Do Me Right

“Sounded like one to me,” George said.

She looked from one man to the other. They were both wearing smart-ass grins. She had half a mind to slap sense into both of them. But that would probably only egg them on. She settled for a return to her ice-queen routine. “Think what you like,” she said. “You’ll end up disappointed.”

As someone who’d had her share of disappointments, she knew they’d learn to live with it.

KYLE WATCHED THERESA WORK. He couldn’t remember when he’d met a more intriguing package: sex appeal and sass wrapped up with a heavy dose of smarts.

He was glad he’d let George talk him into coming here this morning instead of sitting around in his borrowed apartment, moping the way he’d done ever since that side-winder of a calf had snapped the bone in his wrist and put an abrupt halt to this season’s rodeo competition.

All he had to look forward to now was six weeks of bumming around town or, worse, recuperating at the family ranch, listening to his sister’s lectures on responsibility and settling down, enduring her transparent attempts at matchmaking and sidestepping her pointed questions about his plans for the future.

“What do you do when you’re not on the rodeo circuit?”

Theresa’s question pulled him away from his fast slide toward a deep blue funk. She was focusing on the lizard taking shape on George’s arm, not looking at him, but apparently she’d decided to at least be friendly.

“My family has a ranch out near Wimberley,” he said. “I’m supposed to be living there and helping out, but right now I’m just hanging out around Austin. I’ve got a friend who’s working on an oil rig in Nigeria and he’s letting me stay at his apartment until he comes home.” He’d sent his horse to the ranch right after the accident, but he wasn’t exactly eager to set up headquarters there himself.

“Oh. So you really are a cowboy.”

“I guess you could say that.”

“Kyle’s folks have been raising cattle and horses for at least four generations,” George said. “Ain’t that right?”

“Yeah. The Two Ks has been around just about forever.”

“I guess that’s a really cool thing,” Theresa said. “But I think I’d be bored out of my skull living way out like that.” She shut off the tattoo machine and blotted George’s fresh tat with gauze. “Guess I’m too much of a city girl.”

You and me both, Kyle thought, but he kept quiet. His current restlessness didn’t really have anything to do with this woman, though he couldn’t help wondering if she or someone like her wouldn’t be a good antidote to what was ailing him. Spending the next six weeks having a good time with a willing woman would be a damn sight more fun than moping around the ranch house dodging his sister’s nagging to persuade him to settle down.

“What time do you get off work?” he asked.

She looked up, the hard look erased from her face for a moment. For a split second she looked softer. Vulnerable even. Then the mask was back in place. “I told you I wasn’t interested.”

He let a slow smile form, putting every bit of sex appeal he could muster into the look. Women had told him before that he was charming. He only hoped Theresa agreed. “I think I could make things interesting…for both of us.”

“Aw, come on. Are you two going to sit there making goo-goo eyes at each other, or are you gonna finish my tattoo?”

George’s whine effectively broke whatever had been building between them. Lips pressed together in a thin line, Theresa bandaged George’s arm and gave him a list of instructions for caring for his tattoo.

While George paid his bill, Kyle looked around. A sign by the cash register announced the hours of business as eleven to eleven weekdays. That meant he had about ten hours to kill before he could make his next move.

2

THERESA CHECKED HER WATCH as she turned the key in the dead bolt of the shop. Almost midnight. Time for Cinderella to turn back into a scullery maid. Time for her to head home.

To what? Not even a cat waited for her at her apartment. No one would call to make sure she’d arrived safely. No one would ask about her day or be ready to keep her company in bed.

She’d never minded her solitary life before. She had friends, and though she hadn’t had a serious relationship with a man in years, she hadn’t really wanted one. She never lacked for companionship whenever she was interested. But since Zach had moved away, there was no one she was really close to.

Suddenly the last place she wanted to be was that empty apartment. She turned in the opposite direction from the lot where she’d parked her car and headed back up East Sixth.

At this hour the protestors were gone, but the crowds were thin even for a weeknight. How much of this was due to Clean Carter’s campaign? What would happen to the businesses on the street if this kept up?

She was probably worrying over nothing. She’d grab a bite to eat, wind down a little, then head home. A good night’s sleep would pull her out of the bad mood she’d been in all day.

She pushed open the door to the Library Bar and went inside. “Hey, Pete.” She greeted the bartender and took a seat at the bar. “Any pizza left?”

“Couple of slices.” Pete took a glass from over his head and filled it with ice. “Diet Coke?”

“Yeah. And a slice of pizza.” She looked around the room. Two couples occupied tables across the room and three college-age guys sat at the other end of the bar watching a television with the sound turned down.

“Quiet in here tonight,” she said as he set the drink in front of her.

“It’s been quiet in here a lot of nights lately. People don’t want to deal with being hassled by a bunch of sign-waving, pamphlet-pushing busybodies. What about at your place?”

She shrugged. She’d had less than a dozen customers all day, all regulars except for George and Kyle.

She shifted, trying to get more comfortable on the hard bar stool. She’d been thinking about Kyle off and on all day. She couldn’t remember the last time a man had gotten her attention the way the handsome cowboy had.

Some of her friends had accused her of being too picky; she preferred to think of it as particular. If she was going to spend her time and energy on a man, she wanted to be sure he was worth the trouble.

Kyle had definitely sparked her interest. He had a cocky self-assurance that challenged her to tame him and enough of a sense of humor to hint at fun along the way. In her experience, the combination could be incendiary in bed—and impossible out of it.

Pete delivered her pizza and she began to eat. As she chewed, she couldn’t help thinking that a dinner that was the equivalent of rubbery cheese on cardboard was a sure sign of a miserable social life.

“You don’t look like you’re enjoying that much.”

Startled, she dropped the half-eaten pizza slice and stared at the man who’d slid onto the bar stool next to her. “What are you doing here?”

Kyle tilted his hat back on his head. “I’m looking for you.”

Whatever appetite she’d had deserted her at those four words. She pushed her plate away and took a long drink, careful not to look at him, though she could feel his gaze burning into her. “Why would you be looking for me?”

She waited for some flirty or suggestive answer, but he remained silent. She held out for a full minute, but after that she had to look at him. He wasn’t smiling—in fact, he looked far too serious.

Pete approached. “What can I get you?”

“Bourbon and Coke.” Kyle turned to Theresa. “Do you want anything else?”

She shook her head. What she wanted was to get out of here. Away from him and the shaky, unsettled way he made her feel.

“How long have you been a tattoo artist?” he asked.

The very ordinariness of the question surprised her. No innuendo or playfulness, just ordinary conversation. What was he up to? She shifted slightly away from him and stirred her drink with the straw. “About seven years now. I apprenticed a couple years before that.”

“Uh-huh. I’ve been on the rodeo circuit ten years. A long time to be smelling horse shit and wrestling ornery cows.”

“If you don’t enjoy it anymore, why don’t you quit?”