Blazing Bedtime Stories, Volume VIII

That’s my girl?

His words echoed in her head and her throat tightened. In all their meetings on the topic of Pete Gunner, her boss had never mentioned anything about a significant other. Just a long list of temporary flings while he was on the road, including a week with a recent Country Music Association award winner and a few weekends here and there with a Victoria’s Secret pinup.

She thought of the margarita that wasn’t really a margarita and the Yorkie named Tinkerbell. Maybe Pete Gunner wasn’t half the badass he pretended to be.

Just as the notion struck, a grizzled voice echoed in her ears. “The name’s Eli,” said the old man who stepped up next to her. “Why don’t you follow me up to the house and I’ll help you get settled into a room?”

Settled? She shook her head. “No, thanks, Eli. I’ll be leaving shortly. I just need to get that contract back from Pete and then I’m on the next cab out of here.”

He belted out a laugh. “First off, darlin’, there ain’t no cabs around these parts. And second, if you’re thinking to disturb Pete, you’d better think again. When he’s with DeeDee, he don’t like to be bothered.”

“Which one is she? The singer? The lingerie model?”

“Hell’s bells, gal, DeeDee ain’t no singer and she sure-as-hell ain’t no dad-blasted underpants model.” The man laughed again, his belly shaking with the effort this time. “She’s his horse.”

“EASY, GIRL.” PETE SOOTHED the animal and gathered the slippery bundle in his arms for one more tug. The animal gave a loud snort and the foal slipped out in a tangle of arms and legs.

He handed over the animal to the vet who’d driven out for the occasion and turned his attention back to the black cutting horse stretched out in front of him.

DeeDee whinnied and lifted her head before settling it back down on a pile of straw.

“I know, girl.” Pete stroked her smooth flank. “You’re plum tuckered out.”

He knew the feeling. Six hours of sleep and he could still feel the exhaustion tugging at his muscles. Which made no sense whatsoever because Pete Gunner was the friggin’ Energizer bunny. He’d pulled all-nighters time and time again. Hell, he’d be pulling one tonight once the celebration for Wade’s birthday got under way. They had fireworks. Barbecue. Music. It was going to be one hell of a party and he was damned excited about it.

His heart sure wasn’t pumping overtime because of Wendy.

Sure, he liked the way she smelled and the way she wiggled her nose when she slept and he even liked her smart mouth. Despite the fact that she wanted something from him, she wasn’t the least bit anxious to impress him. A fact that stirred his curiosity.

But not his lust.

At least that’s what he tried to tell himself for the next few moments as he soothed his tired horse.

Seriously, she was a pain in the ass. Sneaking onto his bus. Cornering him in the shower. Bullying him while he ate his pancakes. Following him all the way home. Just who did she think she was? All she had to do was send him the damned papers and he’d sign them. He would sign them.

Not this set in particular, of course. His gaze went to the discarded paperwork lying next to DeeDee and the slimy substances blurring the words. He’d meant to be more careful, but then DeeDee had crowned and he’d forgotten everything except the foal. Western would just have to send out another one.

Then he would sign. Probably.

And then it was on to another PBR title, even if half the world expected him to give it up once he had the Western money in his pocket. That’s what battered veterans did. They gave in to their aches and pains, signed endorsements and stepped aside to give the newbies their shot. Not Pete. Bull riding was his thing. The one thing that had kept him going in the early days when having his own ranch had been just a pipe dream and he’d been living in a trailer in Lost Gun with his five-year-old brother and his alcoholic mother. She’d rammed her truck into a telephone pole on the way to the liquor store when he was barely sixteen. He and Wade had been on their own ever since.

But he’d made it. He’d started riding in local rodeos for whatever purse had been offered, and he’d kept riding all the way clear to his first championship. And he’d kept going after that, not just because of the money, but because when he was on the back of that bull, he felt as though he was in control of his life, a master of his own destiny, and that meant everything to a kid who’d watched his mother slip away night after night, powerless to stop her downward spiral. She’d taken him and his brother down with her, until Pete had managed to climb atop that first bull.

“Everybody’s comin’ tonight,” Wade said, effectively drawing his attention and distracting him from his thoughts. “Even Ginny.”

Ginny Hooker was the daughter of J. R. Hooker, the local sheriff and the meanest son of a bitch Pete had ever had the misfortune to run into. J.R. was strict, holier-than-thou and he hated the Gunners and the Lost Boys.

