Texas Men (2 page)

Tara stepped past her, tapping Meaghan’s chin to close her dropped jaw. “I found him.”

“But you lost your lipstick,” Meaghan said, her voice syrupy sweet.

“Maybe I wasn’t wearin’ any.”

“Cody Westhofen kissed you in the parking lot!”

Deciding denials would only make her look guiltier, Tara shrugged. “He was only warmin’ up. Keep out of his path, or you might be next.”

Meaghan’s eyelids dipped closed, and she sighed. “I wouldn’t survive. One kiss, and I’d forget my own name and never get through tonight.”

“Well, the last cowboy’s in the corral. Let’s get to work.”

Twenty minutes later, the last of the women had made their way to their tables, shifting chairs closer to the stage. Many abandoned their pizza-sized tables to scoot closer still. The moderator gave the introductions, thanking the sponsors of the event. Then the auction began in earnest.

As she watched from behind the bar where she mixed pitchers of drinks, Tara fidgeted, not sure why she was in such a restless, grumpy mood. The stage was set for a rowdy good time.

Yet she couldn’t let go of the blue mood that settled around her as pernicious as the cloud of perfume hovering in the room.

While Cody had made his way through his adoring throng, Tara had had a moment of perfect clarity in the midst of mayhem. A “come to Jesus” moment—if she’d been the religious sort, which she wasn’t.

As it was, the raucous noise coming from the crowd of rowdy women crammed inside her bar faded. The Christmas lights that had been hung around the raised dais of the stage ceased to flicker. The scents of sickly sweet margaritas and sour beer, served by the pitcher, of perfume and hair spray, spicy cologne and musty cattle all coalesced for one sharp, unforgiving moment.

In her early forties, Tara sat squarely at the upper end of the age scale of all the women in the room. Older than the majority of the young hunks up for auction.

Hell, she was older than most everyone except Oscar Fuentes, who was tending bar beside her, whose loud guffaws jerked the T-shirt stretched tight around his round belly.

For five years she’d played host to the town’s annual “Hook-Up.” Five years she’d watched young women flood the little town from all parts of south Texas for the chance at one of the county’s unattached cowboys.

For a good cause and the ultimate fantasy, women showed up dressed in their polished, unbroken boots, designer blue jeans that wouldn’t hold up to a day’s real work in a saddle, and wallets overflowing with greenbacks.

For one night, they forgot the reality of what hooking up with a dusty cowboy really meant. They bought into the image—the mythical man astride a powerful beast who just might be as untamed between the sheets.

So had she.

And look what it had gotten her.

“Ladies, meet Casper Coolidge from Texas Game & Fisheries. Yeah, he’s a park ranger. Casper’s favorite movie is
The Notebook
, and his idea of the perfect date is a picnic on a blanket under the stars.”

Tara rolled her eyes at that bit of fiction from the moderator of the event.
The Notebook
? A picnic on a blanket?

A snort sounded next to her. “That man’s perfect date is a gal who can put her own worm on a hook. He’s just hopin’ to get laid.”

Tara shot Oscar an amused glare. “Be nice, now. Maybe Casper’s been hidin’ his sensitive side all this time.”

“All for a good cause. Yeah,” he said, the curl of his lips just visible under the thick brush of his handlebar mustache, “I heard you the first time.”

As Marvin Gaye’s “Sexual Healing” began to play on the loudspeakers, Casper entered from the left, rolling his hips as he made his way up the steps of the stage. Casper didn’t have an ounce of rhythm in his bony, long-limbed frame, but that didn’t curb this crowd’s enthusiasm one iota. Whistles, catcalls, and the heavy stomp of booted heels accompanied each bump and grind he attempted as he rotated his skinny hips.

“Boy’s gonna hurt himself.”

Tara shook her head. “Only thing’s gonna take a poundin’ is some woman’s bank account, and most of ’em are too fired up to care whether or not he can dance a lick.”

Which was true. With the raising of half a dozen ping-pong paddles, the bidding started briskly at a hundred dollars.

Tara sighed and wiped the counter with her bar towel, reminding herself that she’d agreed to host this all in the name of new playground equipment and a good time.

