Come Closer, Cowboy

Ten minutes and a dozen margaritas later, she took a quick gulp of cold water and straightened her back. She’d been hunched over the blender for most of the evening. Why had she suggested a margarita? Of course it became the popular choice of the night. For the women mostly. Thank God for beer-drinking cowboys.

Using the back of her wrist she pushed the hair off her face. So much for her nice, neat ponytail. She looked up just as the door opened and saw it was Ben and Grace. Awesome. Mallory had no qualms about putting Ben to work until they were caught up. She liked his girlfriend and might’ve hit her up, too, but Grace was the sheriff. Asking her to serve drinks didn’t seem kosher.

Mallory caught their attention and motioned them over. Ben responded with a nod. The smile of relief died on her lips when she saw the dark-haired man directly behind them. Her heart jumped wildly.

Gunner?

Couldn’t be.

Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely breathe. The glass she was holding almost slipped through her trembling fingers before she set it down.

How was this possible? He knew Ben, sure. Probably better than she did. They’d worked together sometimes and occasionally drank at the Renegade. But they were both loners and to call them friends would be a stretch. Or that’s what she’d thought.

Dammit. She didn’t need this, not now. Not ever.

They were making their way through the crowd, lingering here and there, when someone stopped to chat with Ben or Grace. But Gunner, from the second his eyes found hers, hadn’t looked away once. He just kept staring, his mouth curved in a tight smile that lowered her body temperature by ten degrees.

He needed a haircut and he clearly hadn’t shaved in several days. His face looked darker, from weeks in the hot Argentinian sun. Or from anger, maybe.

Goddamn Ben. Why hadn’t he said anything to her?

She pretended to mess with the blender, using it as an excuse to stare down while she struggled for composure.

“Excuse me? May I get some quarters?” It was the same blonde who’d started the run on frozen margaritas. She laid a five on the bar. “For the jukebox.”

Quarters. Mallory dried her unsteady hands. She had a tin of them somewhere. The hell with it. She opened the register and dug out some coins. “Here you go,” she said, stacking them on the five-dollar bill. “Keep your money.”

“Really? Thanks.” The woman scooped them into her palm, then turned and bumped into Gunner. “Oh,” she said, tilting her head back to look up at him. “Hello.”

Without a word, he stepped back to give her more room, his gaze remaining locked on Mallory.

“Go ahead. You can have him, too,” Mallory said, as they played the staring game.

The blonde giggled. Gave a breathless sigh. Did the hair toss. Moistened her lips.

Yep, Gunner Ellison was in the house.

Of course Ben had always received his fair share of female attention, as well. But Grace carried a gun so it probably wasn’t much of a problem in Blackfoot Falls.

After an awkward silence, the woman slipped away. Ben and Grace left a couple who’d stopped them and were headed for the bar.

Tension cramped Mallory’s neck and shoulders, but she refused to break eye contact with Gunner.

Jesus, one of them had to say something.

“What a surprise seeing you here,” she said finally, just as Grace slid onto a barstool at the end of the bar.

“I’m sure it is.” His cool assessment didn’t waver. Oh, he was pissed, all right.

“Hey.” Mallory turned to smile at Grace. And then Ben when he came up behind Grace and put his hands on her shoulders. Even though he was a traitor and they’d have words later. No. He couldn’t have known.

“Wow, you’re busy,” Grace said. “Please. Just ignore us.”

“She will.” Gunner leaned an elbow on the bar and gave her a lazy smile. “Mallory’s good at that.”

“I need drinks over here,” Elaine called out from the tap at the other end, her patience clearly slipping.

“Sorry.” Mallory hurried over, embarrassed to see the waitress busting ass filling mugs and pitchers, and scooping up glasses of ice. Mallory glanced at the first two drink tickets and grabbed bottles of tequila and rum from the shelf.

Dammit, she’d planned to ask for Ben’s help, though she wouldn’t now. Better he keep his guest busy and away from her.

She poured two shots, head bent, letting loose strands of hair hide part of her face before she slid a look down the bar.

Gunner wasn’t there.

Where the hell—?

“Move over.” His rough palm on her arm made her jump. “I’ll get the mixed drinks.”

“No, thanks,” she said, refusing to budge. “We’re fine.”

