensconced in the front seat. Hanna had expected it would be only herself, Sidney, and a few select friends attending what was billed as a
Wild Rollicking Weekend for Women
. She'd looked forward to the opportunity to escape from her worries, from her impending marriage . . . for a while.

“She invited herself. And all her friends.” Sidney blew out a disgusted breath. “No doubt she's here to make sure we behave.”

“Tibby? A chaperone?” Even as the words left Hanna's lips, Tibby grabbed one of the cowpokes . . . by the horn. He chuckled, eased her hand away, and waggled a teasing finger, but he didn't seem offended. He leaned closer and whispered something in Tibby's ear. Her eyes lit up and she nodded.

Sidney grunted. “Looks like she's found her man.”

“Maybe he'll keep her occupied.” The last thing Hanna wanted was Zack's sister tracking her every move this weekend. She disliked being watched, or judged. And Tibby excelled at judgment.

Hanna now suspected it ran in the family. With the exception of one drunken incident in high school, Zack had always been a perfect gentleman—too perfect, sometimes. Though she'd known him most of her life, she'd recently started noticing sides to him she found bothersome. She wasn't sure if those traits had always been there, or if their relationship brought them out in him. One of those was his possessiveness, his need to know where she was and who she was with at all times. His fervor was starting to rankle. She wouldn't put it past him to have sent Tibby as a watchdog.

Though she and Zack had dated in high school, Hanna had been fairly naïve and immature—certainly not ready for what Zack wanted. He'd objected volubly to her going off to art school, especially in a foreign country, but she'd refused to miss the opportunity to study art on scholarship at the Sorbonne, and they'd broken up. When she returned from Paris, he had patiently wooed her back, treating her with kid gloves. But ever since Hanna had accepted his ring, he'd become more than a little controlling.

For some reason, lately, whenever she spent time with him, she felt her world diminish.

And the thought of being watched by Tibby made her stomach clench. Not that Hanna had planned to misbehave. She'd brought a book and intended to spend the weekend in her room, reading. The brochure Sidney showed her for the dude ranch, with the full itinerary for the sexy bachelorette weekend, had not inspired her—a welcome hayride and Hunky Hoedown on Friday night, sexy skinny-dipping on Saturday and brunch served by “shirtless cowpokes” on Sunday. There were other activities too, including a sexy photo shoot, lap-dance-a-rama, and a man auction.

None of which appealed to her in the least.

Probably because none of the men pictured in the brochure had appealed to her in the least. But then,
he
hadn't been in the brochure.

A slow thrill trickled through her soul.

She glanced over at the barn, where that gorgeous man had been. He'd disappeared into the shadows, but that didn't erase the image of him burned on her brain.

She tried, unsuccessfully, to push it aside. She was an engaged woman. She had no business lusting after a hunky stripper.

But the temptation to embrace, for once, the passion she'd always craved, was a powerful urge.

“What the hell are you doing?” Cody's voice echoed off the rafters, causing the horses, innocently lounging in their stalls, to jump.

Logan shot him a snarky grin. “Working. Like we agreed.”

Cody frowned at the scoop of oats Logan was emptying into Gotham's feedbag. “You know damn well that's not what I meant when I asked you to come this weekend.”

“On the contrary. This is exactly what I thought you meant when you asked me to come . . . and you know it.”

Angling his long body to the side, Cody leaned against the stall. Gotham lipped his ear and he scratched the gelding's neck. “Come on, Logan. Play ball here.”

Logan quirked a brow. “Interesting choice of words.”

“You know what I mean.”

“Again, I believe I do.” He bit back a smile at Cody's consternation. It was so rarely that he was able to see that particular expression on Cody's face. Not that his friend was a Golden Child with a perfect life, but he kind of was. Everything had always gone perfectly for Cody. He was handsome, witty, well liked. He'd even been able to turn around the financial decimation his father had left him.

He never had to deal with reality like normal humans. He just created his own reality. Normally, it didn't bug Logan, but this time it did.

“I'm not getting on that stage,” he said as he reached for the shovel to muck out a stall. With any luck, he could get some on Cody's shoes.

“Give me that.” A tussle ensued, which Cody won, but only because Logan let him. “You're not here to muck stalls.”

“I'm not? Then what am I here for exactly?”

Cody sucked in a breath, but didn't respond. Logan noticed that his eyes flicked away. A dead giveaway that Cody was up to something. “I just thought it would be, you know, fun for you to participate this weekend.”

“And on what planet, what universe, what skewed dimension would posing as a stripper ever be fun?”

“Dude. I'm not asking you to strip—”

“Well, that's a mercy.”

“I'm just asking you to participate.”

Logan narrowed his eyes. “Participate?”

“You know. Socialize.” Cody's Adam's apple bobbed. “With the women.”

He thrust his thumb out at the barnyard, though most of the flibbertigibbets had gone into the ranch house. “Those women?”

“Okay. All right. I admit it, most of them are a . . . little young for you—”

“A little young?” Shit. They'd been wet behind the ears. And chewing gum for Christ's sake. All but one of them . . .