“Oh, hell, now what’s that knucklehead doin’?”

Tara’s gaze whipped back to the stage to watch as Casper slowly stripped off his chambray shirt to reveal a chest so milky white the stage lighting made him appear as pale as his namesake.

“Boy’s gonna blind us all.” Oscar’s mouth twisted in a grimace. “How does a man who works all day in the sun manage to look like that?”

Casper twirled his shirt in the air and released it into the crowd.

Smiling, Tara leaned a hip against the counter. “Why don’t you relax,
mijo
? The women came to see a little cowboy beef-cake. Casper’s just makin’ sure the rest of the guys have to up the ante, too.”

“You put ’im up to that?”

Tara placed her hands on her hips and arched one eyebrow. “Now, I’m not gonna say yay or nay.”

“Damnit, Tara,” Oscar said, his voice grinding in disgust. “If it’s not bad enough we get overrun every weekend by desk jockeys in cowboy gear, now you’ve got our own boys makin’ asses out of themselves.”

“
All for a good cause,
” she repeated, slinging her arm around his well-padded shoulders. “And don’t think our boys aren’t enjoyin’ every minute of the attention.”

“We have four hundred dollars from the lady in red,” the auctioneer said. “Do we have four fifty?”

Oscar’s mouth dropped open. “Four hundred for Casper? Don’t they know that boy’s so bashful he’s never been out with a girl who wasn’t his sister?”

Tara didn’t even try to hold back her laughter. It rolled out of her, turning a few heads. “Say it a little louder and watch what happens,” she murmured.

Tara enjoyed the banter but kept only part of her attention on what new chestnut Oscar would drop. Laughter right about now was a welcome relief. Her body was tense, her stomach knotting. A plan began to form in her mind, gathering strength like circling clouds on a hot summer’s day.

What she planned to do tonight was either the dumbest thing she’d ever done or the most inspired.

“Sold! To number two thirteen.”

Tara tossed her towel on the bar and lifted the bar ledge to step through it.

“Now, where do you think you’re goin’?” Oscar asked, raising one brow, suspicion darkening his black eyes.

With a defiant tilt of her chin, she said, “To get my paddle.”

“Wait a second! You plannin’ on buyin’ yerself a date?”

“Cody’s comin’ up next. Someone has to keep him from startin’ a riot.”

“
Cody?
” Oscar’s snort ruffled the bristles lying like a caterpillar atop his lip. “I think that boy could manage this crowd all by himself. Just let ’em take numbers.”

Tara didn’t bother acknowledging his statement. It was a well-known fact in these parts that Cody had a way with women. Young and old. One look from his sleepy blue eyes made wet puddles of them all.

But handsome is as handsome does, and Cody Westhofen was nothing more than a man whore when it came to women. With a crook of one long, calloused finger, he could have almost any unattached woman he wanted, and he’d made it all too clear he’d never be satisfied with just one.

Damn, if she hadn’t fallen like all the rest. Since the day he’d brushed up next to her and settled his startling blue gaze on her, she’d been his willing doormat—his go-to girl when he was between lovers.

Maybe he thought her safe because she’d been down that track a time or two. Surely she’d have no expectations that he’d stick around long enough to leave behind a toothbrush, let alone his heart.

So, over the months of their arrangement, he’d become complacent, taking for granted the fact she’d always leave the door open when he came to call.

Only, she hadn’t been exactly truthful with him about their open-ended relationship when she’d smiled as he swept other girls into his arms and led them toward the dance floor and eventually his bed. Her expression might have said she didn’t care, but inside she’d harbored a hurt and disappointment that no amount of stern self-admonishment could relieve.

She’d gone and fallen in love with the bastard.

Tonight she’d get him out of her system once and for all. Give him a time he’d never forget. Burn the experience into her soul because she knew no matter who might replace him in her bed, she’d never get over him.

So even if she did have to lay down some serious cash, it was all for a damn good cause.

C
ody Westhofen sucked on a cold beer while he waited in the lounge beside the main bar along with the rest of the night’s “offerings.”

