Corralled (2 page)

“Maybe.” She smiled against his throat.

He wasn’t much of a dancer, so he employed every seductive tactic he’d stockpiled over the years to draw her attention away from his two left feet. Brushing his thumb at the base of her neck.

Gradually easing his thigh between hers. Swaying to the beat of the music while their bodies moved to a rhythm uniquely theirs.

The final chord of the tune rang out. He spun them until her back was to the main part of the bar.

She tried to push him away. “Kyle. Let go.”

“Not until you give me a kiss.”

“But I can’t. Not here where everyone can see—”

Kyle settled his mouth over hers, treating her to the lazy kisses that always distracted her.

A soft protest exited her mouth, which he swallowed in an

9 CORRALLED

other kiss. She thought too much. Worried too much. The best way to turn off her overactive brain was to turn her on in a whole

’nother way.

As luck would have it, that was one thing Kyle was very good at.

9

Hank Lawson paced in the shadow of the sleazy honky- tonk. “No, sir. I understand. Yes.” He grinned at the phone. “I’m committed to the next three weeks. Uh- huh. Well, sir— all right, Bryson— it’s a good opportunity for me to work with some of the rankest bulls in the CRA. No. I’ll cut it short if I have to. Absolutely, I’ll be there. Tulsa. Looking forward to it.” He clicked the phone off and pumped his fist into the air.

“Yes!” Hank couldn’t wait to tell . . . He stopped. Wait a second. He couldn’t tell anyone. Dammit. That sucked. Biggest news of his career and he had to keep a lid on it.

Bullfighting. In the EBS. It was a callback from his pretryout test last month at a second- tier event.

As much as Hank loved bullfighting in the CRA, for a bullfighter, the EBS was the big time. More money. TV coverage.

More sponsorships. Fans. And he wasn’t supposed to tell anyone?

Screw that. Hank scrolled through his contact list and hit Dial.

“Hank?” she answered breathlessly. “What’s up?”

“News, but promise me it’ll stay under your hat.”

“Fine. Spill it fast because I’m short on time.”

The noise in the background sounded like she was at a rodeo.

“I scored another audition with the EBS.”

She squealed. “Seriously? That’s awesome! When?”

“A couple of weeks. Once I’m done with Cowboy Christmas.”

“They couldn’t get you in sooner?”

“Bryson asked if I’d be available for the Huntington Beach event next week, but I can’t. I’ve already committed to—”

LORELEI JAMES 9

“God, Hank, why can’t you let Gilly navigate the CRA trail on his own? It ain’t like he’s a rookie.”

He scowled. Would she ever get over her beef with his buddy?

Probably not. The girl held a grudge like nobody’s business. “I’m not goin’ on the road as a favor to Gilly. Truth is, I’m doin’ this for me.”

“For the money?”

“Partially. But the more bulls I can get on the next three weeks, the better my chances in the EBS.”

“Unless you get stomped by one and blow your goddamn big chance,” she retorted.

“Thanks for the confidence, sis,” he groused.

“I have the utmost confidence in you, bro. It’s the bulls I don’t trust. That said, I really
am
excited for you.”

“I know you are. Remember, you can’t tell anyone.”

“Not even Abe?”

“I’ll tell him.”

“You’d better. But I’m afraid he won’t be as thrilled. Come to think of it, if you do get picked, it’ll be more work for me at the ranch. Maybe I oughta be rooting for the bulls.”

Hank laughed softly.

“Glad I amuse you. Shit. I’m up. Later.”

He said, “Up for what?” to the dial tone. He glanced at the time. Damn. He’d been outside for thirty minutes. Not only hadn’t he said hello to Lainie yet— and wouldn’t she be surprised to see him— but he’d left Gilly hanging. Too bad he hadn’t introduced them before he’d taken the call. He headed back inside.

The flashing lights from the stage show inside the honky- tonk screwed with his eyes. Hank blinked a couple times, scanning the tables. The band wailed a decent cover of Billy Currington’s latest love song.

He stopped at the bar and ordered three Coors Lights. Hank

9 CORRALLED

felt like a fish swimming upstream, juggling three bottles of beer as the people rushed off the dance floor after the tune ended. He’d made it to the table he’d spotted Lainie and her friend sitting at earlier, but there was no sign of her now.

Huh. Hank looked around the bar. No sign of Gilly either.

His gaze wandered to the dance floor. One couple hadn’t left yet, oblivious to the fact the music had stopped. They were twined together, mouths fused, body pressed to body.

Hank squinted. Hey. Wait a minute. Was that . . . ?