He forced the thought of her from his mind. Because she made him hard and he didn't want to give Cody any ideas. Although, upon reflection, Cody already had ideas. Too damn many of them.

“But you have to admit . . .” His friend's gaze went a little too mischievous for Logan's liking. “There might have been one or two of them you'd like to, ahem, pursue.”

The other shoe dropped and Logan's jaw dropped with it. “Holy crap. Are you trying to fix me up?”

Cody's insanely long lashes fluttered. “Who, me?”

“Christ, Cody—”

“You have to admit, you are getting a little long in the tooth to be a bachelor.”

“Have you been talking to my mother?” Logan frowned. “And what the hell are you trying to imply? You're still single and you're six months older than me.”

“I'm not the marrying type.”

“And I am?”

“Look. I knew she'd be here and I know you had a thing for her in high school—”

And it all fell into place.

Was forcing him to spend a precious weekend posing as man candy at a sleazy bachelorette party Cody's moronic way of matchmaking? Judging from his expression, it was.

“Shit.” Logan turned away and raked his fingers through his hair. Hell. He should have known, the moment he saw her. He should have suspected . . . An odd mixture of mortification and hope sluiced through his bowels. He wasn't sure he liked it.

“This could be your chance with her, Logan.” Something in Cody's tone snagged his attention and he stilled. It was true. It could be.

“A lot of water has gone under the bridge since high school, Cody.” She hadn't noticed him then. Why on earth could he expect things to be different?

But she had looked at him this afternoon. She'd seen him. He hadn't imagined the ripple of energy between them. Had he?

“I know. But you're different. She's different. Who knows what might happen if you sidle up to her. Ask her to dance.”

Logan snorted something that might have been a laugh. Or not. “If I ask her to dance, I know what will happen.”

“You do?”

“I'll smash her toes.” He liked to think he was all suave and slick now that he was a successful businessman, but the fact of the matter was, he'd never really conquered the dance floor and probably never would. Not with two left feet.

“Okay. So no dancing. But you should come along on the hayride this afternoon. Cut her from the herd. Talk to her.”

Talk to her?

He had no idea why the idea sent fear shooting through him. But along with it was an exhilarating thrill.

Talk to her.

He'd never really done that before. The last time he'd seen her he'd croaked out a platitude, but that hardly counted. And it had been years ago. Surely he was more suave than he had been. At least slick enough to speak to her.

“Tell me you'll come.”

“I'll think about it.”

“Promise me you'll come.” Logan didn't understand the thread of intensity in Cody's tone.

“I said I'll think about it.” He didn't mean to snap, but it felt good. Cody was an annoying prick sometimes.

“Great. See you then.”

Logan glowered at him but Cody only smirked as he turned on his heel to leave the barn.

“Oh, and Logan?” he said, as he paused at the door.

“Yeah?”

“Be sure to take a shower first.”

“Why?”

Cody's grin was evil. “Because you smell like the barn.”

***

“Well, this is nice.” Sidney tossed herself onto Hanna's bed, rumpling the covers. Her long blond curls splayed untidily over the pillows.

Hanna frowned at her sister, but didn't mention that it might be construed as rude to rumple someone else's bed. Sidney had never been a fan of Mom's hospital-corner philosophy. As kids, they'd been expected to have their beds made so tightly a quarter would bounce off them. But Sidney, as always, rebelled against that.

She rebelled against everything.

“Don't you think it's nice?” Sidney prompted, as though she knew of Hanna's annoyance and wanted to needle her a little. Because, after all, that's what Sidney did best.

“It's very nice,” Hanna said dutifully, glancing around the room. It was artfully styled with a large four-poster, antique dresser, and a small table by the window. The art on the wall was subdued and simple. Country scenes. Hardly the bordello she had expected.

“Nice.” Sidney growled playfully. “Oh, come on, Hanna. Unclench. We're here to have a good time.” She riffled the pillows. “Get messy.”

“Please don't mess up the pillows.” Hanna shooed her sister off the bed and straightened the duvet and then reorganized the decorative pillows in a pleasing manner.

Better.

Sidney blew out a breath and flopped onto her own bed. “Brother. Heaven forbid the blanket should be wrinkled.”

“I like it tidy.” She liked everything tidy. It seemed so much more . . . controllable that way. Though it was probably an illusion. Life rarely was controllable.

The only time she allowed herself total freedom was with her art. Oh, that . . . that got messy. Hanna tried to ignore the fact that painting was the only thing she seemed to enjoy anymore . . . and it was the only messy thing she allowed in her life. Everything else was carefully planned and controlled. Even her impending marriage had been a choice of meticulous logic.

Again, a little fire flared in her chest.

The temptation to release her hold on the reins, to allow herself to be free of restrictions, to wallow in the color and the fiber of life was too strong. It had been tugging at her a lot lately, and the more she tried to convince herself that the order she'd created was for the best, the more her heart ached.

