Cowboy Take Me Away (Rough Riders 16)

“I’da remembered a fox like you.”

She smiled. “You spend much time at the Spur?”

“More than I should, probably.” He sipped his beer. “What’s your name, pretty lady?”

“Sugar,” she lied. “What’s yours?”

“Tater.”

“Interesting name. Are you from around here, Tater?”

“Yep. But I’m on the road a lot.”

“Oh. Are you a truck driver?”

“Nope. I’m a rodeo cowboy.”

Carson’s choice words about the guys who ran the circuit jumped into her head and she affected an awed look—totally fake—not that the guy noticed. “For real? What’s your specialty?”

“Ropin’.” Then he launched into an explanation of the strategy involved that was complete crap.

Carolyn saw movement in the back room. Carson stood to let the dark-haired home-wrecker out of his side of the booth.

The band launched into “Your Cheatin’ Heart”.

How appropriate.

Despite the rage boiling her blood, she managed a calm, “Tater, I feel like dancing.” It’d been a couple of years since Carson had taken her out. Since before Colby had been born.

“Anything you want, darlin’.” He reached for her left hand—it felt weird not only to have her ring finger bare, but to hold another man’s hand besides Carson’s.

Tater didn’t smash her body to his or let his hands wander. He was all about the dancing, performing all sorts of twists and fancy turns, dips and double twists. By the time they returned to the end of the bar, she was thirsty.

“Need another?” the bartender asked her.

“Water would be great.”

“And a Coors,” Tater said.

The bartender sent him a dirty look. “You oughten be here tonight, Glanzer. Shouldn’t you be home with your family?”

“Not your business. Just hurry up with the damn drinks.”

Okay. That was rude. And what did the bartender mean that Tater should be home with his family? Was he married with kids? Good Lord. Maybe this bar had become the place to openly cheat on your wife. When Carolyn caught him salivating over her cle**age, she fought the urge to cross her arms over her chest.

The band launched into another tune and couples headed for the dance floor.

“You’re a good dancer, Sugar.”

“Thanks. So are you. You have all kinds of moves I’ve never seen.”

Tater leaned in, his eyes zeroed in on her br**sts. “I have more moves than that. I’d love to show you the best ones. Course, those are done horizontally.”

And…they weren’t talking about dancing. Her cheeks flamed and she looked down. But her gaze landed on his gigantic buckle.

“Like what you see down there?”

Her head snapped up.

He laughed, as if he’d caught her checking out his crotch.

The bartender slid her drink over and handed Tater a bottle.

Carolyn was trying to come up with something that’d make Tater leave when someone pushed into her from behind, sending her careening into Tater. The glass crashed to the floor but not before water soaked her front side. It seemed everyone in the bar had turned around to look at them.

“Damn. Are you all right?”

She glanced up when Tater brushed droplets from her chest. Why was his other hand gripping her butt cheek? There wasn’t water back there.

“Get your f**king hand off my wife’s ass right f**king now.”

Tater released her immediately. “Wife? What the hell is goin’ on here?”

Carson was right in Tater’s face. “Yes, she’s my wife. Touch her again and I’ll rip your f**kin’ arms out of the sockets. Understand?”

“Sugar, you shoulda told me you were married. Not that I blame you for bein’ out lookin’ for something better, since this guy is an ass**le.”

“Shut your mouth,” Carson snapped.

“Or what? You’ll punch me? Bring it, f**ker. I ain’t been in a fight for weeks and I’m more than happy to take out that pent-up aggression on you.”

Carson shoved him.

Tater started to charge but a big guy stepped between them, placing a meaty hand on both of their chests.

“Take it the f**k outside or I call the sheriff. Dig?”

After snagging his beer, Tater started walking backward. He grinned at Carolyn. “Fun while it lasted.” He vanished into the crowd.

Immediately Carson wrapped his fingers around her upper arms and hauled her to the tips of her boots. “What the f**k are you doin’ here?”

“Having a night out.”

“Like hell you are. Get home where you belong.”

“No.”

“Tryin’ my patience, woman.”

“Your patience?” Carolyn jerked out of his hold. “Spare me. I’m the queen of patience when it comes to you. So where’d your friend go?”

“Who?”

“The woman I saw you with earlier. I didn’t quite make it to the back booth to see if she was sucking you off or if you preferred to f**k her.”

Carson’s eyes widened.

“Surprised to hear me say that word?” She stepped in close enough to poke him in the chest. “Fuck, f**k, f**k, f**k, f**k, f**k, f**k. Fuck her and f**k you if you’ve been f**king her. How’s that? Did I get the f**king point across you f**king cheating ass**le?”

“I’d never…” His face had turned mottled red and he looked ready to commit murder.

The bouncer returned and inserted himself between them. “Ma’am? Are you okay?”

“No, I am not okay. Not even close to okay.”

“What can I do?”

“If you could get me some napkins so I can dry myself off that’d be appreciated.”

“Sure thing. Be right back.”

Carolyn reclaimed her place at the bar, giving Carson her back, thankful there weren’t mirrors so he could see her face.

He didn’t make a move toward her. Nor did he speak. But she sensed him seething.

Good. Let’s see how you f**king like being ignored, you dumb f**ker.

Another guy moved into the open space on her left. “Ma’am. You all right?”

Lord, save her from gentleman cowboys. “I’m fine. Just spilled on myself.”

“That happens to me too when I drink tequila.”

She released a brittle laugh. “Wish I could blame it on booze.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”