He sat alone. Not that he minded. Not that the fact even registered for more than a second. Men tended to want to fight him, not befriend him.

Fact was, he liked his own company—unless one of the fairer sex was in the vicinity. Sparking on women was a hormonal imperative, and what caused most of the disagreements with competing bucks—something Cody understood on an elemental level far better than any of his competition.

Since he’d reached puberty, he’d understood he had a gift. It was more than his handsome face—he’d also been blessed with a natural sexual appeal he wasn’t in the least ashamed to use to his advantage.

Women understood it. Some even drew on it for more than just their own pleasure. Tonight’s gratuitous display was one such example.

Cody didn’t mind that Meaghan and her crew were pimping him out. The auction was always good fun. And for the money one woman would plunk down for the pleasure of his company, he’d do his best to please her.

Cody never left a woman wanting. He took pride in that fact. And usually pride, and the promise of a sexy ride between the sheets, was enough to still the restlessness inside him.

However, tonight he felt off his game.

One look into Tara’s blue eyes while he’d made his way through the crowd to the lounge, and his pleasure in the event had spoiled like tomatoes left too long on the vine.

So he’d had a little fun. He’d stopped to twirl a woman under his arm and bend her over for a kiss. Then he’d had to kiss her friend so she wouldn’t be jealous. Ten kisses later, and he’d finally been able to slide into the room where the rest of the bachelors waited their turn on the stage.

All those kisses were in good fun. The crowd had hooted, the women around him had eagerly pressed closer—but then he’d caught Tara’s stare.

The woman had a way of looking right through him, seeing straight inside him, that scared the shit out of him while completely arousing him.

Her ready smile hadn’t slipped, but he’d seen the way one brow had lifted in derision, and suddenly the fun had been sucked right out of the night.

Somehow he’d disappointed her. Which shouldn’t have mattered. He’d had prettier. Younger. More
athletic
lovers.

But with Tara, he could be himself. Didn’t have to make promises he knew he couldn’t keep. She was old enough, secure enough that she didn’t need sweet, romantic lies to dress up what they had.

They’d bandy words back and forth in public that would flay the skin off more sensitive people. Alone, they abandoned conversation for an honest, naked, no-holds-barred fucking.

No one had ever made him feel more like a man or a naughty boy all at the same time.

At the beginning of their relationship, he’d been content knowing her door would always be open. He even admitted he’d become complacent. She was his best friend, a confidant who always told him the truth even when it hurt, a sister when he needed advice about where to point his dick, the only person he could be completely natural with—no games, no lies.

But lately he’d sensed a change in her.

Or maybe something had changed inside him.

Tonight he’d seen the militant lift of her chin as she’d stared him down, a challenge that left him feeling naked and exposed for the whore he really was.

Which left him feeling off his game and growing quietly angrier by the minute.

Tara knew what tonight was all about. Sure, most of the women here only expected a good time with their girlfriends while they laughed and hollered at men they didn’t know, tossing away money on drinks and trinkets—all for a good cause. They didn’t care that most of the men on display weren’t perfect, but they appreciated a real man over an unapproachable Chippendale poser.

A few might get lucky. The woman who bought his company knew she was the most likely to score. The ones who were regulars of the event knew that and came prepared to pay big bucks for the “privilege.”

Cody didn’t mind obliging, because giving a woman a great time was as close to a real relationship as he’d ever allow himself to have.

Until Tara.

Still, for all their honesty about their mutual needs, he’d held back the part of himself he could never share with another human being. The part that painted him ugly, the core of him that kept him a loner who sought companionship only when his needs grew too strong for a little one-fisted rub to assuage.

She’d gotten under his skin. Made him wish for things he could never have. The closer he’d been drawn, the harder he pushed back, acting like a horned toad on Viagra whenever she was watching.

Tonight he’d answer the challenge in her eyes with a reminder of what he really was. He’d give the lucky winner a ride she’d never forget and then make sure Tara knew all about it. Just to put their tenuous relationship back on track.

The empty chair beside him scraped as it was jerked back, pulling Cody from his thoughts.

