Rough Riders Bundle 1(books 1, 2, 3) (71 page)

Ky’s mother, Marla, had called out of the blue, demanding to see their son.

The son she’d abandoned.

Naturally, Cord flat-out refused. Then Marla turned nasty and threatened to drag Cord to court, throwing around words like “joint custody” and “parental rights.” Words that sent shudders down his spine and ice into his soul.

Kyler McKay was his son.
His
. Marla had handed over Ky’s care to him the day he’d been born. She’d lasted only a few months after Ky’s birth before she’d hightailed it back to Seattle for a temporary separation. A tearful Marla returned to Wyoming a year later with her tail tucked between her legs, full of apologies, proclaiming she’d changed, wanting another chance to make things—their marriage and motherhood—work.

She’d only lasted three weeks that time.

Cord had filed for divorce. Marla hadn’t contested it, as she hadn’t contested his demand of full, sole, permanent custody of Ky.

No doubt he struggled as a single parent, but luckily his family lived nearby and they helped him out. Consequently, Ky was a happy, bright, well-adjusted, four-year-old boy surrounded by uncles, aunts and grandparents. Ky didn’t need a mother and they sure as shootin’ didn’t need her. Cord had told Marla as much over the phone.

But Marla wouldn’t back down about the visitation rights. Cord took the matter to his attorney. The lawyer’s advice was to let the boy stay with his mother for the seven-week period she’d requested. It surprised Cord when his own mother sided with the lawyer, claiming it would be good for both Ky and Cord.

Seven days ago he and Ky had hopped a plane and flew to Seattle. Cord insisted on being there as a safety net before he passed Ky over to Marla, a mother Ky didn’t remember at all.

Leaving his son in the care of a virtual stranger hundreds of miles from home was the hardest thing Cord had ever done. A million bad scenarios raced through his mind. He’d almost turned around and flew right back to Seattle after he’d landed in Denver. Let his brothers and cousins run the massive McKay ranch for a few weeks. God knew, Cord had pulled their weight more than a time or two. They owed him.

Cord’s mother talked him into coming home, giving Ky time to adjust before making a rash decision. Ky seemed fine whenever Cord talked to him on the phone, which had calmed his fears somewhat.

Somewhat. Damn, he missed his kid something fierce.

So, here he was killing time in the local honky-tonk, wondering how he’d get through the next month and a half without going insane. Wondering if the next time he stumbled over one of Ky’s toys whether he’d break down and bawl like a lost calf.

The chair next to Cord’s squeaked as a big body flopped beside him. He tilted his hat up and saw his cousin Kade’s shit-eating grin.

“Fancy seein’ you here, Cord.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Don’t worry, I know you ain’t here trolling for a piece of ass.” Kade’s dark eyebrows rose in challenge. “Are you?”

“Fuck off.”

Kade’s baritone laugh boomed. “You talk to Ky today?”

“Twice.”

“Cool. How’s the little guy doin’?”

“Good. Misses his horse more than me.”

“Sounds like a typical McKay response. How’re
you
doin’?”

“I’m here, ain’t I?”

“Must mean you’re bored already, huh?” Kade’s gaze swept the bar. “Who you here with?”

“Colt is supposed to show up.”

“He’ll show up late, if at all.” Kade snorted. “Last I knew he was hookin’ up with some stripper from Lusk. I swear he’s nailing three-quarters of the women in the tri-county area.”

“Jealous?”

“Hell yes, I’m jealous. He gets more pussy in a week than I get in a year.”

The haggard waitress dropped off a fresh beer and took Kade’s order. Cord asked, “Is Kane here?”

“Nope. He’s got a hot date. Everyone is getting laid but us, cuz.” He shot Cord a devious look. “Unless you’re lyin’ to yourself, me, and your mama on why you’re really here?”

“Not hardly. I don’t have time for the bullshit that goes along with the privilege of getting my rocks off once or twice.”

“Man, that’s harsh. You telling me you wouldn’t make time if someone came along?”

Cord’s beer stopped halfway to his mouth. His attention wandered to a woman swinging her hips on the dance floor.

Oh yeah. He’d make time for her in a fucking heartbeat.

Holy hell. Her legs went on forever. His gaze started at the heels of her high-heeled silver boots, gradually traveling up along the sexy line of those shapely legs, ending at her luscious ass barely hidden beneath an extremely short denim skirt. When her dance partner twirled her, Cord caught a glimpse of bright red bikini panties.

