Unridden: A Studs in Spurs novel (7 page)

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Slade grinned.

Mustang scowled.

Meanwhile, Jenna scribbled furiously and then looked up at them both. “Thank you so much for agreeing to help me. I mean I hear the announcers talking about ‘the draw’ and then ‘the draft’ and I don’t know the difference. Then there’s the ‘short round’ and the ‘long round’ and ‘into his hand’ and ‘away from his hand’.” She hesitated. “And I have other more…personal questions too.”

Intrigued, Slade couldn’t stop himself. “Like what kind of personal questions?”

Beneath the blue neon, as the waitress slapped down the pitcher and three plastic cups, Slade could have sworn Jenna blushed at his question.

“Like, um. I see some guys wear helmets and some don’t and you all seem to wear those thick, stiff, protective vests, but do you also wear, um, cups?” She whispered the last word.

Across the table, Mustang choked again on the beer he’d poured and taken a gulp out of just as Jenna asked that question. You’d think the man would learn not to drink while this surprising woman was talking.

Slade grinned at how embarrassed she’d become. Knowing exactly what she meant, he played dumb and asked anyway, “Cups? What d’ya mean?”

Red-faced and looking ready to crawl under the tiny cocktail table, Jenna mumbled, “You know, like a jock strap?”

Mustang, finally recovering from his coughing and sputtering, shook his head. “No, ma’am. We don’t wear cups.”

Taking a gulp of his own beer, Slade enjoyed seeing Jenna’s eyes open wide at Mustang’s answer. “You don’t? But there’s a lot of…bouncing and… I mean, it looks really dangerous. What if you get stepped on, you know, down there?”

“First of all, no little plastic cup is going to help any anyhow if a two-thousand-pound bull steps on you. Besides, I’ve been riding for six years and been stepped on plenty of times in many places and all my parts are still in perfect working order. Wanna see?” Mustang reached to release the well-worn Rookie of the Year belt buckle at his waist, teasing her.

“That’s okay. Maybe later.” She cocked a brow, bouncing back from her temporary bout of shyness to shoot Mustang down, which Slade enjoyed a bit too much.

Abandoning his belt, Mustang raised his plastic cup to her in salute. “Okay, later then. It’s a date. Oh, and in case you’re wondering, Slade here’s parts all work too. Most of the time, anyway.”

Slade frowned and narrowed his eyes at his supposed friend over that remark.

Avoiding eye contact with Slade, which he was kind of grateful for at the moment, Jenna nodded to Mustang. “Good to know. Thanks.”

Was she blushing again?

“You’re such an idiot,” Slade mumbled, before noticing she was back to writing. He pointed at her. “See, Mustang! Now she’s gonna write all that shit down.”

Jenna directed her attention back to Mustang. “
Mustang
. About that. How’d you get that name anyway?”

Jumping at the chance for revenge, Slade dove right in. “That’s simple. It’s because he’s hung like a horse.”

“Yeah, right. Very funny.” Jenna scowled at Slade and then turned to Mustang. “Come on. Really. How did you get the nickname? Do you own a Ford Mustang or something?”

“Nope.” Mustang grinned wide.

“Your first horse was a Mustang?”

Still grinning broadly, he shook his head at her once again. “Nope.”

“You are really named for the size of your…” Her eyes dropped to Mustang’s crotch before she yanked them back up.

Slade laughed at her. “Well, it’s not like his mama took one look at him naked in the hospital and named him that when he was born. His given name is Michael Jackson, but would you want to be a cowboy with the same name as that freaky pop singer?”

“Slade! Jeez. Thanks a lot.” Mustang scowled at him over the rim of his beer cup.

“What? I’m allowed to tell her about the size of your dick but not that your real name is Michael Jackson?”

Mustang scowled. “That’s right.”

Slade rolled his eyes and turned back to Jenna, who appeared to still be having trouble finding a safe place to look when he made eye contact with her. “Anyway, once Mustang here started riding he tried to go by Mike Jackson, but once we found out that everyone in his high school used to call him Mustang because one of the girls he had nailed commented on how big he was, the name stuck.”

Slade noted Jenna’s cheeks flush again as she listened to him before recovering her composure and saying, “Okay. Thanks.”

Mustang, apparently over the anger that Slade had outed him about his real name, turned to Jenna. “I’d be happy to show you, if you’d like. For your research.”