Holy fucking shit. That
was
Lainie— his Lainie— in a clinch with some happy- handed cowboy.

Fury filled him. He’d fucking lay the bastard out cold.
Come on,
asshole— show me your face so I can figure out where I’m gonna put the
first bruise.

Then the loser in the cowboy hat kissing Hank’s goddamn woman lifted his head.

Not just any cowboy had his hands and mouth on Lainie;
Gilly
had his hands and mouth on Lainie.

Hank’s stomach dropped. And so did the bottles of beer.

Lainie and Gilly looked at him at the same time the raucous crowd broke into applause at his clumsiness.

The cocktail waitress snapped, “Maybe you oughta think about drinkin’ one at a time, buddy.”

But he couldn’t tear his eyes off them. Tempting to punch his buddy in the kisser for kissing her. Equally tempting to pull Lainie outside and ask her what the hell was going on.

The couple stopped right in front of him.

Hank calmly said, “Lainie, sweetheart, I was gonna introduce you to my good buddy Gilly, but I see you two have already met.”

$IBQUFS5XP

9

/
o way. This isn’t happening. Any second, my alarm will blare and
I’ll wake up. Wake up and laugh hysterically.

“Hank, you know Mel?” Kyle asked.

Wake up, wake up, wake up.

“Intimately. Except I know her as Lainie. Right, darlin’?”

Any second now, the buzzing would jar her straight out of a dead sleep. And boy, wouldn’t she welcome that intrusion for a change.

Kyle frowned. “Why is that name familiar?”

“Because that’s her name, dumb ass,” Hank snapped. “Lainie Capshaw. She’s a med tech with Lariat Sports. Is that ringing a bell?”

Comprehension dawned. Kyle’s head whipped toward her, his jaw nearly hanging to his championship belt buckle. “Your name isn’t Mel?”

Shit. Busted. She was so freakin’ busted.

Kyle faced Hank. “You’re with her too?”

“
Too?
” Hank repeated. He didn’t spare Lainie a glance. He shoved Kyle. “You’d better be fuckin’ kiddin’, Gilly.”

“Don’t fuckin’ push me, Lawson.” Kyle pushed Hank back.

9 CORRALLED

Broken glass crunched beneath their booted feet.

“Back off,” Hank snarled.

“You back off first.”

“Not a fuckin’ chance.”

Kyle sneered, “Bring it, asshole.”

A crowd gathered, anticipating a fight.

Should she jump between them and put a stop to this?

“Who’s up for a wet T-shirt contest?”

All eyes zoomed to Tanna, standing on a table at the front of the bar. She’d stripped to an itty- bitty see- through white tank top, which showed the outline of her nipples in full detail, as well as the deep vee of her impressive cleavage.

Lainie’s gaze briefly connected with Tanna’s and her friend mouthed,
Go!
before she poured a bottle of beer on her chest.

Male whoops of appreciation echoed and Lainie ran as if the hounds of hell were chasing her. As she cut out the side door, her brain ran rampant with questions. What were the odds that both her men would show up here tonight? Or worse, that they’d know each other?

Stop thinking and run!

Boot steps slapped the pavement behind her. A hand landed on her shoulder, jerking her to a stop.

“Mel, please. Wait. Don’t run off. It won’t solve a damn thing.”

Breathing hard, she didn’t protest when Kyle whirled her around. No hint of amusement danced in his green eyes. His hands slid down to her arms and curled around her biceps, keeping her in place.

She braced herself for his recriminations. Angry words and accusations about her loose moral character would make it easier to walk away. Easier than admitting the truth: She wasn’t sorry for her hanky- panky with Hank or for getting her kicks with Kyle. She was just sorry she’d gotten caught.

LORELEI JAMES 9

“What’s goin’ on? I’m confused as hell,” Kyle said.

“That makes two of us.”

“No. That makes three of us,” Hank said as he sidled up beside Kyle.

Lainie tried to squirm out of Kyle’s gentle hold, but his fingers tightened.

“Let her go,” Hank said sharply.

Kyle’s eyes searched hers. “Is that what you want?”

She nodded and he immediately released her.

“Step away from her, Gilly,” Hank warned.

Kyle shoved him. “You first.”

Hank shoved him back. “Keep it up and I’ll hand you your ass.”

“Try it,” Kyle taunted.

“Stop it. Both of you.” She wrapped her arms around herself and stepped sideways so she could see both men.

They were pissed. Rightly so.

The brutal silence caused her to blurt, “I’d say I never meant this to happen, but I doubt you’ll believe me.”

