Corralled (Blacktop Cowboys 1)

“Hank?” she answered breathlessly. “What’s up?”

“News, but promise me it’ll stay under your hat.”

“Fine. Spill it fast because I’m short on time.”

The noise in the background sounded like she was at a rodeo. “I scored another audition with the EBS.”

She squealed. “Seriously? That’s awesome! When?”

“A couple of weeks. Once I’m done with Cowboy Christmas.”

“They couldn’t get you in sooner?”

“Bryson asked if I’d be available for the Huntington Beach event next week, but I can’t. I’ve already committed to—”

“God, Hank, why can’t you let Gilly navigate the CRA trail on his own? It ain’t like he’s a rookie.”

He scowled. Would she ever get over her beef with his buddy? Probably not. The girl held a grudge like nobody’s business. “I’m not goin’ on the road as a favor to Gilly. Truth is, I’m doin’ this for me.”

“For the money?”

“Partially. But the more bulls I can get on the next three weeks, the better my chances in the EBS.”

“Unless you get stomped by one and blow your goddamn big chance,” she retorted.

“Thanks for the confidence, sis,” he groused.

“I have the utmost confidence in you, bro. It’s the bulls I don’t trust. That said, I really am excited for you.”

“I know you are. Remember, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Not even Abe?”

“I’ll tell him.”

“You’d better. But I’m afraid he won’t be as thrilled. Come to think of it, if you do get picked, it’ll be more work for me at the ranch. Maybe I oughta be rooting for the bulls.”

Hank laughed softly.

“Glad I amuse you. Shit. I’m up. Later.”

He said, “Up for what?” to the dial tone. He glanced at the time. Damn. He’d been outside for thirty minutes. Not only hadn’t he said hello to Lainie yet—and wouldn’t she be surprised to see him—but he’d left Gilly hanging. Too bad he hadn’t introduced them before he’d taken the call. He headed back inside.

The flashing lights from the stage show inside the honky-tonk screwed with his eyes. Hank blinked a couple times, scanning the tables. The band wailed a decent cover of Billy Currington’s latest love song.

He stopped at the bar and ordered three Coors Lights. Hank felt like a fish swimming upstream, juggling three bottles of beer as the people rushed off the dance floor after the tune ended. He’d made it to the table he’d spotted Lainie and her friend sitting at earlier, but there was no sign of her now.

Huh. Hank looked around the bar. No sign of Gilly either.

His gaze wandered to the dance floor. One couple hadn’t left yet, oblivious to the fact the music had stopped. They were twined together, mouths fused, body pressed to body.

Hank squinted. Hey. Wait a minute. Was that . . . ?

Holy f**king shit. That was Lainie—his Lainie—in a clinch with some happy-handed cowboy.

Fury filled him. He’d f**king lay the bastard out cold. Come on, ass**le—show me your face so I can figure out where I’m gonna put the first bruise.

Then the loser in the cowboy hat kissing Hank’s goddamn woman lifted his head.

Not just any cowboy had his hands and mouth on Lainie; Gilly had his hands and mouth on Lainie.

Hank’s stomach dropped. And so did the bottles of beer.

Lainie and Gilly looked at him at the same time the raucous crowd broke into applause at his clumsiness.

The cocktail waitress snapped, “Maybe you oughta think about drinkin’ one at a time, buddy.”

But he couldn’t tear his eyes off them. Tempting to punch his buddy in the kisser for kissing her. Equally tempting to pull Lainie outside and ask her what the hell was going on.

The couple stopped right in front of him.

Hank calmly said, “Lainie, sweetheart, I was gonna introduce you to my good buddy Gilly, but I see you two have already met.”

Chapter Two

No way. This isn’t happening. Any second, my alarm will blare and I’ll wake up. Wake up and laugh hysterically.

“Hank, you know Mel?” Kyle asked.

Wake up, wake up, wake up.

“Intimately. Except I know her as Lainie. Right, darlin’?”

Any second now, the buzzing would jar her straight out of a dead sleep. And boy, wouldn’t she welcome that intrusion for a change.

Kyle frowned. “Why is that name familiar?”

“Because that’s her name, dumb ass,” Hank snapped. “Lainie Capshaw. She’s a med tech with Lariat Sports. Is that ringing a bell?”

Comprehension dawned. Kyle’s head whipped toward her, his jaw nearly hanging to his championship belt buckle. “Your name isn’t Mel?”

Shit. Busted. She was so freakin’ busted.

Kyle faced Hank. “You’re with her too?”

“Too?” Hank repeated. He didn’t spare Lainie a glance. He shoved Kyle. “You’d better be f**kin’ kiddin’, Gilly.”

“Don’t f**kin’ push me, Lawson.” Kyle pushed Hank back.

Broken glass crunched beneath their booted feet.

“Back off,” Hank snarled.

“You back off first.”

“Not a f**kin’ chance.”

Kyle sneered, “Bring it, ass**le.”