Sweet-Loving Cowboy (Kinky Spurs 2)

The cowboy suddenly tugged the rope harder, twisting her leg into an unnatural position. “Seriously,” she snapped. “I’m a real person, you know.”

Again, he ignored her, only tugging harder to win the game.

Harper wisely kept her face turned toward the drum set on the stage. If Brody noticed her flinch of pain, this dude wrapping her up like a Thanksgiving turkey would be knocked flat on his ass. As it was, Brody barely tolerated these games, only doing so because Harper once told him if he did not back off, she would enter the wet T-shirt contest that Megan had at the Spurs every once in a while. That shut Brody up for good.

The cowboy squatting over her yelled “Done.” He threw up his hands, declaring himself the winner.

The crowd roared even louder in appreciation of his talents. Harper wanted to pluck out his eyebrows one by one. She lay on the floor like a prized calf that no one claimed. In attempt to free herself, she rolled onto her side, only to roll back onto her belly. “You have got to be kidding me.” She sighed, then she spotted familiar dark purple cowboy boots. “Megan,” she called.

Those boots came in her direction. Megan squatted by Harper’s face and smiled. “He just kinda left you, huh?”

“Please help me,” Harper grumbled.

Megan laughed and began untying the rope. Once free, Harper scraped her dignity off the floor and rose, rubbing her wrist where the rope had been. Megan’s mouth twitched, but her eyes outright laughed.

“That guy is a huge jerk.” Harper took a quick look at her wrists, spotting the thin red line. That mark better fade quick or that cowboy would get an introduction to Brody’s fist. She glanced at the cowboy, gathering up high-fives from the other contestants on his win. Double jerk.

“Are you okay?” Megan asked softly, drawing Harper’s attention back to her concerned eyes.

Of all the bosses that Harper ever had, Megan was the best. Harper supposed that had something to do with the fact that she and Megan had become close over these past months. “Yes, I’m fine, even though I’m considering putting a laxative in his next beer.”

Megan chuckled and winked. “Please don’t.” Not missing a step, she grabbed the microphone from the back pocket of her jean shorts, turned it on, then addressed the crowd, “Congratulations to our winner.”

Done with her part in the game, Harper jumped off the stage, discovering Brody sitting next to his beyond sweet, blue-eyed, blond girlfriend, Faith, who he had been dating since high school. With Emma tending the bar, and the slight sting of Harper’s wrist reminding her the red line had not faded, she spotted the overflowing garbage bin near the kitchen door. She quickly tied the string and yanked the bag out of the bin before replacing it with a fresh bag. When she entered the kitchen, Antonio was dancing, as usual, in front of the grill, with the other staff hustling around him. Harper smiled. Even if she’d grown tired of being used like she was cattle for the entertainment of others, she was going to miss this place in a bad way.

Once she reached the back door, she unlocked the deadbolt and shoved the thoughts aside, doing what she had been doing since she made the decision to move to Las Vegas. She took one step forward, then another, then another, which was how she had managed after her parents died.

The warm summer air brushed across her face while she moved toward the dumpster near the back parking lot, bringing the not-so-pleasant scents of the city and trash with it. The night was eerily quiet. Her cowboy boots clicked against the pavement, the air seemingly unmoving, not even a tree rustling. She glanced next to her, toward the dark alleyway, her increasing heart rate demonstrating the fact that she had clearly watched too many horror movies lately.

Just as she reached the dumpster, a high-pitched cry stopped her. When the sound pierced the air again, she dropped the garbage bag, charging forward. She grabbed her cell phone from her back pocket, clicking the flashlight button and then, holding her breath to avoid the putrid stench, she peered into the dumpster.

Two frightened, barely opened eyes stared at her.

“Oh my God. No.” She stood on her tiptoes, soon realizing she was too short to reach inside the dumpster. “Help!” she screamed, glancing around for a box, a crate, anything to reach the puppy inside.

Footsteps thundered, coming toward her.

“Harper.”

She glanced sideways, finding Chase running in her direction. “God, Chase, come here. Quick.” He was six-foot-two. Surely, tall enough to reach inside. Her voice shook, tears making her eyesight blurry. “There’s a puppy inside the dumpster. I can’t reach it.”

Chase stood on his tiptoes, easily reaching into the dumpster, and Harper guided his way with the flashlight. The puppy’s cry pierced the air again as Chase grabbed hold of him. The moment he had the puppy out, Harper discovered three things. The dog was a boy, looked to be a full-bred chocolate Labrador, and he was barely alive.

She touched his head gently, scared to hurt him. He looked so little, so fragile. His eyes were shut. He was utterly limp, lifeless. “Oh, God, Chase.”

“Go inside, Harper.” Chase held the puppy in one hand, examining him. “Call the police. We need to report this.”

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

He unbuttoned his shirt and tucked the puppy inside against his body, holding him tight to his chest. “I’ll take him to the vet’s.” He spun on his heels and sprinted toward the road. “Go, Harper. Now.”

With a fire burning in her belly to catch whoever did this, she ran for the bar’s door.

Chapter 3

Across town, at the River Rock Animal Hospital on Main Street, waiting on news of the puppy in the reception area, Chase stretched out in a black plastic chair. His nose wrinkled at the harsh scent of the sanitizing product in the air. Leah, River Rock’s small animal veterinarian, had taken the puppy into the back seconds after Chase stormed through the doors. Afterward, Chase considered all the things he would like to do to the person responsible. Not only for the puppy, but also for the pain that person caused Harper. Those tears had made him drive like the devil chased him to the vet clinic. The puppy had to live. No matter what.

The news on the flat-screen television hung up near the receptionist desk mentioned that a thunderstorm was rolling in later tonight. Chase took off his cowboy hat, placing it onto the chair next to him, running his hands over his face. No matter how mu