Chantilly’s Cowboy Read Free

what?”
    “Ugly.” She closed her eyes and let Val wipe the tear from her cheek. “You should see him, sis. I’ve never seen a man with so much…so much manliness. I swear when God handed out the male gene, he got in line twice.”
    “Hm…” Val pursed her lips and tilted her head.
    “It’s not just the way he swaggers in his jeans…He’s got this—” Chantilly threw her arms out and almost lost her balance on the barstool. “Whoa!”
    “Easy.” Val grabbed her hand. “This what?” She grinned and raised her brows. “Are you telling me you can tell if he’s a lefty or a righty?”
    “Don’t!” Chantilly shook her head and held up her hand. “Lefty, but that’s not it.” She leaned forward. “It’s the way he stares at me. My insides are tied up in knots all day long. I swear I wanna jump on top of him and do the wild—”
    “Sh!” Val covered her sister’s mouth. “You wanna have every cowboy in the place all over you?” She frowned. “You never could hold your alcohol. You’re gonna hafta wait until I close to go home, and I’ll give you a ride.”
    “Hey, Valenciennes, where’s my beer?” A customer knocked on the wooden counter and stepped closer to where the two sisters sat.
    Val raised her arm and pointed at Chantilly. “Back off, Harland. Can’t you see I’m dealing with a family crisis? Pour your own damn drink if you can’t wait.”
    “Why didn’t you say so?” Harland Baker leaned over. “You okay, Chantilly? Do you need me to bust some heads fer you? You know I can do it. Remember when you gave me your lunch to beat up Sam Cross in the fifth grade? I’m good if I do say so myself.”
    Chantilly sniffed and gave a half smile. “Yeah, you did real well, Harland.” She sighed. “Nah, I don’t need you to do any fighting for me. I’ll be fine eventually.” She straightened up and patted Val’s leg. “Keep the drinks coming, sis. Tomorrow’s Saturday and I’m drowning my troubles.” She stood up, swayed and flung her hair behind her shoulders. “Besides, tonight I’m riding the bull.”
    “Chantilly.” Val raised one eyebrow. “One drink is your limit. You’ve drunk enough. Plus, I hate when you rile the guys up over riding ol’ Roy.”
    Chantilly laughed harshly. “Oh sweet Jesus, you look like Dad when you do that.” She stepped away from Val and turned to the rest of the bar. “Alrighty, boys, twenty bucks says I can keep my ass planted on ol’ Roy longer than any of you wannabes.”

Chapter Three
    Jack Grady sat at a corner table with his hat pulled down low, unable to find the willpower to take his gaze off Chantilly. His great plan to take a break from the constant state of arousal Chantilly had put him in all week collapsed the moment he found her sitting at the bar. No way could he leave now. He had an unexplainable desire to learn who Chantilly Lace was off her daddy’s ranch.
    He lifted the beer bottle to his lips without missing a moment of the touching scene between the two sisters. It didn’t take a genius to realize the woman who tended bar was another daughter of Stuart McDougal. How Stuart managed to raise five daughters with the bloodlines of thoroughbreds, without having a heart attack or killing every male in Pike, perplexed him.
    He drained the last of his drink and set it down with a clink against the wobbly table. All week he’d itched to get his hands on her. Away from work, he still wanted to wrap her in his arms and protect her from everything life would throw her way.
    He envied the way Stuart had raised a tight-knit family by himself. That alone drew his respect. Jack didn’t have that same closeness growing up with his own family. He didn’t want his working at the ranch to cause Chantilly pain. Yet the woman confused the hell out of him. He wanted to find out the reason behind those looks he caught her giving him and the way her body leaned a little bit closer when work made it impossible to step away.
    If she