The Sheriff's Secret Wife

It had been years since she’d danced with the girls, but she still had the moves. Moves he was intimately familiar with. It wasn’t until the music stopped that he managed to get his breathing under control. Now she was going to—

Racy held up the empty glass. “Anyone else want one?”

She laughed when the crowd shouted in agreement and surged forward. Gage immediately sought out his sister. Relief filled his chest when he found her against the back wall with another waitress and one of the bouncers.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Racy’s singsong voice called out over the crowd, pulling Gage’s attention back to her. “Seeing how my tip jar is getting low, I think we need a special….”

The regulars in the crowd knew what was coming and roared their approval.

Damn, it was getting warm in here. Gage yanked down the zipper of his bomber jacket, desire tightening his chest.

“Now, what I need is a very thirsty cowboy, but not just any cowboy.” I need someone with all the right moves … who is willing to part with his money!” Racy held aloft the empty shot glass. “The going rate for a Racy Special is one hundred dollars. Do I have any takers?”

Despite the absurd price, there were plenty of men willing to part with their cash. When word spread just what a Racy Special included, even more hands shot into the air.

He couldn’t believe she was still pulling this stunt.

“So many choices.” Racy dropped her voice to a throaty rumble. “The tall, dark and handsome stranger in the back.” She waved at a man who moved through the crowd toward the bar. Gage zeroed in on him, noting he was everything Racy said. “You got the cash, honey?”

The man smiled and held up a hundred-dollar bill between two fingers. Gage caught something familiar in his face. Did he know this guy?

“What’s your name, sugar?” Racy asked, taking the money and making a show of tucking it into the deep V of her top.

“Chase.” The man’s deep voice carried over the microphone.

“You’re not one of our locals, Chase,” Racy said. “Don’t tell me you’re a University of Wyoming Cowboy?”

Racy’s question brought more cheers as the band broke into “Ragtime Cowboy Joe,” the university fight song. The University of Wyoming in Laramie was less than an hour’s drive south, and The Blue Creek was a favorite among the college crowd.

“It’s a few years since my college days,” the man said when Racy stuck the microphone under his nose again. “I’m from Texas.”

“Oh, Texas … love that Southern drawl.”

Gage thought he was going to puke.

“Okay, let’s give a paying customer some room.” Racy waved away the bar patrons, who moved back into the crowd, taking their drinks with them. She traded her empty shot glass for one filled to the brim, then slowly turned to face the cowboy.

“That’s it?” he asked, looking up at her on the bar.

“Oh, no, I’m not done with you yet.”

Gage’s gut tightened into a painful knot.

Racy backed up and crooked her finger, motioning the cowboy to join her. He grinned and easily climbed up on the scarred wood surface.

From this angle, Gage couldn’t see the man’s expression, but he could imagine what he was thinking with almost six feet of toned, sexy female standing right there in front of him.

“Now, sweeties, you hold on to me while I hold on to this,” Racy said, before handing off the microphone and raising the shot glass over her head.

Gage’s hands curled into fists as the crowd roared its approval when the music started again.

Racy once again put her arsenal of bumps and grinds to good use as the cowboy took her in his arms in a modified two-step. She didn’t spill a drop while they moved in a timeless rhythm that would’ve been blatantly sexual if they’d been horizontal.

A hot jolt of something he refused to label raced through Gage’s veins as he watched. A rush of pent-up air escaped his lips when the music finally ended and the crowd applauded.

Racy spoke but he couldn’t hear her words as the cheering grew louder when the cowboy nodded. She motioned to the bar where a saltshaker and wedge of lime sat on a small tray. With one hand on his shoulder, she directed the cowboy to his knees.

“Now, a Racy S-special isn’t just a s-shot of Mexican blue agave tequila reposado.”

Her voice shook as she spoke, the crowd now hushed. “To do this properly you need the right inducements.”

Gage mentally nailed his boots to the floor. It took every ounce of his willpower not to march downstairs and yank her ass off the bar. What the hell was she trying to prove? Hadn’t she learned—

Wait, did she just look up at him?

She pulled in a deep breath, her voice strong again as she swung her long curls off the face with a practiced toss of her head. “Let me demonstrate. The rest of you are welcome to watch so you can try this in the privacy of your own home.”

Taking the saltshaker from the cowboy’s outstretched hand, she raised her left wrist to her mouth. Gage could’ve sworn she was staring right at him as her tongue left a damp path on her skin. She then held the arm and sprinkled salt over the area.

Moving closer, she balanced her salt-encrusted arm on his shoulder and held the shot glass inches from his mouth. Piercing whistles and catcalls raced through the crowd.

“Don’t make me laugh, ya’ll, can’t spill good booze.” Racy addressed the crowd before turning her attention back to the cowboy. “Okay, sugar. You’re welcome to take your shot whenever you’re ready.”

Again, her gaze lifted to her overhead lights. No, that wasn’t right. She was staring up at the balcony. At him.

The cowboy remained still for a long moment. Then he rose, ignoring her salt-covered skin and tossing the lime over his shoulder. Leaning forward, he captured the shot glass with his mouth, tipped his head back and downed the booze in one swallow before releasing the glass into his hand.

The crowd cheered and the band went live with a rocking country song when the cowboy lifted Racy’s hand to his mouth and kissed it before jumping back to the floor.

Gage found himself torn between respect for the guy and the urge to tear the man’s heart out of his chest.

Lucky bastard.

Racy tried to concentrate on the computer screen. Chase Cartwright’s words, whispered before he’d jumped off the bar, still rang in her ears. At first, she’d had no idea what he was talking about. Then he’d winked and said if she needed any help making her guy jealous, he’d be in town for a couple of weeks.

Her guy? Yeah, right.

She’d mumbled thanks and spent the rest of the night trying to justify to herself why she’d done it. Had it been worth it? She wasn’t sure Gage had seen her performance. Keeping an eye out for him the rest of the night had produced nothing. If he was in the bar, he’d managed to stay hidden.

Until closing time.

She and Max had decided to close up an hour early due to a surprise snowstorm predicted to accumulate several inches. After the staff had cleaned up, Gina had given her a hug goodbye. Racy had quickly picked up that she was upset.

When she had pressed, thinking it was job related, Gina had said her jailer was waiting to take her home. Powerless not to, she’d looked and found Gage’s hard stare directed at her.

Too far away to see his eyes, his clenched jaw and his arms folded over his chest told her either he’d indeed witnessed her entire act or he was still pissed about his sister working here.

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