Wrangled and Tangled (Blacktop Cowboys 3)

Listening to their rodeo exploits had her laughing so hard she had to rest her forehead on Skeeter’s shoulder to catch her breath. Somehow his palm ended up on her lower back.

“Maybe y’all better let me in on the joke, ’cause it looks awful damn funny.”

Tierney jumped at hearing Renner’s voice. How long had he been standing behind them? “Hey. I wasn’t expecting you.”

“Obviously.” Renner looked pointedly at Skeeter. “Mind getting your hand off her?”

“What?”

“Your hand. Get it off her ass. Now.”

“Oh. Oh! Sure. No problem, man.” Skeeter pushed away from Tierney, making room for Renner.

Everyone already knew Renner. The conversation turned to rodeo stock, competition, and droned on. After a half hour of mind numbing shoptalk, Celia mouthed “bathroom” and they slipped away.

Once they were in line, Celia said, “I need a cigarette. Stupid goddamn no-smoking laws.”

“Maybe you should track down one of those smokeless tobacco girls to sate your nic fit.”

“Ha ha. Smart-ass. Wish I never woulda started smokin’.” She let her head fall against the wall. “Look. I’m sorry. For the record, I didn’t tell Breck my plans because I wanted this to be girl time. I get so sick of his entourage. The man cannot go anywhere without his cowboy posse.”

“Renner’s been off doing his thing all day too.” She frowned. “I didn’t tell him my plans. How did he track me down?”

“Fuckin’ spies everywhere, that’s how. Did you notice the second they parked their Wrangler butts at our table it was all about them?”

“I’m used to it. When Renner walks into a room of rodeo contestants, he’s swarmed and forgets I’m even there.”

“Does it piss you off?”

“Now that I think about it . . . maybe. A little. And what was up with his, get your hand off her ass now show of testosterone? And then he ignores me completely?”

“Men suck.”

They moved a couple of feet in line and she glanced up to see Celia studying her. “What?”

“I’m thinkin’ a little payback is in order.” She smiled cheekily. “You up for some fun and games?”

“What kind of fun and games?”

Celia’s eyes gleamed. “The kind of fun that’ll get us noticed. The kind of games that’ll make them sweat and make them hard.”

An odd tingle prickled in her belly. The idea of showing Renner she made her own fun . . . really tripped her trigger. “I’m in. What do you have in mind?”

“A little girl-on-girl action.” Celia laughed. “You oughta see your expression. We’ll get friendly, but ain’t like I’m gonna stick my hand down your pants or nothin’.”

The lady in line behind them harrumphed and stomped off.

Tierney fought the urge to grin and to cringe—at the same time.

“Just follow my lead. It’ll just be a dirtier type of dancin’ and drinkin’.”

And dirtier said it all.

After fortifying themselves with another shot, Celia dragged Tierney onto the dance floor for Lady Gaga and Beyoncé’s duet “Telephone” and taught her more sexy moves—shaking her booty, rolling her hips, swaying her upper torso to the beat—than any of the classes she’d taken.

The DJ kept playing sexy dance tunes. When “Honky Tonk Badonka-donk” came on, Celia playfully slapped her ass. Tierney snatched Celia’s long braid, wrapping it around her hand, pulling Celia against her body in a dominant move that caused Celia’s eyes to widen . . . just for a second.

Then Celia gyrated her hips with her arms in the air, rolling her shoulders and chest as she used Tierney’s body as her personal stripper pole. “Whip My Hair” started, and Celia bent Tierney over and used her braid as a whip on Tierney’s butt. After the dance ended, they formed a train with Celia in front and Tierney holding on to Celia’s hips. Tierney murmured, “Look at their faces,” and Celia let out a throaty laugh.

Skeeter stood up and clapped when they reached the table.

Davy wolf whistled.

Michael toasted them with his beer.

But Renner?

Not so amused.

Kyle?

Not so amused.

Breck? Highly amused. He drawled, “Ladies, you gotta be parched after such a fine display of dancin’. Any drink you want is on me.”

Tierney leaned her elbows on the table, zeroing in on Celia’s cle**age. “How about a . . . Slippery Nipple?”

“Jesus, Tierney, how much have you been drinkin’?” Renner hissed.

She gave him the cold shoulder.

Celia took the end of her braid and slowly outlined the skin bared by Tierney’s sweetheart neckline. “Oh. I don’t know. I was thinkin’ something more sweet and tangy.”

“And a little sticky?” Tierney asked silkily. “I know exactly what you want.”

“Because it’s what all women want. A long tongue licking that moist section of skin. A greedy-sounding gulp as the thick liquid warms the throat. And finally,” she breathed, “a firm bite on the tender flesh until it erupts in sweet juice that flows down your mouth and chin.”

None of the guys said a word. Tierney was pretty sure they’d stopped breathing.

“Any of you fellas wanna take a guess on what that is?” Celia asked huskily.