Elaine turned her awestruck look from Gunner to glare at Mallory. The message was clear—Accept his offer or I’ll kill you in your sleep.

“Fine.” Mallory barely got the word out before he’d put his hands on her hips and moved her over a foot.

He set the drink tickets in a row so he could easily read them, lined up glasses, for both cocktails and shots, dispensed ice cubes in one fluid motion, then went to work pouring and mixing.

As soon as Elaine left with her loaded tray, Mallory took over the tap. She told herself that standing near him was nothing. How many times had he helped her on busy nights at the Renegade? Fifty? Sixty times? Probably more.

Except, back then, they hadn’t had sex yet. She hadn’t known the hot, bone-melting feel of his mouth on hers, or experienced the sweet rough texture of his tongue as he licked a path to her breasts.

And then making her wait. And wait. Her tightened nipple aching so badly she’d thought she would go crazy before he finally sucked it into his mouth.

After that he’d kind of lost it, too, impatiently stripping off her panties then lowering his mouth...

Mallory shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She exchanged a filled mug for an empty one and pressed an ice cube to her throat. “It’s hot in here,” she muttered.

He gave her a faintly mocking smile.

“Shut up, Gunner. I mean it.”

Beer foamed over the mug’s rim and spilled onto her hand. It took two tries for her to shut off the tap. She swallowed a string of curses as she grabbed a clean rag and mopped up.

“Excuse me.” A pretty redhead was looking at Gunner. “What nights will the band play?”

“Ask the boss,” he said, nodding at Mallory.

“I haven’t found one yet, and the stage needs more work. But I’m hoping to have live music soon.”

“Thanks.” The redhead didn’t care. She’d only wanted an excuse to talk to Gunner.

It was a familiar scenario. Women were always drawn to him. Mallory hated that she cared.

“You have dartboards in the back, but I don’t see any darts.” Again, the woman addressed Gunner, then leaned over the bar for a look. “Do you have some back there?”

Mallory doubted she’d find them behind Gunner’s fly.

He kept pouring drinks but glanced at Mallory. “Sweetheart, where are the darts?”

She sucked in a breath. “Right here,” she said, and stooped to open a lower cabinet. He’d never called her that before, and she didn’t know what game he was playing. She straightened and handed over the box of darts. “Sorry about that.”

A look of disappointment on the other woman’s face cheered Mallory, making her twice the fool. If Gunner had intended to mislead the redhead, it was only because he wasn’t interested. Or he had his eye on someone else.

Mallory glanced around the room. Lots of pretty women had turned out, mostly in pairs or groups. And now some of them were starting to line up at the bar to get their drinks directly from Gunner. Great. Just great.

After she filled two pitchers, she walked over to Ben and Grace, who had settled in. They were busy talking to people but she felt bad she hadn’t even offered them a drink.

She waited for a break in the conversation and asked, “What can I get you guys?”

“Don’t worry about us,” Grace said, at the same time Ben said, “Beer.”

Grace leaned back and gave him a look.

“Hey, I was going to offer to help,” he said. “But it’s too crowded back there. At least Gunner seems to know what he’s doing.”

Mallory hesitated. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me he was coming.”

“He wanted to surprise you.”

“Ah.” She knew what kind of beer Ben drank and got a bottle from the fridge. “Grace? Beer? Wine? I have both red and white, but they’re just okay.”

“Beer’s fine,” Grace said, and grabbed Ben’s bottle before he could.

He just grinned and stole a kiss.

Mallory couldn’t help smiling. They were the most adorable couple. Ben had changed. She didn’t know whether it was because of Grace or Blackfoot Falls, or maybe it was a combination of the two, but he seemed more relaxed, certainly happier.

Something made her turn her head. Gunner was watching her. She lost the sappy smile and got a second beer from the fridge. Before she twisted off the cap she said, “Grace, maybe you’d like Gunner to make you a mai tai?”

“A what?”

“Or some fancy blended drink.”

Ben laughed and took the bottle from Mallory. “Don’t piss off the help, especially when it’s free labor.”

Grace just smiled and gave her a curious look.

Mallory winced. She’d have to watch her tone. “Well, I’d better get back to work.”

Elaine was garnishing the drinks Gunner had made and grinning at something he said. Mallory spotted two tickets with beer orders and she slid in to man the tap.

