Looking for Trouble (Jackson: Girls' Night Out 1)

He hadn’t had sex with her this time, either, despite the way she’d climbed onto his lap and pressed herself against him. He wasn’t sure why he was so determined to protect her marriage. She didn’t seem to care all that much. Before he’d gotten fired from the ranch, Walker had told her they couldn’t do it because he worked for her husband, because they’d be doing it under the man’s roof, because he’d be fired if they got caught. But those things didn’t matter now, so why did he feel even less tempted?

Maybe she’d just picked the wrong meeting spot. The springs had reminded him of junior high, and swimming with girls who’d made his head spin with fascinated lust when sex had seemed unattainable and dangerously romantic.

Sex was no longer unattainable and there was nothing romantic about the danger with Nicole. She just made him sad. And he was worried that everyone at the ranch suspected. He’d been fired for yet another paperwork screwup, but being fired over paperwork wasn’t one of the most common stories told around a campfire. It had been an excuse. Walker had known that and so had his manager. Walker had no idea if that meant Nicole’s husband knew, or if it was a matter of rumors just becoming too much for management to ignore.

Whatever the reason, seeing her felt wrong now, but his refusal had seriously pissed Nicole off. Maybe she wouldn’t call again.

He felt only relief at the idea as he parked his truck in front of his apartment and got out. But instead of heading into the building, he crossed the lawn and walked toward the old saloon next door.

Truthfully, he missed the ranch. He missed his dog. He needed a drink, and fast.

“Hey!” Jenny Stone called from behind the bar as soon as he walked in. “You’re just the man I was looking for!”

Walker couldn’t help the wide grin that spread across his face. Jenny was a damn cute blonde. “Oh, yeah? Is there something Nate ain’t giving you, darlin’? I’d be happy to oblige.”

Jenny rolled her eyes. “You wish.”

“True enough. But I do try to steer clear of a woman whose boyfriend carries a gun. Tends to leave a mark.” He took off his hat and grabbed a stool.

“The usual?”

When he nodded, she drew a beer and shot a nervous look toward the back of the saloon. Walker turned to look, but the place was nearly empty at 3:00 p.m. on a rainy Tuesday.

She slid him his beer and leaned close. “You remember Charlie Allington?”

For a moment, Walker had no idea who Jenny was talking about. He’d worked with a damn lot of cowboys in his day, some who’d come and gone so quickly that he’d never even learned their names. “Charlie,” he repeated, looking for a memory. The one that popped into his head shocked the hell out of him. “Oh, Charlie! Of course.”

He and Charlie Allington—known as Charlotte only if you were trying to irritate her—had gone to high school together. In fact, she’d been his tutor for all of his junior year. “It’s been a long time,” he said.

“So Charlie is Nate’s cousin. Once removed or second cousin or however that works.”

“Is she doing okay?” Last he’d heard, she’d moved to Vegas for a big job.

“She’s great. She’s back in town, working at one of the Teton resorts as a security manager, and she called Nate to ask if he knew a place she could stay.”

“And you suggested my place?” he asked with an automatic wink. But he felt guilty as soon as he said it. The last time he’d seen Charlie she’d been a sweet teenage girl whose number-one interest had been the track team.

“Oh, I know your door’s always open, but I need something else.”

“What?”

She smiled and cocked her head. “A favor.”

He eyed her fluttering lashes su

spiciously.

“Rayleen has been complaining about the Stud Farm being invaded by a swarm of women.”

“I’d hardly call Merry a swarm.”

“Yeah, well, she’s still pissed that Grace moved out and talked Rayleen into letting Merry stay. She was hoping to pack the place with nothing but big hotties again this winter.” She nudged his elbow. “As usual.”

He gave her another grin. Old Rayleen owned the apartment building next to the saloon. She had a long history of only renting to young men, and since the house had once been the Studd homestead before it’d been broken up into apartments and modernized, the town had started calling it the Stud Farm.

Last year, Rayleen had reluctantly broken with her lecherous tradition and let her great-niece move in. Then her niece’s best friend.

“What does this have to do with Charlie?” Walker asked.