The Bull Rider's Collection (23 page)

“Hey, I’m José, not Harry.” The concierge laughed. “You’d better keep this one close, Mr. Martin, she’s a gem.”

Barbara laughed. She hadn’t received this much attention in forever. Maybe she should dress up a little more often, rather than her normal uniform of jeans and tank tops. She slipped into the back seat, sliding over as Hunter followed her. When he shut the door, she was acutely aware of the heat of Hunter’s body, warming her own. Tonight he’d worn a suit, black and perfect, the fabric soft when the jacket edge caressed her arm. A touch of casual, his blue silk shirt was unbuttoned and he had foregone the tie. She slipped into the far corner of the seat to give him some room, keeping herself from reaching out and sliding her hand on his leg.

He noticed her movement and a slight smile crossed his lips.

“You look amazing tonight as well. I didn’t realize we were playing dress up.” Barb tried to lighten the mood that had turned seriously sexual as soon as the limo door had closed. They were alone. Together.

“Well, for you not planning on playing, you picked the right outfit. Man, I thought those goons were going to throw you over their shoulders and carry you off to their cave.” Hunter straightened his suit jacket. “I would have rescued you, my lady.”

“I think you did. Adam and his guys are fine. A little typical salesman attitude for my taste, but honestly, they are good guys. At least Adam is. When you get to know him.” Barb played with the strap on her purse. Her sponsors rarely met each other. She was good at scheduling time with each company representative so that they thought they were number one on her time priorities. She’d have to check in with Adam next week and smooth any ruffled feathers. Of course, Hunter hadn’t said he was a sponsor, he’d said they were dating. Whether that was better or worse, Barb couldn’t decide. She filed the thought away and decided just to enjoy the evening. For once.

“So where are we going?” Barb looked out the window at the busy street. Traffic was backed up but instead of the sedans, taxis, and crossovers she’d see in San Francisco, pimped out pickup trucks dominated the road. She wondered if the town’s traffic was always this way or if this was due to rodeo week. She’d often imagined what a town looked like after the rodeo. Living in Shawnee had taught her that what she saw was probably not normal town behavior for either the businesses or the people milling the streets.

“I told you, the best steakhouse in town. Or, at least, according to José. Cottonwood Creek. I hope you don’t embarrass me and order a salad. We’ll probably be escorted out.”

“Nothing wrong with salad.” Barb gave him a wicked smile. “But if Martin Dairy is picking up the tab, I’m in for the steak. Or maybe surf and turf. Depends.”

“That’s my girl.” Hunter leaned forward, staring out the window. “I think we’re here.”

The limo pulled to the curb and the driver opened the door. Hunter stepped out then held his hand for Barb to follow. It was official — she was in some sort of fairy tale. She smiled and slipped out of the limo.

“We’ll text you when we order dessert so you can swing back around for us. Plan on at least an hour or two. I’ll keep you on the clock so go grab something to eat.” Hunter patted the driver on the arm.

“Yes, sir.” The driver tipped his hat and closed the door behind them.

“We could have taken a taxi.”

“What’s the fun in that? We can do a taxi in Boise. This way the driver gets a full night of pay for one trip.” Hunter took her arm and led her to the door of the restaurant. “And I’m a great tipper.”

Barb just shook her head. Hunter Martin better be planning on Martin Dairy being Jesse’s new sponsor for all the money they were spending tonight. She pasted on her best sponsor smile and walked with him into the dining room.

• • •

The woman on Hunter’s arm looked amazing. Even better, she was funny and smart and quick to laugh. All qualities he looked for in a woman. Or at least qualities he would appreciate if this weren’t just a sponsor dinner. If they were on a real date. And if he were looking for a relationship. Which he wasn’t.

No, Kati needed him. At seven, she needed stability in her life after his brother had dragged the little girl from state to state, exploring the country. John and Rachel had been free spirits, roaming the country on that Harley, at least until Kati had been born. Then they’d upgraded to a Land Rover, but still traveled. Right after the accident, Kati had lived with Hunter and his dad at the ranch. Then Hunter had bought the new house in her old neighborhood. For the last six months, she’d barely talked when either man was around.

So when Kati had called to wish him a safe flight, he’d assumed his dad had prompted the call. But it didn’t matter. Kati had called.

