Cowboy Player: Cowboy Cocktail, Book 3 Read Free Page A

leaned forward. As he spoke into her ear, his warm breath caressed the sensitive skin on her neck. “You know, Lucky’s going to be doing the rodeo circuit soon. It’ll be just you and me on the road. Hours and hours together. You ready for that, Mel?”
    Melody cleared her throat. Be cool . Make a joke. Keep your distance. “You and me and a couple hundred pounds of raw meat? Sounds kinky, Superman.”
    In the crowded bar, Clark stood flush against her, his arm pressed against hers. The sleeves of his dark T-shirt molded to the broad muscles in his biceps. Where the cotton ended, his skin was smooth and hot. She’d spent enough time with Clark shut up in the van to know he smelled pretty good—soap and leather, a little drugstore aftershave. Up close was a different story. That familiar smell, mixed with the subtle scent of his skin, made the transmission fall out of Melody’s self-control.
    “I had a feeling you might be kinky, Santos,” he said.
    He moved even closer. With gentle fingers, he brushed her long hair away from her neck and tucked the curls behind her ear. Intentionally or not, his bottom lip brushed her earlobe as he whispered, “Am I right?”
    Christ. Heat rushed like quicksilver to her core, leaving her fingers and toes tingling with cold. She hadn’t been this turned on in months, maybe years. Under the bar, she pressed her thighs together to ease the hot ache that Clark had summoned with nothing more than a few whispered words and the caress of his fingertips.
    “Clark, what are you…” She trailed off and looked into his eyes.
    Was he teasing her? Was he serious?
    She and Clark had played in the creek together as little kids and slammed each other with dodgeballs in the schoolyard. She’d spent years in his company and yet, she couldn’t remember what color his eyes were. Here in the neon light, she couldn’t see his irises. But she could feel the unfamiliar heat of his gaze burning her like a thousand suns. Coming from a friend or lover, that look meant desire. That look meant sex.
    The band finished the song with a loud holler and a wild drum solo. The crowd cheered. Clark locked his eyes on her for a half-second more before Tom Shelton, the big, tough-looking bartender, set down a row of shot glasses on the bar in front of them.
    “Hey, Clark. Hey, Mel.” Tom proceeded to fill the shot glasses from a bottle of cinnamon-scented whiskey.
    Clark blinked and looked up at Tom. Melody folded her hands and rested them on her knees to keep from trembling.
    “Your brothers here tonight?” Tom asked Clark.
    Clark cleared his throat and shook his head. “No. All of ’em are busy.”
    “That’s a first. How about you? What are you two up to?”
    “Just keeping an eye on Mel’s little sister.”
    “No kidding. She’s a live wire,” said Tom. “These shots are for her group, matter of fact.”
    Melody leaned back and glanced at the bar where Harmony’s friends were sitting, but her little sister wasn’t there. Melody looked back at the dance floor. Harmony and her new cowboy friend were nowhere to be seen.
    “Clark.” She hopped off the barstool. “I’ve lost sight of my sister. Can you see her?”
    A full foot taller than Melody, Clark stood up straight and scanned the crowded room. “She was right there a minute ago.”
    “Ah, Christ,” Melody said.
    “We’ll find her. She can’t have gotten far.” Clark grasped Melody’s hand in his. With a warm, steady grip, he led her through the crowd, cutting a path for her. Together, they searched the dance floor and the area by the pool tables. They walked down the hallway leading to the restrooms and the smoking patio—still no Harmony. They were almost to the parking lot when Melody saw a flash of glitter in the corner of her eye.
    In the darkest corner of the bar, tucked into a booth, Melody’s baby sister was straddling a cowboy and sucking his face off like a lamprey on a dead flounder. The cowboy’s big hands gripped the