Lust whomped him in the gut.

He’d been so busy checking out her ass he hadn’t seen her face. Her backside faced him—not that he was complaining—and a cheap straw cowboy hat covered her head. Her strong, tanned arms slid around the wide shoulders of the lucky cowboy as she sashayed closer to grind her pelvis against his. The cowboy whooped, clamping his hands on her ass in a dirty dancing move that’d make Patrick Swayze jealous.

It caused a burst of envy in Cord too. Nonchalantly he asked, “Kade, who’s the chick on the dance floor?”

“Which one?”

“The one with the never ending legs puttin’ on the show in the miniskirt.”

Kade squinted. “You mean AJ?”

AJ? Not a familiar name. “Yeah.”

“She’s quite the dancer, huh?”

“Sure is.”

AJ performed a shimmy-shake with her hips, while snaking her arms above her head. The movement caused her tight lace shirt to slide up, exposing the smooth curve of her lower back.

Cord withheld a groan. Nothing was sexier than that dimpled section of a woman’s back above her ass. Nothing.

With the exception of those unbelievably hot legs.

Every wicked undulation of her hips resulted in the fringe on her skirt swishing across the back of her firm thighs. He’d never been jealous of a skirt before now, but he sure as hell was right then.

“She seein’ the guy she’s dancin’ with?”

“Mikey? Nah. Not for lack of tryin’ on his part. AJ doesn’t lack for partners.”

“I’ll bet.”

“She’s sweet as the day is long. How your sister hasn’t corrupted her is beyond me. She ain’t as wild as Keely, but ain’t for want of volunteers to take her for a walk on the wild side.”

Walk? Hell, Cord would take her for a ride on the wild side. Binding her mile-long legs around his waist as he drove into her hard and fast. Feeling those slender thighs draped over his shoulders as she rode his face.

Jesus. Been an ice age since he’d had a woman, especially a cowboy-toy like her—built for speed with curves that’d lead a man straight into temptation.

Cord nursed his beer, his eyes never straying from her twisting form. Still, something about her seemed…familiar.

AJ threw back her head and laughed. Her straw hat tumbled to the floor.

Come on, baby doll, bend over and pick it up.

She twirled his direction and Cord finally saw her face.

If his lips weren’t pressed against the beer bottle, his jaw would’ve smacked his knees.

The blonde sexpot with the killer legs and fantastic ass was none other than little Amy Jo Foster. His astonished gaze zeroed in on the cleavage spilling out of her V-necked blouse.

Nothing little about her now.

Talk about degenerate behavior. He’d been ogling his much-younger sister’s best friend. His son’s former
babysitter
.

Christ on a crutch.

Good thing she’d never waltzed into his house dressed like that—a sex kitten on the prowl. He’d’ve been arrested for his lewd thoughts alone. Dammit, why couldn’t he stop wondering whether her nipples were pale pink like her lips or cherry red like her undies?

Amy Jo’s large silvery-gray eyes met his for a moment. The
come-hither
smolder she aimed at him nearly knocked him off his damn barstool.

Where’d she learn that “fuck me now, Big Daddy” stare? She was too damn young.

She’s old enough.

And he was old enough to know better.

Wasn’t he?

Apparently not.

Amy Jo shrieked as Mikey lifted her up, gifting Cord with another glimpse of those sexy panties.

Cord bristled at seeing Amy Jo manhandled. Oh, he’d love to teach that pup with the roving paws a thing or two about manners.

Right. You’d love a chance to teach her a thing or two about how a
real
man would handle her.

Before Cord’s butt left the chair to rescue her, Amy Jo broke Mikey’s hold and swooped down to retrieve her hat. This time when their eyes met, she licked her lips and smiled seductively. Wantonly. Like she was picturing him buck-assed nekkid in just his damn hat.

Another wave of lust heated his balls. Then he knew the kiss she’d given him at Carter and Macie’s wedding reception last year hadn’t been a result of too much champagne.

His brain flashed back to the wedding dance at the Bar 9. The early autumn night held a bite of chill as the evening’s festivities were winding down. Dozens of couples boot-scooted on an improvised dance floor beneath a white tent. He’d drifted away from the crowd, preferring to drink a Fat Tire beer alone. Amusing himself by watching Ky and a couple of boys chasing giggling girls around in the preschool version of two-stepping.

