Last of the Red-Hot Cowboys (20 page)

“I'm coming, too,” Ava said.

“Aren't I on your bad side, too?” he asked.

“Yes.”

She ran on ahead of him, and after a second of calculating whether being alone with these two women, neither of whom were happy with him, was a good idea, Trace caught up to them.

“Hell, Judy, don't be mad,” Trace said. “I've got so many strikes against me that I'll be on your bad list until Christmas.”

“You've turned into a knucklehead,” Judy said. “And when I've cooled off, I'm going to talk to you about how you've split up my team.”

He looked at Ava. She favored him with a raised flat palm, as if to say,
Tell it to the hand
, so he went back to work.

“Damn it, Judy, I'm sorry. Will you stop for a minute?” He got her to stop walking, which was pretty much like trying to stop a locomotive.

“You're doing everything you can to rain on my parade,” Judy said. “You just ooze negative energy.”

Ava nodded in agreement.

“Okay, okay, I'm the bad guy. Can we kiss and make up?” he asked, regretting it the moment he said it because it got him to thinking about kissing Ava again, and his gaze slid to her mouth. By the way she frowned at him, he knew those lips were never going to be under his again.

Unless he did some fast hero work.

“I'll stop oozing negative energy,” he told Judy, “and you compromise on the bullfighting idea. These women would make perfect role models for our community in another capacity. Such as Hell Hostesses.”

“What's a ‘Hostess'?” Judy demanded.

“Ambassadors. They should give tours on horseback and do shows, Judy. Right in the town square. What these girls are awesome at is riding.” He glanced at Ava. “We need ambassadors to showcase our town, let everybody know this isn't just a hardworking men's backwater of two hundred people. There aren't any kids to speak of here, Judy, except for Hattie's daughter, and she turned twenty-two this year. Women aren't rushing to live here.” His gaze softened on Judy. “You know it's true. Not everyone is like you, Judy.”

“Meaning?”

He smiled at her irritated tone. “That you're one of the few females who could survive in this town without bake sales and parties and a dress store, and all the other female things ladies like. It's not soft here.”

Judy sniffed. “I have friends. I have Madame Chen, and Hattie, and Dr. Ann. Plus my team,” she said, brightening.

“Think about it,” Trace said, glancing at Ava. He noted that she didn't look entirely as if he were a horrible snake at the moment, so maybe he was on a good path. “What we need are more ladies. Not that I'm looking for a woman or anything,” he said hurriedly to clarify, and Judy gasped.

“Why didn't I think of that?” she said. “When I have my parade, I'm going to have Hell's first kissing booth!
Booths
!” Her gaze fell speculatively on Ava, and his heart flat stopped.

“Now, Judy,” Trace said, “that wasn't exactly—”

“You, Saint, and Declan will be my first Hell Kissers. A competition to see which of you can get the most paying ladies to kiss you,” she said excitedly. “And I may even invite those scurvy Horsemen. Or put my girls up against Ivy's girls in a charity kiss-off! Wouldn't that just put the crimp in ol' Ivy's derriere? My girls would for sure beat hers hands down!”

She laughed and patted his arm. “Sometimes you actually come up with a winner, Trace. Thanks. Come on, Ava. We've got potpies back at Redfeathers that are probably just about cooled off enough to eat. Hattie's no slouch in the kitchen, but Stephen Redfeathers is the best cook around for sixty miles.”

The ladies left him standing on the pavement. Trace shook his head, dumbfounded. Once again, he'd gotten himself caught in Judy's trap.

And once again, he was thinking about Ava and her soft sweet lips. Only now he had to worry about Judy's kissing booth, and the fact that Ava would be one of Judy's kissers. Judy wasn't slow on the curve. The idea of a unisex town kiss-off was brilliant—and there'd be a line stretching from here to Austin to kiss Ava.

The men would go mad over those soft, velvety lips.

There was only so much a man—even an Outlaw—could take.

* * *

“Tell her no,” Steel said, patting Trace on the shoulder as the men grouped around the pool table. “Just tell my girl no.”

Trace looked at the sheriff with real disgust. “When's the last time you told Judy no about anything and got away with it?”