“Thanks. I’ll keep that in mind.” Still pink-cheeked, Jenna stared hard at her pad, flipping through the pages of scrawl again.

Slade sipped his beer and waited for her to find whatever she was looking for while he enjoyed watching her flustered.

“My head is spinning. I don’t have much time here in Tulsa, but there’s so much great stuff you two can give me.”

Mustang shook his head and laughed. “Oh, darlin’. You have no idea.”

She shot him an indulgent look. “I meant for the book.”

“Sure, for that too.” Mustang grinned charmingly, sliding her untouched beer cup toward her not so subtly.

“What do you have so far for this book of yours? Maybe we should start by taking a look at it,” Slade offered, anxious to get the conversation off of Mustang’s dick.

Jenna looked surprised at his suggestion. Hell, he was shocked as shit himself that he was actually interested, in both the woman and her book.

Slade realized this was probably the most conversation he’d exchanged with a female in years. Usually they skipped the talking part and went right from drinking to fucking, sometimes skipping the drinking portion altogether, depending on how willing she was.

Jenna reached into her bag. “I printed out what I’ve written so far. I know it’s a lot to ask, but could you take a look at it—just the bull riding stuff, and maybe some of the cowboy type stuff—and let me know if it’s accurate?”

Slade eyed the thick stack of printed pages, regretting he’d asked, as Mustang said, “Sure, we’ll read it. Let’s all three of us go on back to our trailer. The light’s better there and then we can all get comfortable while we read.”

She pursed her lips and shook her head in an excellent imitation of a schoolmarm. “I don’t think so. Besides, I don’t expect you to read it all right this minute. I can leave that with you and come back tomorrow night. Maybe we can talk again after the show is over?”

The show.
Slade smothered a snort at that. “It’s not a show. In fact, it’s not a rodeo either. You keep saying that, but there’s a difference. This here is a professional bull riders’ competition. More importantly, it’s the championship.”

“Bull riding competition championship. Okay. Got it.” She nodded, writing it all down.

Slade sighed at her constant note taking. The woman was like a damn sponge.

Meanwhile, Mustang leaned back so the beer sign illuminated the printing on the ream of paper she’d laid on the table, and started flipping through it. Suddenly, he burst out laughing. “Buck Wild? You seriously named your bull rider Buck Wild?”

She narrowed her eyes at Mustang. “Yes. So? It’s a romance novel. It’s supposed to be fun. Besides, a man named Mustang probably shouldn’t be picking on my bull rider’s name.”

Mustang laughed. “All right, I’ll concede that point, but you can’t fight me on this one. The bull’s not in an enclosure. It’s a chute. Or a bucking chute. Nobody, ‘cept maybe city folk, calls it an enclosure.”

Scribbling furiously, she wrote that down. “Good! Thank you. See? This is exactly the kind of stuff I need from you. That’s perfect. Can you make comments in the margins when you find mistakes like that?”

Not remembering the last time he’d written anything besides signing paychecks at the bank or autographs in the stands, Slade had to think if they even had a pen or pencil in the trailer. He didn’t think so. They had better swipe one from the bar.

While Slade pondered their lack of writing instruments, he noticed Mustang had gotten rather quiet, engrossed in the pages. Suddenly, Mustang’s eyebrows shot up into his hairline.

“You’re skipping right to the sex scenes, aren’t you?” Jenna accused, obviously noticing Mustang’s reaction too.

Sex scenes? Slade’s ears perked up at that. Hmm. Maybe he wasn’t sorry they’d offered to read this thing.

Jenna reached to snatch the papers back, but Mustang was faster and whipped them over his head and out of her reach. “No you don’t, darlin’. This here is the interesting part. Not realistic, but interesting all the same.”

Her eyes flew open wide. “What do you mean
not
realistic?”

Slade wondered the same thing, dying to get his hands on those pages.

Mustang rolled his eyes, referring to the papers again. “Come on. Women don’t come that fast or that easy. Trust me, I know. He barely touches her in this and she’s all
ooh, ahh, I’m coming
. Give me a break.”

Coming?
What the hell kind of books did this woman write? Slade had to clench his fist to stop himself from grabbing the papers from Mustang.

Jenna, the apparently naughty author, scowled. “Romance is supposed to be fantasy.”