A swish of fabric caught his attention. He turned when Amy Jo sidled up, wearing an ankle length dress the color of sunshine, which fit the fresh, clean, sunshiny scent flowing from her.

He managed a smile. “Amy Jo.”

“I thought that was you, hiding over here all by your lonesome.”

“Story of my life.”

Silence stretched as thorny as the rose bushes lining the walkway.

Cord shifted his stance. Lately, being around Amy Jo made him feel like a tongue-tied fool. He couldn’t tell her how pretty she looked without sounding like a total letch. He couldn’t mention how goddamn good she smelled without coming across like a deranged bloodhound, or worse—some kind of hopeful horndog.

When in doubt…“Nice night,” he offered lamely.

“That it is.” She shivered discreetly. “If a bit chilly.”

Should he act gentlemanly and offer her his suit coat? Nah. She’d probably think he was an old coot.

Which he was.

Dammit. Say something. Anything.

“You havin’ fun?”

“Absolutely. Weddings are always fun, aren’t they?”

Cord bit back a smart retort and swigged his beer.

“Why aren’t you out there cutting a rug like the rest of your McKay brothers and cousins?”

With his beer bottle, Cord gestured to Ky and the kids. “Someone’s gotta keep an eye on them so they don’t dunk each other in the stock tank.”

“Are you always the responsible one?”

“Yep. I reckon it goes with the territory of bein’ the oldest.”

“Isn’t just the providence of the oldest child to be forced into responsibility.” She sighed. “Don’t you ever want to…?”

He gave her a strange look. “What?”

A smile bloomed on her face before it faded. “Never mind. Ky did a great job as ring bearer today.”

“That he did, besides refusing to let go of Callie Morgan’s hand.”

“Can’t say as I blame him. A cute girl who can rope and ride as well as he can?” Amy Jo’s trill of laughter was as sweet and fleeting as the evening breeze. “Poor boy is smitten.”

“Seems to be an epidemic in the McKay family of late.” He glanced over to see his brother Colby and his wife Channing slow dancing, as well as the newlywed couple Carter and Macie entwined together, lost to everything but each other. A feeling close to jealousy tightened his stomach.

Not jealousy. Just indigestion.

Get a grip, McKay. This happily-ever-after wedding bullshit is addling your brain.

During his silent bout of self-pity, Amy Jo glided in front of him. Right in front of him. Lord. She was nearly as tall as he was in those ridiculously sexy yellow high heels.

“Why aren’t
you
smitten, Cord McKay?”

Cord had nothing to say to that. He studied her, half-wary, half-curious about her intentions.

“You could be smitten with me.” Keeping their gazes locked, she slowly angled forward and kissed him. Just a feather-light press of her soft mouth to his. As his lips were getting with the program, she withdrew slightly, letting their heated breath mingle for a second before she sank her teeth into his bottom lip. She gave a playful tug, followed by a thorough flick of her wet tongue to soothe the sting. “Because I’m definitely smitten with you.” She sauntered toward the tent in a cloud of chiffon and pure temptation.

Cord remembered licking his lip, realizing she tasted as warm and sweet as autumn sunshine. He’d been too stunned to chase after her, chalking up the teasing kiss and challenging words to booze and the party atmosphere.

He hadn’t thought about it again until now. As a matter of fact, he hadn’t seen Amy Jo since she’d moved to Denver last year with his sister to attend massage therapy school. His mother kept him updated on Keely’s exploits, which usually included tidbits on Amy Jo and her family.

His mother relayed the turn of bad luck in regard to Amy Jo’s mother, Florence. Evidently she’d fallen from her horse and broken her leg. Amy Jo’s older sister, Jenn, had called Amy Jo home temporarily to help out with Florence’s recovery.

Just how temporary was the situation?

The McKay’s association with the Fosters spanned several decades. After Floyd Foster died a few years back, Cord and his dad made a generous offer to buy the Foster ranch outright. But as Florence’s only grandchildren lived nearby, she wasn’t ready to sell the family homestead. And the McKays could afford to wait until she was.

Maybe the time had come.

A flash of metallic fringe brought his awareness back to Amy Jo exiting the dance floor. Cord sat up, straightening his hat, fully expecting she’d stroll to his table to flirt with him. Or at least beg him to dance with her. Or make good on the sultry promises she’d offered him with her smoky eyes. He’d be polite, but he’d gently discourage her attentions.

But Amy Jo flounced to the bar.