“Never.”

Declan and Saint grinned. “I think it's a helluva idea,” Declan said. “And I'm going to beat both of you hands down.”

Saint nodded. “I'm all in. I hope Judy does run a kissing competition. I hope the ladies come running fast and hit up all over my pucker. Come to papa!”

Trace couldn't believe his ears. “You,” he said, pointing at Steel, “are still in the doghouse with Judy; you'll go along with anything she says. But the rest of you should have some pride. And further,” he said, ladling on the righteous disgust, “we still need to discuss how it happens that you tell me Ava's not fit for bullfighting but then go behind my back to train her.”

“You're too involved,” Saint said. “You know that.”

“You have too much lust ruling you to think straight,” Declan said. “We can handle this better.”

“Are you going to train the other girls?” Trace demanded. “Am I relegated to the pretty-pony part of their lessons?”

His buddies and Steel laughed. They stiffened when the Horsemen walked into
their haunt.

“Look what we have here,” Buck said. “Girly boys.”

“No,” Fallon said. “We have Outlaws.”

“Outlaws looking for in-laws,” Rebel said, and they laughed. “Which one of you will end up with which of Judy's team?”

“That's what the game is all about.” Jake put his boot up on a chair near Trace. “Judy went out of town to hire a wedding consultant for Hell.”

Trace, Declan, and Saint stared their rivals down.

“She was interviewing new team members,” Trace said.

“Nah.” Buck laughed. “She went to her sister's in Austin to find the latest and greatest in wedding-fantasy stuff.” He smirked at them. “We overheard her telling Hattie and Dr. Ann all about it.”

A conspiracy. Judy was full of them. Look at the Hell Belles. He glanced over at Ava and the table of her friends, sitting and laughing as they had a “team” meeting with Judy.

“Thanks for the intel,” Trace said, “but I'm not really sure how that affects us.”

“Yeah. Why tell us?” Saint demanded.

“Because Judy's got her eyes on settling you lot down,” Jake said. “We intend to sit back and watch you fall like dominoes, right in a line like you do every time Judy tells you to.”

It was an irritating-as-hell gibe, but unfortunately there was a ring of truth in there somewhere. Declan hit a ball and then leaned up against a wall, ever so casually. Trace recognized the beginning of trouble in his brother's stance, a warning that revenge wasn't far off.

“Speaking of falling like dominoes,” Declan said, “how does it happen that you're donating gear and money to the Belles? Throwing Daddy's money around again, Jake?”

“Pop said it was a good cause. He needed a tax write-off. It's been a good year for Wild Jack. And it's never a good idea not to back the mayor.” He grinned. “Besides which, there's always money in pretty ladies.”

Trace could feel steam practically rising from his hat. “Don't let us keep you. You probably have someplace real important to be.”

“Free country, isn't it?” Rebel asked.

They were spoiling for a fight, and by the look on Declan's face, they just might get one. Trace decided tonight was not the night to rip up Redfeathers. He had other things on his mind that required attention.

Specifically, how he was going to talk Judy out of the kissing booth idea. Now, that was an important subject to tackle. He glanced toward Ava, and she met his gaze—glancing away just as fast.

“I'm outta here,” he said. He put his cue on the rack. “I promised Rory I'd get out to his place tonight to help with a couple of chores.”

“We'll come along,” Saint said.

“Table's yours,” Declan said, “and my pool cue, too.” He whipped it, slicing the cue hard against Buck's knees. Buck let out a howl, and Trace realized tonight was destined to be fight night after all.

“Now, now, boys,” Steel said, muscling in with his big, solid six-foot-one frame. “There are ladies present.”

“Yeah, and they're standing right here,” Rebel said, glaring at the Outlaws.

Trace scoffed, put his hat on. “You never learn, fellas. But that's okay. It makes it that much easier to enjoy kicking your ass when necessary.”

Judy got up, waved Trace over. The Horsemen laughed, but Trace didn't care. When one got the call from Judy, one went—and if Ava was sitting at the table, one put a little git in his getalong.

“Trace,” Judy said, “can you drive the Belles home? I have something I want to discuss with the Horsemen, now that Steel's calmed them down.”