Joe Chavez slid into the seat. Joe’s buddy, Logan Ross, took the empty seat opposite them both.

Cody narrowed his eyes, wondering whether he had any outstanding tickets because he sure hadn’t a clue why two deputies would be ponying up to his table. “Tables all filled up?” he muttered and then took another sip of his beer.

Both wore their deputy’s tan uniform shirts, black pants, and cream-colored cowboy hats, but they’d left behind their holsters. Both were dark haired, dark eyed, and deeply tanned, Joe’s skin having a slightly darker cast due to his Mexican blood.

Cody had to admit the ladies were going to go wild with these two. Good thing he was coming up next. Still didn’t explain what they were doing at his table.

Logan’s lips pressed together as though he was trying not to laugh.

Joe gave Logan a withering glare and then eased his expression as he turned back to Cody. “We’ve got a question for you.”

“
He
has a question for you,” Logan said, sitting back with his arms crossed over her chest. “I’m just riding shotgun.”

Cody narrowed his eyes further. “What do you wanna know?”

Joe cleared his throat. “Sarah Michelson. You got anything goin’ on with her?”

“Sarah?” Cody’s lips twitched. That was twice tonight that “Sweet” Sarah’s name had come up. “No. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering. She did follow you into the men’s room.”

“Sarah was a little toasted and lost her way,” he drawled, noting the way Joe’s shoulders tensed and wondering if he was about to be asked to step outside.

“I heard Oscar had to chase you both out of the same stall.”

Cody shrugged. “Okay, you’ve got me. I didn’t ask her to leave when she followed me inside. Gonna arrest me for something?”

“Just wanted to know if she was taken,” Joe said, his voice deepening, tightening.

Oh, she’d been taken, all right, but probably not in the context Joe was trying to clarify.

Cody leaned back in his seat, relaxing his posture and hoping the other man would lighten up as well. Tonight wasn’t the night to start something. “You thinkin’ about askin’ her out? She’s not too keen on cops.”

“Heard that. I haven’t been around these parts long, so I thought I’d ask you why.”

Was he really here just to get a little information about a girl? “You know her daddy’s the judge, right?”

“Yeah, heard that, too.”

“Well, the judge is pretty evenhanded. No special privileges, even for his own blood. Sarah gets a little wild now and then, but she doesn’t like her daddy knowin’ everything she does. She can get a little huffy when she’s threatened with being hauled into his court.”

“She follow many men into the bathroom?”

“Can’t say as I’ve ever heard her pull that one before.” Cody canted his head to the side. “Is that all you wanted to know?”

Joe shrugged. “What are you doing in the morning?”

Cody’s eyebrows shot up. “Why, you askin’ me out?”

Logan snorted and barely hid a smile behind the beer he lifted to his mouth.

“No,” Joe said, aiming another killing glare at his friend, “but we figure you’ve been around here a while. We just hired into the department. Figured because you know your way around these parts, you might take us hunting.”

Cody narrowed his eyes on the deputies, wondering what they were up to. As long as he’d hung his hat in these parts, he’d never had a single male friend. Never been hunting with anyone other than fellow ranch hands when work was done for the day, never even been asked to grab a beer.

Still, their expressions didn’t seem to harbor any kind of trap. “Sounds fine.”

“We’ll meet up here in the morning.”

Cody nodded.

Logan lowered his beer to the table. “So, why’d they put you second on the program? You seem kinda popular. Shouldn’t you have been the last one up?”

Cody gave them a wide smile. “Meaghan wanted to make sure the ladies didn’t hold on to their money all night waitin’ for me.”

Logan snorted. “Think a lot of yourself, don’t you?”

With the arch of one eyebrow and a slow, stretching grin, Cody said, “This is my fifth year. Some of the women are regulars. They come every year to bid on me.”

Logan snorted. “Must be some date they win.”

“I always aim to please,” he drawled.

“You’re up, Cody!” Meaghan shouted out.

“Gentlemen.” He set his beer down and straightened, forcing a smirk on his lips as he headed toward the door.

Meaghan handed him a bottle of baby oil as he approached her. “Might want to use a little of this before you go out there, or you won’t make it to the stage. The women’ll slide right off.”

