Boots and Twisters (15 page)

Audrey ducked her head back into the room. “One more thing…” She entered carrying a brush, an elastic band and a handful of hairpins. “Let’s get all that glorious hair up to show off that beautiful long neck.”

Lucky wanted to protest that her neck wasn’t beautiful, but Audrey took charge, pushed her into a chair and went to work. In less than two minutes, she had Lucky’s hair pulled up on top of her head in a loose, messy bun with tendrils hanging down her back and beside her ears. She hauled out a bag of makeup and applied powder, blush, eyeliner and mascara to Lucky’s face, topping it all off with a layer of pale pink lipstick and gloss.

When she was done, she planted her hands on her hips and studied Lucky. “Wow. Who knew a beautiful woman was hiding under those baggy clothes?” Then she clapped her hands. “Get your boots on. We have work to do.” Audrey whisked out, leaving Lucky’s head spinning.

Pulling on her boots, she jumped up and ran for the door, catching a glimpse of herself in a full-length mirror as she passed by. She skidded to a stop and gasped. The woman staring back at her didn’t look anything like Lucky Albright. This person had long slender legs, a cute, rounded ass, tight abs and full, ample breasts. Hell, she looked like a model for one of those hot rod magazines the ranch hands used to keep under their bunks. The kind who sprawled across the hoods of shiny cars or straddled wicked-looking motorcycles.

Part of her wanted to cover her exposed skin. The vixen she’d only recently discovered on the Triple J Ranch was screaming
hallelujah
!

With an uncustomary giggle, she threw open the door to the prop room and ran smack dab into a hard wall of muscle.

Hands reached out to steady her and a familiar voice said, “Pardon me, miss.”

When Lucky glanced up, she could actually see the moment recognition hit Trent Jameson.

His eyes widened, his nostrils flared and his fingers tightened on her arms. “Lucky?”

She felt a surge of power and pushed her shoulders back.

His gaze dropped to the swell of her breasts and heat flared in her core.

Schooling her voice to calm when her insides were rioting with desire and nervousness, she said, “Oh, hey, Trent, I was just on my way out to wait on tables. Is there something I can do for you?”

His wide eyes narrowed and his lips thinned. “You can put your clothes back on for one. And wipe that makeup off your face.”

She stepped back far enough his hands dropped from her arms. When she tried to step around him, he moved to block her. “Please move. I’m working.”

“As what?” he demanded. “What did Mrs. Rutledge call it?”

Anger roiled up inside her and, before she could think straight, she slapped Trent’s face. “I let that woman get away with calling me a whore. But I’ll be damned if I let you. I didn’t have sex with you for money. This is my time off. I can do whatever the hell I please. So get out of my way.”

“You can’t go out there like that. Those men are animals.”

She stood with her hands fisted on her hips. “And you’re better than they are?”

He opened his mouth to say something, and then snapped it shut.

“Thought so.” Lucky raised her brows, adjusted the vest over her top, exposing even more skin. “Now allow me to pass.”

Trent stepped aside. As she marched by him, he grumbled.

Mimicking the models she’d seen on runway shows on television, she put one booted foot in front of the other, emphasizing the sway of her hips.

Take that, Trent Jameson!

As she neared the end of the hallway, she looked back over her shoulder.

His brows were drawn into a heavy frown.

Lucky tossed her head and stepped out, ready to face the crowd of rowdy cowboys and whatever they had to dish out.

And she walked right into one of the waitresses, carrying a loaded tray of full beer mugs, bottles and wineglasses.

The tray flipped, the mugs tumbled off, crashing to the floor, some landed in a customer’s lap, others broke into pieces when they hit the hardwood floor.

The man whose lap got the worst of it jumped, his chair tipped backward and he fell over onto a cowboy who had just risen to hit the dance floor. That customer when flying into the lap of a pretty woman with a big, burly cowboy date.

“Hey! That’s my girl,” Burly Boy bellowed.

Lucky watched in horror as the big guy lifted the other cowboy up by the scruff of his neck and slammed a fist into his face.

He flew backward, landing in the lap of yet another woman and the fight was on.

Men threw punches, women screamed and some lifted chairs to crash down over men beating up on their dates.

Audrey leaped onto the bar stuck two fingers into her mouth and whistled long and loud.

Burly Boy swung one last time, the guy he hit spun around and landed on Lucky, who staggered backward into Trent’s arms.

“Who’s here to have fun?” Audrey shouted. She nodded toward the seasoned waitresses who clambered up onto the bar in their cutoffs and boots.

A faded
Yeehaw
could barely be heard over the squeals of the electric guitars.

“Seriously? My girls don’t dance unless they have your undivided attention.” Audrey raised her eyebrows and asked, “Soooo… Who’s here to have fun?”

A rousing
Yeehaw
shook the rafters. Cowboys and cowgirls alike clapped and whistled, straightening the chairs and tables and settling the woozy ones back in their seats.

The band struck up the tune to “Save a Horse, Ride a Cowboy” and the waitresses on the bar kicked up their heels and danced in unison.

While the dancers had the saloon’s attention, Lucky hurriedly cleaned up the spilled beer and broken glass. Trent and Isaac helped, making quick work of the effort.

By the time the dancing was over, the saloon was in order and the band played “Cotton-Eyed Joe” to get everyone up and on the dance floor, even those with black eyes, busted lips and bruised knuckles.

The waitresses went back to work serving drinks, nachos and buffalo wings.

Audrey slipped up beside Lucky.

“Audrey, I’m so sorry. I was coming out to help and—”

She raised her hand, a smile tugging at her lips. “I don’t want to know. I just need help out there on the floor. And try not to start a riot this time.” She winked to take the edge off her words, then showed Lucky the set of tables she was to cover and left her to it.