“I can deliver these pitchers if you tell me which tables,” she told Elaine, who’d been moving nonstop.

“Nah, I should be back by the time you’re finished.” She hefted the loaded tray and nodded toward the stage. “The mug is for Mike. I’m pretty sure he’d rather you take it to him,” she said with a mischievous smile before heading for the back room.

Mallory sighed. What was it with Elaine and Sadie? Why were they trying to fix her up with him?

“Who’s Mike?”

She looked at Gunner. For a few wonderful, blessed moments, she’d forgotten he was there. “A guy who did some carpentry work for me.” Gunner turned his head and she saw that his hair was touching the collar of his blue polo shirt. He never let it go like that, not even when he was away working for long periods of time. But damn he looked good.

“The guy sitting alone to the left of the stage?” he asked, turning back to stare at her.

“What?”

“Is that Mike?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t looked for him. What do you care, anyway?” She noticed a couple sitting near Ben trying impatiently to get her attention. Damn. Her grand opening and she was going to chase everyone away.

She felt Gunner watching her as she went to get refills. Those mesmerizing gray eyes still got to her every time. When she’d first met him when she was sixteen, she hadn’t been that into boys yet, but she remembered thinking he was the hottest guy she’d ever seen. He’d been twenty-one at the time so of course he’d barely noticed her.

For weeks he’d come to the bar almost every day. Then he’d disappear for a month. She’d known it was partly his job that kept him away. But when a year had gone by without him making a single appearance, she’d figured that was it...she’d never see him again. And then out of the blue Gunner had started showing up, three or four times a week when he wasn’t away on location.

By then she’d turned twenty-one and was working full-time at the Renegade. A year later her dad had died unexpectedly. An aneurism, the doctor had said. No apparent cause. Mallory had figured all the hard living had caught up to him. Bitter that his stunt career had been cut short, he’d drank a lot, smoked anything that was rolled and screwed any woman who’d let him. He wasn’t so different from a lot of the stunt guys who’d helped keep the Renegade in business.

Of course many just had one or two drinks then left to go home to their wives. Gunner fell somewhere in the middle. He’d done some hell-raising in his twenties but not lately. And while he could drink with the best of them, only twice had she seen him truly drunk.

Mallory slipped past him to get to the tap, and thankfully, Elaine returned at the same time. Questions burned in Gunner’s eyes, but no way would Mallory deal with them now. Or ever, if she had her say.

“You didn’t take Mike his beer,” Elaine said, and then briefly eyed Gunner as if she’d just realized he might be the reason. “Never mind. I’ll go.”

Mallory watched her pick up the mug. She should’ve just taken it to Mike and thanked him for coming to the opening. But she couldn’t do it in front of Gunner. It was stupid. But somehow she knew she’d fumble.

She felt those stormy gray eyes on her again. She turned and met them full-on. “What?”

He gave a slight shrug before looking to see if Elaine had left a ticket. She hadn’t. It was the first lull of the night. He picked up a dry bar rag and wiped his hands.

“You need a haircut.”

“I was too busy leaving voice mails.”

Drawing in a deep breath, she avoided his gaze by checking the bowl of lime wedges. They still had a lot. She looked up and saw Mike lifting a hand. She smiled back at him.

Two tables to his left, she noticed a young woman who’d applied for the waitress job. Mallory couldn’t recall her name, but Elaine would know. If the woman was willing, Mallory would hire her on the spot.

Either way, there was no need for Gunner to stay.

She was about to tell him so when she felt pressure around her waist.

It was Gunner.

Behind her. His hands sliding down to cup her hips.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” he said, trying, though not very hard, to move her to the right. “I need to get more glasses.”

Without making a fuss, she managed to push his hands away. “Touch me again and I’ll—” Okay, that might’ve been too loud. She clamped her lips together.

“What? Hmm, Mallory?” he whispered with a half smile. “What are you going to do? Move to Alaska?”

3

GUNNER KNEW HE shouldn’t have come tonight. It was a dick move. Yeah, he was still pissed at Mallory. But he didn’t want to screw things up for her. She probably already had first-night jitters.

“Excuse me,” she said through gritted teeth and forced him back a step at the risk of losing his toes.

