Come Closer, Cowboy

Mallory sighed. What was it with Elaine and Sadie? Why were they trying to fix her up with him?

“Who’s Mike?”

She looked at Gunner. For a few wonderful, blessed moments, she’d forgotten he was there. “A guy who did some carpentry work for me.” Gunner turned his head and she saw that his hair was touching the collar of his blue polo shirt. He never let it go like that, not even when he was away working for long periods of time. But damn he looked good.

“The guy sitting alone to the left of the stage?” he asked, turning back to stare at her.

“What?”

“Is that Mike?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t looked for him. What do you care, anyway?” She noticed a couple sitting near Ben trying impatiently to get her attention. Damn. Her grand opening and she was going to chase everyone away.

She felt Gunner watching her as she went to get refills. Those mesmerizing gray eyes still got to her every time. When she’d first met him when she was sixteen, she hadn’t been that into boys yet, but she remembered thinking he was the hottest guy she’d ever seen. He’d been twenty-one at the time so of course he’d barely noticed her.

For weeks he’d come to the bar almost every day. Then he’d disappear for a month. She’d known it was partly his job that kept him away. But when a year had gone by without him making a single appearance, she’d figured that was it...she’d never see him again. And then out of the blue Gunner had started showing up, three or four times a week when he wasn’t away on location.

By then she’d turned twenty-one and was working full-time at the Renegade. A year later her dad had died unexpectedly. An aneurism, the doctor had said. No apparent cause. Mallory had figured all the hard living had caught up to him. Bitter that his stunt career had been cut short, he’d drank a lot, smoked anything that was rolled and screwed any woman who’d let him. He wasn’t so different from a lot of the stunt guys who’d helped keep the Renegade in business.

Of course many just had one or two drinks then left to go home to their wives. Gunner fell somewhere in the middle. He’d done some hell-raising in his twenties but not lately. And while he could drink with the best of them, only twice had she seen him truly drunk.

Mallory slipped past him to get to the tap, and thankfully, Elaine returned at the same time. Questions burned in Gunner’s eyes, but no way would Mallory deal with them now. Or ever, if she had her say.

“You didn’t take Mike his beer,” Elaine said, and then briefly eyed Gunner as if she’d just realized he might be the reason. “Never mind. I’ll go.”

Mallory watched her pick up the mug. She should’ve just taken it to Mike and thanked him for coming to the opening. But she couldn’t do it in front of Gunner. It was stupid. But somehow she knew she’d fumble.

She felt those stormy gray eyes on her again. She turned and met them full-on. “What?”

He gave a slight shrug before looking to see if Elaine had left a ticket. She hadn’t. It was the first lull of the night. He picked up a dry bar rag and wiped his hands.

“You need a haircut.”

“I was too busy leaving voice mails.”

Drawing in a deep breath, she avoided his gaze by checking the bowl of lime wedges. They still had a lot. She looked up and saw Mike lifting a hand. She smiled back at him.

Two tables to his left, she noticed a young woman who’d applied for the waitress job. Mallory couldn’t recall her name, but Elaine would know. If the woman was willing, Mallory would hire her on the spot.

Either way, there was no need for Gunner to stay.

She was about to tell him so when she felt pressure around her waist.

It was Gunner.

Behind her. His hands sliding down to cup her hips.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” he said, trying, though not very hard, to move her to the right. “I need to get more glasses.”

Without making a fuss, she managed to push his hands away. “Touch me again and I’ll—” Okay, that might’ve been too loud. She clamped her lips together.

“What? Hmm, Mallory?” he whispered with a half smile. “What are you going to do? Move to Alaska?”

3 (#u7f848c24-9b8e-5eed-b265-26033fff2cca)

GUNNER KNEW HE shouldn’t have come tonight. It was a dick move. Yeah, he was still pissed at Mallory. But he didn’t want to screw things up for her. She probably already had first-night jitters.

“Excuse me,” she said through gritted teeth and forced him back a step at the risk of losing his toes.

Those were some heels on her black boots. They looked new. And kind of sexy. Normally she wore a low-heeled tan pair that were pretty beat-up. And the clingy red top and tight black jeans? He’d never seen them before. At the Renegade she’d worn nothing but T-shirts and faded denim. And sometimes a flannel shirt in the winter.

The guys sitting at the bar all watched her walk to the other end, their gazes lingering on her ass before taking in her long legs. It annoyed the shit out of him.

On second thought, why should he worry about making her nervous? She’d done this to herself. All she’d had to do was return just one damn call. They could’ve talked, got everything out in the open. Not that he thought there was anything to hash out. The world hadn’t ended just because they’d had sex.

And he sure as hell didn’t remember holding a gun to her head. Mallory hadn’t held back. Sure, the booze played a part, but they hadn’t drank that much. He’d done a lot of thinking on the drive to Montana. Mallory had downed three quick shots in a row, but the tequila hadn’t had time to kick in before they’d started kissing.

Okay, maybe she’d needed the liquid courage. If so, it sure had worked. She’d moaned so loud when she came he was surprised she hadn’t set off the neighborhood dogs.

Gunner watched her lean over the bar and gesture to something in the back. With her bent at that angle, the guys were more interested in looking down her V-neck top than what she was pointing at.

He had to turn away. His insides were churning and he didn’t trust himself to stay cool. If he caused a commotion, she’d never forgive him.

With more elbow grease than was necessary, he finished cleaning up his mess and let the sink fill with hot sudsy water while he poured himself a beer. Damn, he wanted something stronger. That would have to wait. After she closed, maybe they could sit down like two adults and figure this thing out.

“We have a dishwasher,” Elaine said, setting down her tray and watching him lower glasses into the steaming sink.

“It’s too small for this crowd. It’ll be okay for normal nights.”

“Obviously you’re a friend of Mallory’s,” the petite brunette said. “I’m guessing you’re from LA, but you’re not a bartender.”

“You got customers complaining about the drinks?”

“I should’ve said you don’t look like one.” Her gaze roamed his shoulders, his chest, then down to his boots. “With that tan, you must spend a lot of time outdoors. And you sure didn’t get those arms from pouring whiskey. You could be a cowboy, I suppose, but I don’t think so.” She met his eyes and laughed. “Honey, I’ve got a husband and two teenagers. I took this job to get away from them, but I still love all three of ’em to death. So don’t you worry, I’m just nosy.”

Gunner dried his hands and took another pull of his beer. “There’s a tanning salon at the gym where I work out.”

Elaine’s frown eased to a grin. “You’re just piling it on, aren’t you?”

He glanced over to see what was keeping Mallory. “Now, why would I do that?”

“Wait. You came in with Ben, so I’ll bet you’re a stuntman out there in California.”

“That’s one possibility.”

“Although...” Elaine squinted at him as if the right guess came with a thousand-dollar prize. “It sounds like you got a trace of Texas in your voice.”

Bullshit.