Convenient Cowgirl Bride

“I’m Savannah Wolfe.”

She said it as though he should know the name. He didn’t. “Yeah, and?”

“I... I have permission to be here. Kade—”

“No one has permission to be here.”

“But—” Her face flushed as her temper flared. Chase discovered he liked putting that color in her cheeks.

“No one, wildcat, especially not you.”

“Stop calling me that.”

He showed her the four red marks on the inside of his forearm. “I think it fits. However, as much as I’d like to play, you’re not staying. Get your stuff and get out.”

“But—”

“We can do this like civilized people or I can call Security and have you arrested for trespassing.”

“But—”

He pulled his cell from his hip pocket. “Tired of the buts, cat.”

“I—”

He hit a button and she dropped her gaze.

“Fine. Get out so I can get dressed.”

“Not happenin’, girl.” He snagged her boots and tossed them to her. She caught them easily.

“Fine. If you get off on watchin’, then you are a big ol’ pervert.” She strode over to another chair and grabbed her jeans and a plaid shirt. An old canvas duffel bag slouched on the floor next to the chair. She had her shirt on but not buttoned and one leg in her jeans when Security hit the doorway.

“Problem, Mr. Barron?”

“Not anymore. Please escort this woman off the premises.”

The dark-suited security officer didn’t give Savannah a chance to get dressed. He snagged her bag, draped it over her shoulder, grabbed her boots and jammed them into her chest, gripped her arm and frog-marched her out. Sputtering and cussing, the girl did her best to get her jeans on. Chase followed them to the door and out into the foyer. He was grinning in the face of her scowl as the elevator doors closed. Pink polka-dotted panties. Now that was a sight he wouldn’t forget any time soon.

Two (#ulink_945ee316-8589-5e92-8f31-7b2730863c49)

Savannah had never been so mortified in her life. She was going to kill Kaden Waite the next time she saw him.

“Chase is in Nashville until after the rodeo,” Kade had told her, knowing money was tight and she’d probably be sleeping in her truck or in Indigo’s stall. “No one will be there. I’ll call the hotel and set it up.”

He had. She’d checked in that night with no problem. The desk clerk had barely looked at her. Either Chase Barron had strange women asking for his card key all the time or Kade had totally smoothed the way. Before her ignominious exit, things had been great. She’d gotten Indigo settled into his stall at the Clark County Fairgrounds and had enough grain left to feed him well. She’d unhooked her horse trailer and parked it in the designated area near the barn before driving to the Strip.

She’d found a place in the Crown Hotel and Casino’s parking lot and locked up her old truck. Not that it would take more than a twist of baling wire to pop the locks. Even with the odometer logging 200,000 miles, the old Ford still got her from rodeo to rodeo. She even had half a tank of gas—hopefully enough to last until she won the barrel event that weekend. And she had to win. She had a total of $175.00 in her checking account and twenty bucks in her pocket.

Then she’d woken up to a strange man in bed with her. The man who lived in that penthouse suite. Chase Barron. All six-plus feet of sexy male with his lean, I-run-on-the-treadmill-every-day body, his silky dark hair and those coffee-colored eyes. She jerked her thoughts back and remembered she’d nailed him in the chest with her boot. He deserved it. He was the world’s biggest jerk.

The security guy mostly ignored her, but the walls of the elevator were polished to the point they might as well have been mirrors. She struggled into her jeans, got them buttoned and her belt buckled. He didn’t give her time to dig a pair of socks out of her duffel. Marching her barefoot across the lobby to the obvious entertainment of everyone they encountered just added to her now miserable night.

Security shoved her through the entrance, held open by a smirking doorman. Savannah stumbled a few steps, found her balance and moved to a granite planter. Plopping her butt on the edge of it, she glared at the man standing over her, ready to snatch her up to keep her moving. “Hold your frickin’ horses, dude. I’m putting on my socks and boots.”

It took her a minute to stamp her boots on. Straightening to her full height, chin up, she offered him her glaringest glare. “I can find my way out.”

Turning on her heel, head still high, she stomped across the valet drive and headed into the crowded lot. Her truck was parked in the far corner. She kept walking, and about three rows in, her escort dropped back, then stopped altogether. She ducked behind an RV, and when she peeked back, he was returning to the hotel.

Still seething, she found her truck, only to discover the front tire was flat. That made her choice easy. Rather than driving back to the fairgrounds to sleep in Indy’s stall, she’d sleep in the truck. She was too tired to change the tire tonight. Crawling inside, she swiped at her cheeks. She didn’t have the spare time or energy to waste on tears. She would be back here in Las Vegas come December, competing in the Wrangler National Finals Rodeo, but that meant she had to be at her best for this week’s qualifying rodeo. February was a late start but she was determined.

She pushed her duffel against the passenger door, stretched across the bench seat and jerked the Indian blanket off the back of the seat to cover her legs. She would deal with everything in the morning, including calling Mr. Kaden “I’ll fix it” Waite to tell him not to do her any more favors.

Savannah sat straight up, cussing. She couldn’t call Kade. She couldn’t call anyone. Her phone was plugged in, charging on the nightstand, next to the bed belonging to the jackass who lived on the fiftieth floor of the monster hotel looming just beyond her windshield. Dammit. She would have to face the man again in the morning. With her luck, the jerk face would just throw her phone away when he found it, which would suck because she didn’t have the money to get a new one.

Snatching a baseball cap off the headache rack behind the seat, she put it on and pulled the bill over her eyes. She had to sleep or she’d be sluggish tomorrow. She needed to work Indy in the arena because he’d been off training for three weeks. Her horse needed to settle and be in shape to get a good time for the first round. If her time wasn’t fast enough, there wouldn’t be a second round and she’d be in a world of economic hurt. She was already two rodeos behind on getting points and winnings.

Savvie thumped her duffel and sought a more comfortable position. She eventually drifted off.

* * *

Just before dawn, Chase found the woman’s phone, when it buzzed on his nightstand. Irritated, he rolled over and grabbed it, ready to throw it against the far wall until he saw Kaden calling on the screen. It was the ranch manager of the Crown B. Curious, he answered.

“Yeah?”

“Uh...is Savannah around?”

“No.”

“Where is she?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Who is this?”

“Chase Barron.”

Silence stretched for a long moment before Kade replied. “Chase? Kaden Waite. I thought you were in Nashville.”

“I was until last night. Found someone in my bed, Kade.”

“Damn. I’m sorry. Chance and Cord told me it’d be all right if Savvie stayed in your place while you were gone. They expected you to be in Nashville for at least another two weeks. The rodeo is over Saturday night and Sav would be back on the road Sunday.”

“She your girlfriend?” Chase didn’t expect the burst of laughter from the other man.

“Kissing her would be like kissing my sister. Our mothers were tight and we grew up practically next door to each other.”

“So she’s Chickasaw?” That would help explain the sleek, black hair, carved cheekbones and snapping brown eyes.