He eyed Judy. There were donations and uniforms and kissing booths and other topics on the mayor's mind—and if the Horsemen were correct, wedding-consultant interviewing. “I'll take them home, sure. But then you and I need to have a chat.”

She sniffed, rose up to her full six feet to try to meet his gaze. “Talk is cheap, Trace Carter.”

“It may be, but let's spend a nickel together. There's some things we need to get straight.”

He glanced at Ava, hot temptation in tight blue jeans to his eyes. There was no
way any of Buck's crowd was getting his hands on that.

Mine, mine, mine
.

Actually, not mine at all
.

Going to have to get that figured out—before I lose my mind
.

* * *

Trace drove the Belles home, with Ava sitting in the seat next to him and Cameron and Harper in the back. They were pretty chatty, giving him a chance to think.

Plot how he could get Ava alone.

The problem solved itself when he parked his truck and Cameron and Harper got out. Ava remained in the truck, and when they were alone, she looked at him. “Just to let you know,” Ava said, “I wasn't planning on staying in Hell.”

“I know.”

“In fact, I'm not even sure I will past the holidays. But for now, I've taken the job waitressing at Hattie's, and I've got my riding.”

He nodded. “Glad things worked out.”

She was stiff, not about to bend. This was no casual excuse to stay in his truck to pretend to talk, and then to work her way into a make-out session, which had happened to him—a lot—with other women.

No, this one had to be
truly
hard to get. And she wasn't
playing
unavailable—he could practically feel the ice wall between them.

All on her side, of course.

“You don't have to train with Saint,” he said.

“I do. He asked.”

Unlike him, who'd kicked her off his practice squad.

He was in a tough spot.

“Listen, about that—”

She held up a hand. “I completely understand. Once Saint and Declan explained it to me, I totally got it.”

“Explained what, exactly?” Small warning bells began to peal at the back of his
brain.

“Your partners say you have intimacy issues.”

He blinked. “Intimacy issues?”

“Yes. You came back from the war changed. You don't really want a woman in your life. You're afraid of feeling anything.” Ava nodded. “It all totally fits with the way you act.”

“The way I act?”

“Yeah.” She gathered up her purse. “You know, like you've got a chip on your shoulder that's the size of the world. It
is
the size of the world.” She looked at him. “I get that you don't want to lose anybody, or get close to anybody. Saint says no one goes in and no one goes out of your life. And that way you keep yourself aloof.”

He had two brothers-in-arms he was going to bark at when he got home. But right now, he had an urban legend to dispel. “Not even close.”

She opened the truck door. “It's all right, Trace. I understand why you don't want to train me anymore. I'm okay with it, I promise you—”

He didn't let her finish. He hauled her back over to him, capturing those sexy lips, partly to shut off the spigot of fairy tales his brothers had told her, but mostly to get his mouth on hers.

Oh, God, it was better than he remembered.

Trace drank Ava in, sliding his tongue along hers, tasting the sweet velvety moistness that was Ava, felt himself practically time-traveling out of his head with suddenly blinding need.

She pulled away from him, gazing at him, her eyes huge. “What are you trying to prove?”

This was definitely the first time a woman had ever said that to him after he'd kissed her. Trace felt himself practically die a little inside.

“Saint and Declan say it's not good for you to be with anyone right now. That your fear of intimacy is something you're going to need a long time to work—”

He pulled her back to him, kissing her, drinking her in, holding her warm body to him as close as he could get it. “I'm glad you're staying in Hell,” he got out before drowning himself in her mouth again. “You can help me get over these issues. I may be a
long way from recovery, but you're just the woman to cure me,” he said, and dove back in, stroking and teasing her with his mouth. He wanted her so badly it hurt, and he felt himself growing rock-hard. She opened up to him like a flower, finally relaxing in his arms, and Trace swept her mouth the way he'd been dying to since she'd first showed up in Hell.

The kissing booth was going to be a problem. No one was finding out how sweet this luscious, red-velvety mouth was. “You're not going to be in any kissing booth,” he blurted out. “I think I'm in love with your mouth.”