Those were some heels on her black boots. They looked new. And kind of sexy. Normally she wore a low-heeled tan pair that were pretty beat-up. And the clingy red top and tight black jeans? He’d never seen them before. At the Renegade she’d worn nothing but T-shirts and faded denim. And sometimes a flannel shirt in the winter.

The guys sitting at the bar all watched her walk to the other end, their gazes lingering on her ass before taking in her long legs. It annoyed the shit out of him.

On second thought, why should he worry about making her nervous? She’d done this to herself. All she’d had to do was return just one damn call. They could’ve talked, got everything out in the open. Not that he thought there was anything to hash out. The world hadn’t ended just because they’d had sex.

And he sure as hell didn’t remember holding a gun to her head. Mallory hadn’t held back. Sure, the booze played a part, but they hadn’t drank that much. He’d done a lot of thinking on the drive to Montana. Mallory had downed three quick shots in a row, but the tequila hadn’t had time to kick in before they’d started kissing.

Okay, maybe she’d needed the liquid courage. If so, it sure had worked. She’d moaned so loud when she came he was surprised she hadn’t set off the neighborhood dogs.

Gunner watched her lean over the bar and gesture to something in the back. With her bent at that angle, the guys were more interested in looking down her V-neck top than what she was pointing at.

He had to turn away. His insides were churning and he didn’t trust himself to stay cool. If he caused a commotion, she’d never forgive him.

With more elbow grease than was necessary, he finished cleaning up his mess and let the sink fill with hot sudsy water while he poured himself a beer. Damn, he wanted something stronger. That would have to wait. After she closed, maybe they could sit down like two adults and figure this thing out.

“We have a dishwasher,” Elaine said, setting down her tray and watching him lower glasses into the steaming sink.

“It’s too small for this crowd. It’ll be okay for normal nights.”

“Obviously you’re a friend of Mallory’s,” the petite brunette said. “I’m guessing you’re from LA, but you’re not a bartender.”

“You got customers complaining about the drinks?”

“I should’ve said you don’t look like one.” Her gaze roamed his shoulders, his chest, then down to his boots. “With that tan, you must spend a lot of time outdoors. And you sure didn’t get those arms from pouring whiskey. You could be a cowboy, I suppose, but I don’t think so.” She met his eyes and laughed. “Honey, I’ve got a husband and two teenagers. I took this job to get away from them, but I still love all three of ’em to death. So don’t you worry, I’m just nosy.”

Gunner dried his hands and took another pull of his beer. “There’s a tanning salon at the gym where I work out.”

Elaine’s frown eased to a grin. “You’re just piling it on, aren’t you?”

He glanced over to see what was keeping Mallory. “Now, why would I do that?”

“Wait. You came in with Ben, so I’ll bet you’re a stuntman out there in California.”

“That’s one possibility.”

“Although...” Elaine squinted at him as if the right guess came with a thousand-dollar prize. “It sounds like you got a trace of Texas in your voice.”

Bullshit.

Gunner plunged his hands into the sudsy water—the very hot sudsy water—and bit back a curse. Hell, he’d left home at fifteen and wanted nothing to do with Texas. The dirty stinking town where he grew up was only half the size of Blackfoot Falls. So if your mom was the town tramp, everybody knew it.

A customer called for Elaine and she picked up her tray. “You’d better be nice to me,” she said, grinning. “I’m the only person standing between you and your fan club over there.”

He didn’t have to look to know which table she meant. The three women were from San Diego and staying at the Sundance Ranch. They’d been driving him nuts. He didn’t go for the hair-twirling, lip-licking crap.

That was one great thing about Mallory. She didn’t play games or work at being sexy. Of course with those big green eyes, generous mouth and killer body she didn’t have to do anything.

So why the new clothes? She had no business looking hot as hell. Was this her turning over a new leaf? Making a fresh start? Had she been trying to get away from him? All she’d had to do was tell him to get lost.

One of the Sundance women had a thing for Blake Shelton, and had “Honey Bee” on repeat. Once he got the glasses washed he was gonna unplug that damn jukebox.

“It seems we’ve died down a bit.” Mallory’s voice startled him. “There’s no reason for you to stick around. Go be with Ben and Grace.”

He drained his beer and looked at her. She was close. A couple feet away, her eyes full of uncertainty. “You look nice.”

