Ride: A Bad Boy Romance Read Free

up to my lips.
    Maybe if we’re quiet, whoever it is will think we’ve left already.
    The knock sounds again.
    “Jackson, I know you’re in there,” a man’s voice booms.
    It’s Wayne, the guy who organizes Oklahoma Pioneer Days. He’s ex-military, and while I’d never call him high-strung to his face, he wants things run a certain way.
    Having a quickie with a buckle bunny fifteen minutes before you meet a reporter for a major magazine is exactly what Wayne doesn’t want.
    “Jackson,” he booms again.
    “You gotta get,” I whisper to the girl, who makes a pouty face as I pull on my boxers and jeans.
    “Comin’!” I shout, walking toward the door, still shirtless, hoping my pants hide my erection well enough.
    I pull the door open to Wayne’s unhappy face. He gives me a slow once-over, arms crossed in front of his chest.
    “What in tarnation are you doing in there?” he asks.
    “Gettin’ ready to meet a reporter,” I say. “I thought you’d want me wearing pants.”
    His eyes travel past me and land on something in the room, and his frown deepens. I resist for a moment, but then I turn and look.
    It’s an open, half-empty bottle of Jack Daniels.
    “Don’t you ruin this for us,” he says, pointing a finger at me. “Oklahoma Pioneer Days is a family event, you hear me?”
    “Absolutely, sir,” I say.
    It’s times like this I’m glad I was raised right. I can at least act respectful when I need to.
    “That don’t mean start a family while you’re here,” he adds.
    “No, sir,” I say.
    “Sookie’s in five,” he says, and holds up five fingers just in case I’m unclear on how many that is.
    Then he walks away, hands balled in fists at his sides, his spine straight. Still moves like he’s in the military.
    The girl peeks her head out of the bathroom and looks at me, then winks.
    “I can do five minutes,” she says.
    “He’ll have my hide,” I say, reaching into my suitcase for a shirt.
    She pouts again.
    “Sorry, darlin’,” I say. “I had a real good time last night.”
    Natalie? Naomi?
    “Me too,” she says. “Don’t worry, I’ll be around.”
    She gets dressed fast in her denim miniskirt and fringed shirt, and I shoo her out of my room. Then I screw the cap back on the liquor, pull on my boots, and get on down to Sookie’s Diner with one minute to spare.

    * * *
    S ookie’s Diner looks exactly like a place called Sookie’s Diner should look. Red-checked tablecloths, thrift store knickknacks on the walls, and tons of those kinda-ugly wooden plaques with funny little sayings on them, like Cowgirl up! and Save a horse, ride a Cowboy!
    I can get behind that last one.
    Wayne and his wife Darlene are sitting at the table already, and Wayne looks meaningfully at the clock on the wall when I come in.
    “You’re two minutes late,” he says.
    “That clock’s fast, and I’m earlier than they are,” I say.
    Darlene hasn’t said anything yet, but she’s giving me a good once-over, like she’s making sure that I don’t have a condom wrapper stuck on me anywhere and I don’t reek of whiskey.
    I don’t think I do. No guarantees.
    “Sports Weekly is doing a big feature on the Oklahoma Pioneer Days rodeo,” she finally says, lacing her fingers together in front of her.
    She’s got a perfect manicure, fancy earrings, and a face full of makeup. It would be easy to mistake Darlene for a glammed-up rodeo wife, but I’ve been riding at Pioneer Days for a couple years now. I know Darlene, and the woman can rope a steer in her own right, no matter how prim and proper she looks.
    “Okay,” I say. The waitress stops by with a cup of coffee for me, and I thank her.
    Then I watch her walk away. She moves a little stiffly, but I’d be willing to loosen her up.
    Darlene clears her throat, and I stop watching the waitress walk away.
    “We could be at the center of a perfect storm that makes rodeo mainstream,” Darlene goes on. “Play everything right, and bull riders could be