Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders 11)

“Where else are you ticklish?”

“My feet.”

Ava frowned. “Lie. I’ll bet you’re most ticklish behind your balls. I bet I can prove it.”

You’re on. Let’s test your theory right now.

No. No. No. No.

“Ah, Ava, we’re not playing the game anymore.”

“Oh. Shoot. Everything is spinning anyway. I just really need to go to sleep now. Nighty night.” She started down the hallway, stripping clothes as she bounced from wall to wall like a slow-moving pinball.

The seven—or was it eight?—shots hit him full force. The hallway became a tunnel-like funhouse mirror. Distorted. Sideways. He stretched his arms into a T and put one wobbly foot in front of the other.

He had to stop and grip the doorframe leading to the bedroom when he saw Ava sprawled face first on the mattress. Would you lookit that. He might be drunk, but he wasn’t f**kin’ blind.

The sweetest, tightest, most delectable ass he’d ever seen—and he’d seen more than his fair share of nice asses—just begging to be caressed. Kissed. Squeezing those perfectly round globes as he hiked her hips up and slid his c**k inside her.

As he took another step, he tripped over a shoe, or his own damn feet, and went skidding across the carpet. The room spun as he rolled to his back, blinking at the ceiling.

The bed jiggled. Soft, fragrant strands of hair teased his chest and then an angel’s face was suspended above him.

“Cowboy? You all right?”

“Uh. Yeah.”

“Do you need help getting up?”

“No. I never need help getting it up. That’s my problem.” He laughed. Hard. No idea why because it wasn’t particularly funny, but Ava must’ve seen the humor because she busted a gut right along with him. After wiping the tears from his blurred vision, he mumbled, “I’m actually pretty comfy. I might just crash here tonight.”

“No. Come up on the bed. There’s room.”

Chase rolled to his knees. Clambered on the bed. The last thing he remembered before he passed out was Ava slurring, “Pillow fight!”

Chapter Six

“What in the hell is goin’ on here?”

Ava didn’t recognize the voice, the loud voice, reverberating in her skull like a jackhammer. She shifted on the mattress and felt the warm weight of something on her butt.

Turning her head required effort, but somehow she managed and found herself staring into Chase McKay’s handsome face. Wait a second. How had she ended up in bed with the sexy cowboy? When he’d reiterated that he wouldn’t sleep with her?

“Earth to Ava,” a feminine voice trilled.

Now that voice she recognized. Ginger.

Ava reached down and removed Chase’s hand from her ass and rolled onto her back. Bright sunlight from the window stabbed her retinas and she groaned.

Chase stirred. His leg repeatedly rubbed against hers, sending goose bumps dancing up her thighs.

“Chase. We have company.”

“Get rid of ’em. Christ, I have a headache.”

She poked him in the ribs until he turned over.

Kane was crouched by the bed, looking slightly amused. “Serves you right, Chase, for drinkin’ all my goddamned whisky.”

Chase jackknifed, and his hands flew up to cradle his head. “Ow. Fuck. Yell in my ear again, cuz, and I’ll give the whisky right back to you in another form.”

Kane laughed.

“So you’ve been here a day and you’re already sleeping together?”

Ava finally looked at Ginger. “No.”

Ginger arched an eyebrow.

“I know what it looks like. But Chase and I are just friends. Right, McKay?”

“Yeah, but you and me ain’t never drinkin’ together again.”

Her answering laugh sent a spike of pain to her brain.

Chase scooted back to rest against the headboard and glared at Kane and Ginger. “Woulda been nice if you’d told us that we’d be roommates. Teenage Ninja Turtle over there almost killed me.”

“Oh please.” Ava yanked the sheet to her waist as she sat up. “Like it wasn’t ten kinds of scary for a city girl to be out in the middle of nowhere, woken up in the dead of night by a half-naked guy wearing a big hat and carrying a duffle bag that has ropes in it.”

“I sure as shootin’ didn’t have on my cowboy hat when I was headed for bed.”

“That’s not how I saw it.”

“I don’t know how you saw anything since your eyes were half-covered by a fancy piece of pink fluff.”

“I call bullshit on that. You’re just—”

Kane whistled shrilly and both Chase and Ava winced. “Enough. Don’t be blaming me or my wife, because we kept your secrets. We only realized this morning what’d happened, which is why we’re here.”

Ava looked at Chase. She didn’t like scruffy whiskers on men, but on him? A whole ’nother story. Gave him a harsher edge. Toned down his almost too-perfect good looks.

Why don’t you just write the man a f**king sonnet?

God. What was wrong with her? She never got moon-eyed over a guy. Never.

Chase frowned at her. “Why are you starin’ at me?”

Lie. “You’ve got a serious case of bedhead.”

“You oughta talk. Your hair looks like you stuck your hand in a bug zapper,” he shot back.

She reached for the ponytail holder on the nightstand and began to twist her unruly hair into a messy bun. “Better?”

But Chase’s eyes weren’t on her makeshift hairdo. His gaze was firmly glued to her br**sts shifting beneath the tight tank top. He swallowed hard. But he didn’t look away.

Aha. So the cowboy was a breast man. She’d live in cle**age-enhancing shirts if it’d make him rethink his “just friends” mindset.

“Maybe we oughta get dressed,” Chase suggested, staring at her ni**les. “In long sleeves. It appears to be cold in here.”

Damn smartass man.

“Good idea,” Kane said. “We’ll be in the kitchen.”

She’d forgotten Ginger and Kane were in the room.

Chase set his feet on the floor and scooped up his clothes. He muttered, “I don’t remember getting undressed.”

“Me either.”

He squinted at her over his shoulder. “I take less time in the bathroom so I’ll go first.”

“Fine.” Soon as she heard the bathroom door close, she jumped up. Ooh. Too fast. Made her woozy. She slipped on a pair of Capri-style yoga pants and her Santa Clara community college sweatshirt.