Probably better not to think about it at all.

Amy pierced her dour reflection, as she burst through the open door. She had a tendency to do that, burst into rooms. She was too full of energy and passion for life to do less.

Hanna had met Amy while studying at the Sorbonne in Paris. They'd hit it off immediately and remained close friends ever since. She now owned an art gallery in Dallas.

She was a wonderful friend, not tidy or restrained in the slightest. Hanna loved spending time with her, though they didn't get together as often as she would have liked, now that she was living in Snake Gully and Amy lived in the city. Amy had a way of making Hanna feel wild and free, at home in her skin. And, unlike Zack, she supported Hanna's passion for painting wholeheartedly.

“Lookie who I found lurking in the barnyard and ogling the hotties,” Amy crowed, tugging a jean-clad woman with a long dark ponytail into the room.

“Porsche!” Hanna couldn't hold back her squeal. She dashed over to wrap her friend into her arms. Though they were apart in years—indeed, when she was a teen, Hanna had been Porsche's babysitter—they'd become very close. Porsche had since moved to Dallas, but they remained good friends. It was wonderful to see her.

“I was not lurking,” Porsche said primly.

“But you were ogling.” Yeah. Sidney was one to talk.

Porsche flashed a grin and shrugged. “It's a tough job, but someone's gotta do it.”

“I'm so glad you're here.” Hanna hugged her again. “All the way from Dallas?”

“How could I miss this? The second Sidney told me about this party, I started making plans.” Porsche flopped onto Hanna's bed, mussing the pillows, but Hanna swallowed any rebuke. She could straighten them after Porsche left, and she was far too pleased to see her friend to complain. Instead she sat beside her and gave her another hug.

“Plans?” Sidney's ears perked up.

Porsche waggled her eyebrows. “Tequila.”

“Excellent.” Sidney rubbed her hands together. “Where is it?”

“It's for tonight, silly . . . We can crack it open after the hayride.”

“After the hayride?” Sidney wrinkled her nose.

“Trust me. Cody uses a diesel tractor. It can get stinky. We don't want anyone having, you know, an accident.” Though Porsche spoke like an experienced woman, Hanna knew she'd just turned twenty-one. Still and all, it was probably good advice.

“Sounds, um, lovely.” Amy's expression was comical.

“I vote if anyone gets sick, we dump them over the side,” Sidney said with a laugh.

“No one gets dumped over the side.” Seriously? Did it need to be said?

“Hanna, you're such a party pooper.”

It was probably not very mature to stick her tongue out at her sister, but it felt good. Besides, they were all only kidding. Probably.

“Well, I am happy to see you, Porsche. Tequila or not,” Hanna said. “But why didn't you come with us on the bus?”

Porsche chuckled. “Because first of all,” she said as she ticked off a finger, “I stopped in to see Ford and Crystal on the way here.” Porsche's brother lived on the ranch next door. “It seemed stupid to go all the way into town to catch the bus.”

“True.” Sidney nodded sagely.

“And secondly . . .” She wrinkled her nose. “I heard Tibby was on the bus.”

“Tibby.” Both Hanna and Sidney wrinkled their noses in solidarity. They'd all grown up in Snake Gully. They all knew Tibby well.

“With any luck, she'll get distracted like she did last time—”

Hanna gaped at Porsche in shock. “Wait. You've been here before?” It was hard to imagine Ford—who was terribly overprotective—allowing his baby sister to frolic with strippers.

Porsche grinned. “Did I mention my brother lives next door? Cody's ranch is a hop, skip, and a jump from there.”

“You did.” There was a bite in Sidney's tone. It was a well-known fact that Porsche had a mad crush on Cody too. Though Sidney and Porsche were friends, there had always been an element of man-rivalry between them.

But seriously, didn't everyone have a crazy crush on Cody?

Well, except Hanna.

“I come over all the time when I'm in town.” Porsche affected an innocent look. “Claire and I are besties.”

“Surely it's not to see Cody,” Sidney murmured.

“Claire and I are besties. I think I mentioned that.”

“You did.” Sidney put out a lip.

“Who's Claire?” Amy asked, though she probably only asked to defuse the brewing tension between Porsche and Sidney.

“She's Cody and Cade's sister,” Hanna said with a smile. “They all run the ranch together.”

“Not to mention Lisa makes fabulous pastries,” Porsche continued.

“And who's Lisa?” Amy asked.

“Cade's fiancé.”

Hanna's jaw dropped. “Wait. Cade is engaged?” She'd always liked Cody's brother, who was a retired soldier and a member of the volunteer fire department. But of the two brothers, he was by far the more reserved. It was a shock that he tumbled for a woman before Cody.

But then again, maybe not. It was highly unlikely Cody would ever tumble.

“You remember Lisa Binder, don't you?” Porsche asked.

“Of course. But I thought she left town.”

“She came back. And she's the ranch baker. You'll gain five pounds this weekend, I promise.”

“That's not a good promise,” Hanna felt compelled to mention, but Porsche merely chuckled.