Corralled (Blacktop Cowboys 1)

A crowd gathered, anticipating a fight.

Should she jump between them and put a stop to this?

“Who’s up for a wet T-shirt contest?”

All eyes zoomed to Tanna, standing on a table at the front of the bar. She’d stripped to an itty-bitty see-through white tank top, which showed the outline of her ni**les in full detail, as well as the deep vee of her impressive cle**age.

Lainie’s gaze briefly connected with Tanna’s and her friend mouthed, Go! before she poured a bottle of beer on her chest.

Male whoops of appreciation echoed and Lainie ran as if the hounds of hell were chasing her. As she cut out the side door, her brain ran rampant with questions. What were the odds that both her men would show up here tonight? Or worse, that they’d know each other?

Stop thinking and run!

Boot steps slapped the pavement behind her. A hand landed on her shoulder, jerking her to a stop.

“Mel, please. Wait. Don’t run off. It won’t solve a damn thing.”

Breathing hard, she didn’t protest when Kyle whirled her around. No hint of amusement danced in his green eyes. His hands slid down to her arms and curled around her biceps, keeping her in place.

She braced herself for his recriminations. Angry words and accusations about her loose moral character would make it easier to walk away. Easier than admitting the truth: She wasn’t sorry for her hanky-panky with Hank or for getting her kicks with Kyle. She was just sorry she’d gotten caught.

“What’s goin’ on? I’m confused as hell,” Kyle said.

“That makes two of us.”

“No. That makes three of us,” Hank said as he sidled up beside Kyle.

Lainie tried to squirm out of Kyle’s gentle hold, but his fingers tightened.

“Let her go,” Hank said sharply.

Kyle’s eyes searched hers. “Is that what you want?”

She nodded and he immediately released her.

“Step away from her, Gilly,” Hank warned.

Kyle shoved him. “You first.”

Hank shoved him back. “Keep it up and I’ll hand you your ass.”

“Try it,” Kyle taunted.

“Stop it. Both of you.” She wrapped her arms around herself and stepped sideways so she could see both men.

They were pissed. Rightly so.

The brutal silence caused her to blurt, “I’d say I never meant this to happen, but I doubt you’ll believe me.”

“Try us,” Kyle said.

“Obviously I had no idea you guys were friends.” She paused and her gaze flicked between them. “How good of friends?”

“Why does it matter?” Hank asked brusquely.

“It just does.”

“Me ’n’ Hank have been friends since junior high,” Kyle said.

Lainie bit back a groan. It figured. “For the record, I’ve never, ever done anything like this in my entire life. So it’s no surprise . . .” A headache built behind her eyes, making the sockets ache and her temples pound.

Do not cry. You will not pull those goddamn crocodile tears like your mother would. Buck up and face the music.

Wrong. Run!

“I have to go. Right now.”

“Now, wait just a damn minute. We’re all adults here—”

She focused on Hank. “Did you or did you not get into a shoving match with Kyle when you saw us together?”

He scowled. “It caught me off guard, okay?”

“Me too,” Kyle said. “You must know neither one of us is the type of man to back down.”

Lainie threw her hands up. “Which is precisely my point.”

“We aren’t gonna come to blows over you,” Hank scoffed.

“You’re right. You won’t. Because I’m backing down. I’m breaking it off with both of you.”

“Lainie. Come back here so we can talk about this,” Hank shouted.

Her wild curls bounced against her rigid back with every hurried boot step. She never stopped. She never looked back.

When she climbed in her truck, Hank started after her.

A strong grip on his forearm and a curt, “Let her go,” stopped him.

Hank shifted to glare at Gilly. “What the f**k? Maybe you don’t want her, but I sure as hell do. I ain’t letting her go when she’s like this.”

Gilly got right in his face—a feat in itself, since the man was six inches shorter. “Don’t think for a second I don’t want Mel as badly as you do. But goin’ after her when she has this stubborn mind-set is a fool’s errand, and you damn well know it. I won’t have you f**king up my chance with her because you’re too damn dense to let her be.”

“Stop calling her Mel,” Hank snapped. “Her name is Lainie.”

“Stop bein’ such a dickhead,” Kyle shot back. “And for chrissake, if you’re gonna be such a picky bastard about names, how about if you get mine right? I ain’t been Gilly since I left Muddy Gap, Hank. The name is Kyle.”

“Fine, Kyle.”

The back door to the bar burst open, releasing a blast of steel guitar. Hank glanced in that direction, away from the dust plume as Lainie’s truck barreled off. A woman’s drunken whoop echoed, followed by a man’s laughter, and the door banged shut again.

Hank scowled. This was how his evening played out? Standing in the parking lot of a honky-tonk? At ten o’clock at night? Completely sober, completely pissed, completely confused on how he and his buddy ended up f**king the same woman?