Thinking of home, Hunter patted his jacket pocket to make sure he’d brought his phone. He didn’t want her to call and not reach him. She needed to know he was there for her. Not like her mother and father. He didn’t know what John and Rachel had been thinking leaving Kati alone that night. A quick ride on the cycle and the little girl had woken up to a new reality where she was an orphan.

“Something wrong?” Barb was watching him. He realized he hadn’t said a word since they’d sat down at the table.

“Not a thing.” He picked up the menu and pretended to study it while he watched Barb. No, the woman was off limits for many reasons. His and hers. But God, she was amazing to look at. When he’d seen her surrounded by those goons, he’d wanted to deck every one of them. Especially the heavy set one with his arm around Barb. She’d looked uncomfortable, but apparently this Adam hadn’t seen that.

Sometimes he didn’t understand his gender. Not at all.

“Are you ready to order?” A waitress stood by their table, dressed in a way too short skirt, looking more like a Vegas casino girl than the old west saloon gal the costume was supposed to imitate.

He nodded to Barb. “Ladies first. Or should I order for you?”

A wicked smile crossed her face and not for the first time that day, Hunter wondered what the woman was thinking. He hoped the thought was about him. Or him naked. Or them both naked.

“Not in this lifetime, Mr. Stuck-in-the-Fifties.” Barb proceeded to order a porterhouse with lobster, the loaded baked potato, and a salad on the side.

“Sounds good, I’ll have the same. But make my porterhouse rare. And ranch for the salad, please.” He handed the menus back. “Bring us a bottle of zin. Not too sweet, but not dry. You chose.”

The waitress shook her head. “I don’t drink, so I’ll have the sommelier pick for you, okay?”

“Whatever works, just don’t let him take forever with the wine.” He smiled at the waitress to soften the words then turned back to Barb. “I like a girl who doesn’t just eat salad.”

Her laughter tinkled in the candlelight. “I do eat my share of salads, believe me, but if Martin Dairy can afford a limo to take us to dinner, I guess they can afford a real meal.” She shook her white linen napkin open and laid it on her lap. “Besides, the last meal I had was toast and jam at my mom’s this morning before I met you at the airport. Just nudge me if I’m using the wrong fork. They like their silver here.”

“Fine dining places always put way too much stuff on the table. I can count on José for great recommendations every time I’m here. Any place that brings rolls when you set down is all right in my book.” Hunter tossed a warm roll to Barb. “Catch.”

Barb’s eyes widened but she managed to grab the roll with one hand. She sat it on her bread plate and carved a dollop of butter with her knife.

“Nice form.”

Barb’s eyebrow rose. “In addition to barrel racing, I was captain of the girls’ baseball team.”

“Talented.” Hunter finished buttering his own roll and took a bite.

“Small school. I don’t think there was a girls’ sport team that Lizzie and I weren’t on. I hated volleyball, but Liz loved it. She hated basketball, but played anyway so we’d have enough players to set a team.” Barb took a bite of her roll, her eyes rolling in pleasure. “These are good.”

“Told you.” Hunter wondered what he’d have to do to get that same reaction.

“Do you like to gamble? Is that why you visit Vegas so much?” Barb’s tone sounded light, like she was trying for non-judgmental. She knew he was worth a hunk of change.

“There’s a ranch outside town for kids who’ve lost their way. Either foster kids or just kids angry enough to get in trouble early.” Hunter took another roll, avoiding Barb’s eyes. He figured his answer had surprised her. “Martin Dairy supports the ranch. I come out here probably every other month to help out. Or I did. Lately, things at home have been complicated.”

Barb nodded but to his surprise didn’t ask about the complications. A man stood at the side of the table with a bottle of wine in his hands. He poured a taste of the wine for Hunter.

“Is this what you were looking for sir?” the man asked politely.

Hunter took a sip then nodded. “Perfect.”

The sommelier smiled, then poured each a glass. “Your waitress will know what wine to bring if you need a second bottle. Have a good night.” The man walked away.

Hunter held up his glass. “To a perfect night.”

Barb hesitated then held up her own. “To making new friends.”