A feeling that had been born way back when Pete was thirteen and he’d “borrowed” old man Riddle’s horse and ridden it down Main Street, right up to the fountain in the town square. The animal had taken a crap just inches from the water and J.R. had hated him for that ever since. Even worse, Pete had taken in a handful of lowlifes—at least that’s what J.R. called them—and given them a second chance.

The Lost Boys had been just that at one time—lost, lonely, destitute. Boys without a home or a family or a purpose. Pete knew what is was like to be alone and struggling, and so he’d given them a place to stay and a chance to make something of themselves. They were now the hottest riders on the circuit and the family he’d never had.

J.R. didn’t see it that way. He despised the Lost Boys, and Pete even more for being their leader.

Rightly so. The whole town knew that Pete went out of his way to yank the sheriff’s chain. Partly because J.R. was a pompous ass who thought he was better than everyone, but mostly because it was just so much fun.

Why, he would have ridden DeeDee down Main Street tonight if she’d been in any kind of shape.

Pete held tight to the thought, ignored the crying in his shoulder that told him he wasn’t going anywhere except into another hot shower and arched an eyebrow at his brother. “Does J.R. know his pride and joy is coming out to our place tonight?”

Wade frowned and handed Pete a blanket for DeeDee. “Probably not, but it doesn’t matter. Ginny’s almost eighteen. She can do what she wants. And James will be here.”

James was J.R.’s oldest son, Ginny’s older brother and a once-upon-a-time bull rider. Pete had trained with him way back when and they’d actually forged a friendship based on mutual respect. A fact which made J.R. hate Pete that much more.

“Besides,” Wade went on, “the sheriff might not like me now, but that’ll change. Once Ginny and I get married and have kids—”

“Wait a second,” Pete cut in. “You’re not telling me—”

“No, no. We’re not getting married now, and we sure as shootin’ ain’t having a kid. But after she graduates college and I win the PBR finals, it’ll be time. We won’t let anyone stop us then.”

“After you go to college and then win the PBR finals,” Pete added, relief washing through him.

“Ain’t that what I said?”

“No, you said Ginny was going to college and you were going to the PBR finals.”

Wade shrugged. “What difference does it make?”

“It makes all the difference in the world. I already told you, you’re not climbing onto a bull in a professional arena unless you’ve got a degree under your belt. That was our agreement. I’ll teach you everything I know while you go to school, but you’re not hitting the circuit until you graduate.”

“About that …” Wade started and Pete shook his head.

“There’s no ‘about that.’ You’re going to college, Wade. We already talked about this.”

“I’m much better with bulls than I am with calculus.”

“All the more reason to stick it out. Just because something’s tough doesn’t mean you quit.” Their mother had quit on them by drowning herself in a bottle, an example Pete never intended to follow. “We don’t quit.” He eyed his brother. “You and me, we never quit.” Not back when he’d been dirt-poor with a six-year-old depending on him, and not now that he had his own spread and a great career.

When his little brother didn’t look half as certain as Pete felt, he added, “I bet Hooker would be even more inclined to come around if his daughter was settling down with a college-educated bull rider.” Not that J.R. would ever come around as long as Wade’s last name was Gunner, but Pete didn’t want to say that. Not when Wade looked so hopeful.

“You think so?” Wade asked.

“It’s worth a shot. That is, if you really like this girl.”

“I don’t like her, Pete. I love her.” Wade said the words with such conviction that Pete almost believed him. Except that Wade was young, his hormones raging, and it was too damned easy at his age to mistake lust for love.

What’s more, Pete didn’t necessarily believe in love. Not the give-it-all-up, do-anything-and-everything-to-hold-on-to-it kind that people wrote about in books and bad country songs.

Lust?

Now that he believed in.

He pictured a certain stubborn marketing executive and his groin tightened. Okay, so maybe he was lusting after her. How could he help himself? They had chemistry. Fierce. Immediate. Inexplicable.

While he couldn’t begin to understand the pull, it was still there. Burning him up from the inside out and making him want to forget everyone and everything and take her to bed right here and now.

If only Wendy was a here-and-now kind of hookup. She’d watched her father live in the fast lane, however, and so she’d put the brakes on in her own life. She was settled now, and he wasn’t. Settling down meant slowing down in Pete’s book, and that was the last thing he ever intended to do.

Even if his aching shoulder had other ideas.

No, as much as he wanted to, he wasn’t sleeping with Wendy Darlington.

“We’ll talk about all this later,” he announced, eager to get out of his own head and forget the damned heat licking at his nerve endings. He finished covering DeeDee with the blanket and pushed to his feet. “Right now we need to get cleaned up.” He grinned and winked at his younger brother. “It’s time to party.”

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