“Thanks.” Her gaze flickered and lowered. “So do you.”

“We have to talk.”

“Please, Gunner. Not here. Please.”

“You don’t return my calls.”

“I know. But I was busy getting moved out of the Renegade and then—” She shook her head, looked away. “You’re right. I have no excuse. I should’ve talked to you.”

“Damn right you should have.” He was getting worked up again, seeing her hang her head like a whipped dog. Looking as if he’d treated her badly. She was in the wrong, not him.

“Pardon me, but could I get another rum and Coke?”

Gunner recognized the husky voice before he glanced at the flirty redhead. “Just a minute,” he said and turned back to Mallory.

She stared back at him for a second and then rolled her eyes. “Is that with a lime?” she asked the woman and grabbed the rum.

“Yes, lime, a wedge on the rim and another squeezed in the drink. And no offense, but I really like the way he makes it.”

Mallory darted him a look, the expression on her face not one he’d seen before. When she finally smiled, it didn’t fool him. She seemed sad, and he didn’t understand why.

To get rid of the redhead, he stepped in and made her drink. Mallory turned and before she could walk away, he said, “Hey, don’t run off.”

She just glanced at him as she bent to check the dishwasher. He slid the rum and Coke toward the woman and went to Mallory. He almost reached for her hand, but thought better of it. Part of him wanted to comfort her, the other part was having trouble controlling his temper.

“Why?” he asked, careful to keep his voice low. “Just tell me why.”

“Gunner...” Her head down, she opened the dishwasher. Steam poured out. He caught her arm to pull her away just as she jerked back.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I thought the heat cycle was finished.”

“Let me see,” he said, brushing the hair away from her face.

“I’m fine.” The warning tone in her voice was enough. She didn’t have to flinch from his touch.

Anger flared inside him, and then simmered to concern when he noticed the red blotch. “You have a small burn,” he said, nodding at her chin.

Her hand shot to her cheek.

“Closer to your—” Screw it. He directed her unsteady fingers to the spot. “Where’s the first-aid kit?” The one she’d kept at the Renegade had been put to good use.

“I don’t know. I’m still unpacking stuff.”

“I saw a store on the way here. I’ll go—”

Mallory shook her head. “Everything is closed by now.” She probed around the reddened skin. “It doesn’t feel bad. I’ll be okay.” Turning toward Ben and Grace, she gave them a self-conscious smile. Then she looked at Gunner again and the soft expression in her eyes told him right then and there he’d done the right thing by coming to Montana. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”

“Tell them?” His confusion took a second to clear. “Christ, give me some credit.” Shaking his head, he picked up the pile of tip money people had left him and stuffed it in Elaine’s jar on the back shelf.

“Where are you going?” Mallory almost sounded like she cared.

He knew better. “To find a friendlier bar,” he said, and almost plowed into Elaine as he headed for the door.

* * *

GUNNER HAD JUST finished his first shot of tequila when Ben entered the Watering Hole. Figured he hadn’t been far behind. The place was dead except for a pair of pool players in the back and a table of old-timers laughing at each other’s lame jokes. He wished they’d keep it down.

“Hey, Nikki,” Ben said as he took the barstool next to Gunner.

The pretty, dark-haired bartender stopped restocking the fridge and turned. “Hey yourself,” she said. “What can I get you?”

Gunner pushed his empty shot glass toward her.

“Beer for me,” Ben said, and inclined his head at Gunner. “He’s buying.”

“Sure.” Gunner snorted. “Why not? In fact, pour something for yourself, darlin’, and put it on my tab.”

Nikki glanced at him, smiled at Ben, then got his beer and Gunner’s shot.

“You might as well leave the bottle,” Gunner said when she turned to put the tequila back on the shelf.

“Nope. I don’t do that.” She leaned a hip against the back bar. “How’s Mallory holding up?”

Gunner grunted and tossed back the liquor. He felt Ben staring at him. Of course he was going to have questions. And Gunner had no idea what to tell him.

“She’s doing all right, considering she should’ve had two more waitresses working,” Ben said. “Gunner was helping make drinks until a few minutes ago.”

The bartender gave him a curious look. “I’m Nikki McAllister,” she said, leaning forward and shaking hands with him.

“Gunner.” He saw a gold wedding band on her finger.