Hunter hoped the comment wasn’t meant to limit their involvement because right now, at this moment, there was nothing friendly in his feelings for the beautiful woman sitting across from him. Visions of hot sweaty sex filled his mind with Barb in the starring role. Kissing those full lips, touching those perfect breasts, her long legs. Nope, his feelings were not a bit friendly. They were all pure lust.

Two hours later, the limo driver was still not answering. Hunter frowned. “I hope he’s all right.”

Barb shook her head. “No wonder everyone likes you, you’re Mr. Pollyanna. The guy probably took a run after he dropped us off and now is trying to get that finished up before he comes back for us.”

Hunter shook his head, matching her movement. “Cynical for such a young lady.” He took her arm. “Let’s go wait in the bar so they can rent out our table again.”

“See, ever thoughtful.” Barb stumbled on her heels. “Oops, sorry, not used to wine, I guess.”

“What about tequila?”

Her smile told him everything he wanted to know, but she answered anyway. “Line up the shot glasses, I take mine with lime and salt.”

He adored her laugh. He loved her body. Yep, Barbara Carico was definitely the total package. And there was only one thing wrong with her — she’d come into his life at the wrong time. Hunter put the shot glass to his lips and tipped back his head to drown out the voice that was telling him he needed little Miss Carico.

When the limo finally arrived two hours later, the couple had decided on two more stops. First stop, the county courthouse, then a chapel with a minister who channeled Elvis. This time, the driver stayed with them, delivering a very drunk and happy Mr. and Mrs. Hunter Martin back to the hotel.

Bright sunlight filled the room, burning Barb’s eyes. Her mouth was dry, tasting like she’d chewed on an old cowboy boot all night. What had they been drinking? Barb sat up, pulling the covers around her naked body. Nothing unusual there, she didn’t believe in nightgowns, especially those lace and feathers ones old boyfriends had tried to buy her. She slept better naked and if she had a visitor, her choice made it that much more fun.

Barb glanced at the clock. Almost ten. Man, she must have tied one on after they left the restaurant. Wait, no, it was in the restaurant bar where they’d started doing tequila shots. Fruit and salt optional. Hunter had been unable to reach the limo driver so they’d sat in the bar talking and …

A sound caught her attention. Running water. Someone was in the shower. Her shower. She froze. What had happened after the bar? She vaguely remembered kissing Hunter. Long passionate kisses in the back of the limo, hands running all over her body. And then they’d come to her room.

She stretched out her arms like a cat waking from a long, summer nap. Something sparkled on her hand, catching her attention. A ring.

She sat straight up and stared at her hand. A diamond ring on her left hand. What had they done? She stared at the bathroom door. Sex with Hunter, although it probably had been amazing, if she could remember it, was one thing. But marrying the guy? That just went to crazy, coo coo land.

“Breathe,” she said to herself. “Let’s look at the facts. One, you both were pretty wasted last night. Two, there’s a ring on your finger. And three … ” She stopped her list and took the deep breath she’d been telling herself to take. “And three, there’s someone in your freaking shower.”

She threw herself back down on the bed, covering herself with the covers. Instantly, she regretted the quick movement as her head pounded out the beat of an Elvis tune. “Blue Hawaii,” maybe? A memory from last night hit her — Elvis had married them. And then sang “Love Me Tender” with a melody mix. The guy had actually been kind of good from what Barb could remember.

Married. She was married. Again. She really had to stop coming to Vegas. Kevin had tricked her into her first marriage, but this one she had no one to blame but herself. And the tequila.

A knock sounded on her door. Crap, room service? Had Hunter ordered breakfast? She pulled on sweat shorts and a tee shirt. “I’m coming,” she called to the door. She pulled her hair back into a clip she found on the dresser and grabbed up her discarded clothing from the floor. Hunter must have gathered his clothing up before he’d gone into the bathroom.

“Idiot,” she whispered to the woman staring at her in the mirror. Sleeping with a sponsor was bad. With a potential sponsor, worse. And marrying one? That was just off the charts stupid. Now they’d pussyfoot around each other the rest of the weekend and when Hunter went back home, she’d be toast. The guy had too much class to sponsor the clients of the one night stand slut he’d just slept with. “Stupid.”

She went to the door and swung it open. Not even looking at the busboy, she said, “Come on in, let me find my purse.”

“You don’t have to tip me.” Hunter chuckled. “It’s just coffee.”