Come Closer, Cowboy

Gunner plunged his hands into the sudsy water—the very hot sudsy water—and bit back a curse. Hell, he’d left home at fifteen and wanted nothing to do with Texas. The dirty stinking town where he grew up was only half the size of Blackfoot Falls. So if your mom was the town tramp, everybody knew it.

A customer called for Elaine and she picked up her tray. “You’d better be nice to me,” she said, grinning. “I’m the only person standing between you and your fan club over there.”

He didn’t have to look to know which table she meant. The three women were from San Diego and staying at the Sundance Ranch. They’d been driving him nuts. He didn’t go for the hair-twirling, lip-licking crap.

That was one great thing about Mallory. She didn’t play games or work at being sexy. Of course with those big green eyes, generous mouth and killer body she didn’t have to do anything.

So why the new clothes? She had no business looking hot as hell. Was this her turning over a new leaf? Making a fresh start? Had she been trying to get away from him? All she’d had to do was tell him to get lost.

One of the Sundance women had a thing for Blake Shelton, and had “Honey Bee” on repeat. Once he got the glasses washed he was gonna unplug that damn jukebox.

“It seems we’ve died down a bit.” Mallory’s voice startled him. “There’s no reason for you to stick around. Go be with Ben and Grace.”

He drained his beer and looked at her. She was close. A couple feet away, her eyes full of uncertainty. “You look nice.”

“Thanks.” Her gaze flickered and lowered. “So do you.”

“We have to talk.”

“Please, Gunner. Not here. Please.”

“You don’t return my calls.”

“I know. But I was busy getting moved out of the Renegade and then—” She shook her head, looked away. “You’re right. I have no excuse. I should’ve talked to you.”

“Damn right you should have.” He was getting worked up again, seeing her hang her head like a whipped dog. Looking as if he’d treated her badly. She was in the wrong, not him.

“Pardon me, but could I get another rum and Coke?”

Gunner recognized the husky voice before he glanced at the flirty redhead. “Just a minute,” he said and turned back to Mallory.

She stared back at him for a second and then rolled her eyes. “Is that with a lime?” she asked the woman and grabbed the rum.

“Yes, lime, a wedge on the rim and another squeezed in the drink. And no offense, but I really like the way he makes it.”

Mallory darted him a look, the expression on her face not one he’d seen before. When she finally smiled, it didn’t fool him. She seemed sad, and he didn’t understand why.

To get rid of the redhead, he stepped in and made her drink. Mallory turned and before she could walk away, he said, “Hey, don’t run off.”

She just glanced at him as she bent to check the dishwasher. He slid the rum and Coke toward the woman and went to Mallory. He almost reached for her hand, but thought better of it. Part of him wanted to comfort her, the other part was having trouble controlling his temper.

“Why?” he asked, careful to keep his voice low. “Just tell me why.”

“Gunner...” Her head down, she opened the dishwasher. Steam poured out. He caught her arm to pull her away just as she jerked back.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I thought the heat cycle was finished.”

“Let me see,” he said, brushing the hair away from her face.

“I’m fine.” The warning tone in her voice was enough. She didn’t have to flinch from his touch.

Anger flared inside him, and then simmered to concern when he noticed the red blotch. “You have a small burn,” he said, nodding at her chin.

Her hand shot to her cheek.

“Closer to your—” Screw it. He directed her unsteady fingers to the spot. “Where’s the first-aid kit?” The one she’d kept at the Renegade had been put to good use.

“I don’t know. I’m still unpacking stuff.”

“I saw a store on the way here. I’ll go—”

Mallory shook her head. “Everything is closed by now.” She probed around the reddened skin. “It doesn’t feel bad. I’ll be okay.” Turning toward Ben and Grace, she gave them a self-conscious smile. Then she looked at Gunner again and the soft expression in her eyes told him right then and there he’d done the right thing by coming to Montana. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”

“Tell them?” His confusion took a second to clear. “Christ, give me some credit.” Shaking his head, he picked up the pile of tip money people had left him and stuffed it in Elaine’s jar on the back shelf.

“Where are you going?” Mallory almost sounded like she cared.

He knew better. “To find a friendlier bar,” he said, and almost plowed into Elaine as he headed for the door.

* * *

GUNNER HAD JUST finished his first shot of tequila when Ben entered the Watering Hole. Figured he hadn’t been far behind. The place was dead except for a pair of pool players in the back and a table of old-timers laughing at each other’s lame jokes. He wished they’d keep it down.

“Hey, Nikki,” Ben said as he took the barstool next to Gunner.

The pretty, dark-haired bartender stopped restocking the fridge and turned. “Hey yourself,” she said. “What can I get you?”

Gunner pushed his empty shot glass toward her.

“Beer for me,” Ben said, and inclined his head at Gunner. “He’s buying.”

“Sure.” Gunner snorted. “Why not? In fact, pour something for yourself, darlin’, and put it on my tab.”

Nikki glanced at him, smiled at Ben, then got his beer and Gunner’s shot.

“You might as well leave the bottle,” Gunner said when she turned to put the tequila back on the shelf.

“Nope. I don’t do that.” She leaned a hip against the back bar. “How’s Mallory holding up?”

Gunner grunted and tossed back the liquor. He felt Ben staring at him. Of course he was going to have questions. And Gunner had no idea what to tell him.

“She’s doing all right, considering she should’ve had two more waitresses working,” Ben said. “Gunner was helping make drinks until a few minutes ago.”

The bartender gave him a curious look. “I’m Nikki McAllister,” she said, leaning forward and shaking hands with him.

“Gunner.” He saw a gold wedding band on her finger.