Chantilly’s Cowboy Read Free Page A

wasn’t bumping into him shoveling horseshit in the stables, she was undoing one too many buttons on those girly blouses that barely covered her curves. He gritted his teeth. The last few nights he walked to the cabin after work with a definite limp because she’d done her best to heat things up between them and walk away with her tail in the air.
    He’d spotted her the moment he walked in to the bar. How could he miss her? His radar went off loud and clear whenever she was around. Maybe it was time to play her game, give her a little and see what she did with him.
    Jack motioned for the waitress. “One more, please.” Leaning on the table, he let his gaze follow Chantilly across the room. With the jukebox playing he couldn’t hear what made the customers gravitate to the far side of the room, but he had a good idea it was Chantilly. Damn, what is that girl up to?
    Unable to see where she headed, Jack stood up and moved with the crowd. He clamped his teeth together. The hell she is!
    Chantilly stood beside the mechanical bull, passed her beer to one of the guys and, smoother than the head of a newborn calf, vaulted atop the flat leather seat. Jack turned and sought out her sister. Wasn’t she going to stop this stupidity?
    The other McDougal sister moved about behind the bar, filling trays of mugs, apparently without a concern for Chantilly’s safety. Jack marched over to the counter. If she ain’t gonna do something, I will. The fool girl is gonna end up breaking her neck.
    “What can I get—”
    “You can get your hell-raiser of a sister off that bull.” Jack tipped back the front of his hat. The muscle at his temple twitched. He softened his voice. “Please.”
    The woman stared him down and finally burst out laughing. “Well, look at you all puffed up like a horny rooster.” She stepped over and narrowed her eyes. “I don’t know who you think you’re talking to, but no one—” she leaned in closer, “—no one tells me what I can and can’t do in my own bar.”
    “Jack Grady. Foreman at McDougal Ranch.” He pointed to Chantilly without breaking the stare down. “Make Chantilly get off that thing before I go haul her off and cause a scene. She has no right to go and do something so foolish. She’s bound to hurt herself.”
    Chantilly’s sister slipped her hand down deep into her jeans pocket and slapped a twenty-dollar bill down on the counter. “Nice to meet you, Jack. I’m Chantilly’s baby sister, Val. I’ll bet you twenty bucks that even drunker than Bobby Ray in church on Sunday, Chantilly Lace will outride any slaphappy cowboy in the joint.” Val crossed her arms.
    The crowd began a countdown, and Jack turned in time to see Chantilly raise her arm in the air and lean back as the bull quickly shot forward and twisted. He held his breath. Goddammit.
    With his gaze glued on Chantilly, he automatically took the shot glass Val slipped into his hand. He quickly tipped it back and swallowed, letting the warm burn slide down his throat. Even that didn’t distract him from the way Chantilly’s legs pressed against the bull or the way her breasts bounced against the frilly blouse.
    Jack set down the glass, pushed his way through the men egging her on and reached the roped-off area at the same time the buzzer rang.
    “Beat that, boys.” Chantilly swung her leg over and jumped down. Her legs wobbled and her brows pinched together.
    Jack stepped over the cord and caught Chantilly to his chest before she could fall flat on her face. He scooped her up and cradled her in his arms. His breath caught in his chest.
    Chantilly snaked her arms around his neck and buried her head against the curve of his shoulder. The crowd parted and let him pass, but Val stood blocking his way to the door. He shifted his body to block Chantilly from deciding to stay with her sister and mouthed the word home.
    Val nodded and stepped closer. “You hurt her and every one of the McDougal girls will tear you apart.”