Mustang snorted. “Oh, it’s fantasy all right. And the guy parts…” He shook his head, laughing.

Jenna crossed her arms, eyes narrowed at Mustang. “What, exactly, is wrong with the guy parts?”

Mustang waved the pages at her. “Men don’t think like this and men definitely don’t act or talk like this, especially in the middle of fucking...uh, I mean
making love
as you put it.”

Slade was seconds away from snatching those pages away from Mustang to see what the hell he was talking about.

“Oh really. So tell me, Mustang, since you’re so smart when it comes to men and women, what would you do differently?”

Mustang leaned forward in his chair, abandoning the pages on the table, but Slade was too intrigued in the live action now to worry much about the written stuff.

His face close to Jenna’s, Mustang kept his voice so low Slade had to lean in to hear what he said to her. “You want to know what turns a woman on, Miss Block? What’s the quickest way for a man to get her hot and wet in the panties?”

Jenna narrowed her eyes, but not before Slade noticed her look the tiniest bit shocked at the panty comment. “Do tell, since you’re such an expert.”

“It’s this.” Mustang reached out and lightly tapped her forehead. “A woman’s erogenous zone is right there, in her head. You write about touching this or kissing that, but foreplay starts in a woman’s brain. If a man can get in there, then all the rest is just a formality. Write about that, what’s inside, and don’t worry so much about who’s putting what where.”

Mustang let his finger trail slowly down the side of her face and across her lips before he broke contact and sat back in his chair again. Slade saw Jenna lean in and follow Mustang, like a compass arrow drawn to true north, before she cleared her throat and straightened up in her chair.

The man was a master at reeling them in, and for the first time since they’d been hanging out together, Slade felt a little bit jealous. Even though he knew he’d always be invited in on the action, this time, with this woman, Slade wished he’d been the one manning the fishing line instead of Mustang.

Slade watched Jenna’s throat work as she swallowed before saying, “It’s late. I better call a cab.”

Mustang shook his head, capturing and holding her gaze. “It’s not that late, darlin’.”

Jenna shook her head nervously. “I have a conference back at the hotel that starts at nine in the morning.”

Mustang leaned in close again. “Slade and I can drive you back to your hotel in plenty of time for your conference in the morning. I promise.”

She shook her head. “I can’t.”

Mustang’s face lit with a grin. “But you want to.”

It sounded more like a statement of fact than a question to Slade. It sure as hell looked like Jenna wanted to.

She swallowed hard again and without admitting anything, Jenna repeated. “I can’t.”

Mustang’s hand covered hers. “Give me one reason why not?”

Somehow the discussion had gone from book research to the subject of the three of them getting into bed or not in a blink of an eye. Slade hadn’t even noticed it happening, but something had. Somehow Jenna and Mustang were now negotiating sex. How the hell had that happened?

Jenna took a deep breath. “I’m not going to spend the night with the two of you because I’m not one of your bimbo rodeo—excuse me—
bull riding
groupies.”

“The groupies generally don’t ride the bulls, and they’re known as Buckle Bunnies. Might want to write that down for the book.” Mustang tapped the table near her pad while grinning at his own lame joke, before becoming serious again. “I knew you weren’t a bimbo the moment I saw you in the stands in your little black sweater, taking notes during a bull ride.”

“You noticed me?”

“Oh, yeah. Slade nearly got bucked off in the chute because I was trying to point you out to him while he was taking his wrap.”

Telling the truth to get a girl into bed, that was a new strategy for Mustang, and to Slade’s amazement it appeared to be working.

Jenna looked to Slade and he had to laugh as he confirmed the accuracy of Mustang’s statement. “It’s true.”

While she was digesting that, Mustang stood. “Get your stuff together, darlin’. Slade will get the bill and settle up here and then we’ll drive you back to your hotel.”

“No. I said I’d pay. And I can take a cab.” Jenna reached into her huge bag, searching for something, most likely her wallet.

“No. Ladies don’t pay. Besides, Slade’s ranked third in the world. He can afford to buy us one five-dollar pitcher of beer. And there’s no way I’m putting you in a cab alone this late when Slade has a perfectly good car sitting next door in the lot that he never gets to drive because it’s always being towed behind my trailer when we travel together.”

Jenna glanced at Slade, then went back to studying Mustang for a bit before she finally nodded. “Okay, I’d appreciate a ride to the hotel. Thank you.”