He leaned close to Meaghan, noted the sharp intake of breath with satisfaction, and whispered, “Now, darlin’, what would be the point of that?”

Cody reached the door just as the strains to “Wild Thing” blasted from the speakers. He shook his head, a wry grin tugging at his lips.

“Ladies, get your money ready! Up next is that cowboy you all know and love,
Cody Westhofen
…”

The rest of the introduction was lost in the surging roar.

Feeling a little like a rock star in a very tiny venue, Cody pushed through the door and into the crowd.

The women were on their feet, chanting, “Cod-ee! Cod-ee!” He snuck a hand around the neck of the woman nearest him and bent to press a quick kiss to her smiling lips; then he lifted his cowboy hat high in the air to prevent it being snatched and strode through the bodies, pressing ever closer.

Walking through so many grasping women wasn’t any stroll in the park as hands reached out to stroke, pinch, and fondle him. By the time he’d reached the steps to the stage, he regretted turning down Meaghan’s slippery oil.

His smile firmly in place, he strode to the center of the stage to stand under the hot spotlight. He didn’t give them any sexy bump ’n’ grind, didn’t court their bidding with any “come ’n’ get me” flutters of his fingers.

Cody already had them in the palm of his hand. Any encouragement would be overkill. Instead he tucked his thumbs into his pockets and slowly scanned the crowd.

Tara ground her teeth, watching Cody standing in the center of the stage, not moving a muscle, confidence oozing from every pore.

As the bidding rose, fast and furious, his smile crimped into a smirk that only encouraged them further.

His self-assurance rankled. Did he think he was God’s gift to women?

By the excited squeals and whistles piercing the air, she thought maybe he had a right to his high opinion of himself. His upper body gleamed with a light sheen of sweat, the stage lights emphasizing the swell of powerful muscles and deepening the shadows beneath them. His broad chest and ripped abs drew every feminine eye. The sharp edge of his square jaw flexed, and she felt a sigh blow between her own lips as her gaze snagged on the wry, sexy curve of his mouth.

Without moving any of his amazing muscles, the man was inciting a crest of orgiastic bliss among the women eager to win him.

Did she really want to pluck him out of their grasp? What did she really hope to gain? It wasn’t like he wouldn’t show up on her door a few days from now with a lopsided smile and a teasing glint in his eyes.

With the handle of her bidding paddle stuffed into her back pocket, she had second and third thoughts about what she intended to do, not wanting to become a part of the spectacle surrounding the furious bidding war erupting around the room.

“Oh. My. God!” came an excited whisper beside her. “Do you think they’d let us pool our money to buy him?”

Tara sent a glare to the women beside her.
Shit.
Maybe she didn’t even have a hope in hell of outbidding this determined crowd.

She began to back her way out of the room when Cody’s roaming glance landed on her.

His gaze held hers, challenge ripening in his narrowed eyes. Then he puckered his lips and blew her a kiss before letting his glance slide away to find another mark.

In an instant, Tara knew spontaneous combustion wasn’t any urban legend. Like a noxious solar flare, heat exploded in her face, seeping down her neck to her chest. She sucked in a deep, furious gasp and reached for the paddle in her pocket, whipping it high into the air.

“We have five thousand from the lady who owns this bar! Do we have fifty-five hundred?”

Several paddles darted into the air, but Tara didn’t care, she kept hers held high, never letting it dip as bidding continued. She no longer heard the amounts, ignored the stinging glares pointing her way, and lifted her chin in defiance when Cody’s gaze slammed into hers.

In the end, no one stood a chance against her fury.

“Sold! To Tara Toomey!”

Tara blinked as the noise from the crowd died down around her. Curious gazes slid from her to Cody.

“Well, what are you waitin’ for?” the moderator drawled. “Come claim your cowboy!”

Tara’s eyes widened, sliding to Oscar, who shook his head in disgust. Then she caught Meaghan’s openmouthed dismay. What the hell had she just done? She’d spent a small fortune on a man who didn’t give a damn about her. Worse, she’d exposed her lust for him to people who respected her.