The saloon owner could have shown her to the door and banned her from ever coming in again. But she hadn’t.

Lucky fought an uncharacteristic rush of tears. She didn’t deserve the second and third chance, but, by golly, she’d show Audrey she wasn’t a lost cause, someone who should be thrown out of town because of circumstances beyond her control.

She liked it here, she liked her jobs and the two men who’d invited her into their house and onto their ranch. Damn it, she intended to make it her home.

Trent sat with Isaac at a corner table, nursing the same beer he’d ordered an hour before.

Isaac drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “You plan on sitting here all night?”

Trent nodded. “Yup.”

“Expecting more trouble?”

“Yup.”

“Why is it trouble seems to follow our Lucky?”

“Our Lucky?”

“I hired her.”

“She’s not a horse to be owned.”

“If she was, she’d be a prize thoroughbred with those long, sexy legs.” Isaac stared across the saloon at Lucky as she loaded a tray with beer mugs and wove through the crowded room, smiling and laughing at the customers. She wasn’t as natural at the waitress thing as the other ladies, but she was making a good show of it. The cowboys liked her and she managed to get the orders right.

Twice she’d returned to their table to get their orders. Each time she’d blushed, her cheeks turning a pretty shade of pink beneath her tan.

Her all-American, girl-next-door look shined through the fancy hair and makeup Audrey had duded her up with.

“She looks so different from the ranch hand of a couple hours ago.” Isaac grinned. “Damn, she’s got killer legs.”

A stab of something like anger ripped through Trent’s gut. He knew she had great legs. He’d seen her naked in the swimmin’ hole. And he wasn’t sure he liked all the rowdy cowboys ogling those mighty-fine legs.

“I like her better without all the makeup,” Trent mused.

“I don’t know. She’s pretty hot the way she’s put together tonight.” Isaac stood.

Trent sat up straighter. “Where are you headed?”

“Thought I’d stretch my legs.”

Trent spied Lucky ducking into the back of bar that led to the rear exit. He pushed to his feet.

“Where are you going?” Isaac asked.

“Going to see a man about a horse.”

Isaac shook his head. “I’ll never understand how that saying came about.”

“Guess it all depends on the horse,” Trent said with a grin. “I’ll be back shortly.”

Isaac aimed for the dance floor while Trent ducked through the front entrance. He glanced up at the night sky. After the heat of the day, and the crowd inside the saloon, the cool night air and the sparkling stars above calmed him like it always did.

He didn’t get these kinds of night skies in Houston. With the light pollution as bad as it was, he was lucky to see any stars from the windows of his apartment. That was one thing he missed most about living on the ranch. The sky.

Trent headed around the side of the saloon to the back where Lucky had parked the truck, pausing at the corner to observe her as she inched toward the vehicle, carrying a bowl of liquid that spilled a little with each step.

When she reached the truck, she hesitated.

“Let me help you.” Isaac stepped out of the rear entrance to the bar.

“Oh, Isaac, good.” Lucky tilted her head toward her right side. “My keys are in my pocket. Can you get them out and open the door for me?”

Isaac grinned. “Gladly.” He came up behind her and stood so close, Trent’s teeth ground together. “This pocket?” he asked. “I don’t feel any.”

Lucky giggled. “That tickles. I guess they’re in the other pocket.”

Before Isaac could reach into her other pocket, Trent stepped out. “Having difficulties?”

Lucky jerked, splashing water on the ground. “Oh, Trent. You startled me.”

“I was just getting Lucky’s keys out for her.” Isaac reached for her pocket.

“Just the keys,” Trent said in a low dangerous tone.

“Testy, aren’t we?” Isaac chuckled and held up the keys. “What did you think I was after?” Isaac winked from behind Lucky’s back and stuck the key in the lock and opened the old truck’s door.

Otis leaped out and would have gotten away if Trent hadn’t grabbed him by the scruff and said, “Sit.”

As if he recognized the command in Trent’s tone, Otis squatted, his tail sweeping the dirt.

“Hello, Otis. How’s it going?” Lucky lowered to her haunches, placing the water bowl in front of the dog.

Otis lapped the water while Lucky unwrapped a napkin filled with slices of barbeque brisket.

Before she had it completely free of the paper napkin, Otis snatched the meat from her hand practically taking her fingers with it.

“Hey, big guy. It’s okay. There’s more where that came from.” Trent removed his belt and slipped it around the animal’s neck then led him to the grass on the edge of the parking area where the dog could do his business.

When he’d taken care of his business, Otis loped over to Lucky and sniffed her hands.

“Sorry, boy.” Lucky scratched Otis’s ears and stroked his back. “I have to get back to work. You’ll have to wait to eat dinner when we get home.”

Home. Something pinched hard in Trent’s heart. Hearing Lucky call the Triple J Ranch
home
did something to him. He’d never really considered it home. Not since he’d left swearing he’d never return.

Lucky turned to go back inside.

Isaac captured her elbow and smiled down at her. “I’ll walk you back.”

They were halfway to the door when Lucky glanced over her shoulder. “Aren’t you coming, Trent?”

With his heart squeezing tightly in his chest and his stomach knotting, he shook his head. “I wanted to get some air. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Lucky hesitated another moment, her eyes shining in the light from the corner of the building. “Don’t be too long.”

His gaze followed her until she disappeared inside the saloon.

Then he turned and walked away, out onto the highway and a half a mile down the road before he stopped. What was he doing?

The woman had burst into his world, upended his life like she’d upended the tray of drinks earlier that evening. Before she’d appeared, Trent hadn’t really wanted to keep the ranch. After his father died, he’d wanted to sell it, get out of Temptation and resume his life in Houston as if coming back to the Triple J had just been a formality. Working with his brother had brought them closer, but he’d still straddled the fence about selling versus keeping the ranch.