“Try us,” Kyle said.

“Obviously I had no idea you guys were friends.” She paused and her gaze flicked between them. “How good of friends?”

“Why does it matter?” Hank asked brusquely.

“It just does.”

“Me ’n’ Hank have been friends since junior high,” Kyle said.

Lainie bit back a groan. It figured. “For the record, I’ve never, ever done anything like this in my entire life. So it’s no surprise . . .”

A headache built behind her eyes, making the sockets ache and her temples pound.

Do not cry. You will not pull those goddamn crocodile tears like your
mother would. Buck up and face the music.

Wrong. Run!

9 CORRALLED

“I have to go. Right now.”

“Now, wait just a damn minute. We’re all adults here—”

She focused on Hank. “Did you or did you not get into a shoving match with Kyle when you saw us together?”

He scowled. “It caught me off guard, okay?”

“Me too,” Kyle said. “You must know neither one of us is the type of man to back down.”

Lainie threw her hands up. “Which is precisely my point.”

“We aren’t gonna come to blows over you,” Hank scoffed.

“You’re right. You won’t. Because
I’m
backing down.
I’m
breaking it off with both of you.”

9

“Lainie. Come back here so we can talk about this,” Hank shouted.

Her wild curls bounced against her rigid back with every hurried boot step. She never stopped. She never looked back.

When she climbed in her truck, Hank started after her.

A strong grip on his forearm and a curt, “Let her go,” stopped him.

Hank shifted to glare at Gilly. “What the fuck? Maybe you don’t want her, but I sure as hell do. I ain’t letting her go when she’s like this.”

Gilly got right in his face— a feat in itself, since the man was six inches shorter. “Don’t think for a second I don’t want Mel as badly as you do. But goin’ after her when she has this stubborn mind- set is a fool’s errand, and you damn well know it. I won’t have you fucking up my chance with her because you’re too damn dense to let her be.”

“Stop calling her Mel,” Hank snapped. “Her name is Lainie.”

“Stop bein’ such a dickhead,” Kyle shot back. “And for chrissake, if you’re gonna be such a picky bastard about names, how about if you get mine right? I ain’t been Gilly since I left Muddy Gap, Hank. The name is Kyle.”

LORELEI JAMES 9

“Fine,
Kyle
.”

The back door to the bar burst open, releasing a blast of steel guitar. Hank glanced in that direction, away from the dust plume as Lainie’s truck barreled off. A woman’s drunken whoop echoed, followed by a man’s laughter, and the door banged shut again.

Hank scowled. This was how his evening played out? Standing in the parking lot of a honky- tonk? At ten o’clock at night? Completely sober, completely pissed, completely confused on how he and his buddy ended up fucking the same woman?

Kyle sighed. “Look. I need a damn beer, but the thought of heading back into the bar turns my stomach.”

“Yeah. Me too. There’s a package store around the corner.”

Five minutes later, laden with a six- pack, Hank climbed into his truck next to Kyle. He set the brown bag on the center seat, tempted to crack a bottle— to hell with the open- container law. He needed a damn drink now.

The lights of Lamar zoomed past the truck windows. Hank had half a mind to whip a U- turn and drive out to the rodeo grounds. At least if they were getting drunk with a group of rowdy cowboys, they wouldn’t be commiserating about having the hots for the same sexy- assed sports med tech.

“You thinking about her?” Kyle asked.

“Yeah. Are you?”

“Always.”

Great. Hank knew Lainie starred in plenty of sexual fantasies of cowboys on the CRA circuit. He’d never expected she’d been part of his friend’s sexual reality.

“How long have you been seein’ her, Hank?”

“Roughly six months.” As much as Hank didn’t want to ask, he did. “How about you?”

“Two months.”

9 CORRALLED

Hank couldn’t stop the smug feeling over having been with Lainie longer than Kyle.

Yeah? If you’re in with her so damn good, then why’d she go looking
for another man to knock boots with?

Damn.

“What’d she treat you for?” Kyle asked.

“Pulled my Achilles.”

It’d pissed him off too, pulling a muscle during a performance.

Instead of the usual gruff med tech, Lainie stepped up. Hank had scoffed at the little slip of a woman. How was she supposed to fix him if she could barely assist him onto the exam table? But as Hank half listened to her questions, he watched her. Her hair color was odd— somewhere between dark brown and rich red, a shade that reminded him of his quarter horse’s glossy coat. Hank kept that observation to himself; few women found humor or flattery within workhorse comparisons.