TroubleinChaps

Trouble in Chaps

Ciana Stone

Book three in the Sequins, Saddles and Spurs series.

Roxie may have broken down in Middle-of-Nowhere, Texas, but she darn sure doesn’t plan on staying any longer than it takes to get the land yacht she arrived in up and running.

But you know what they say about the best-laid plans. Cliff was a complication she hadn’t counted on. The man looks like walking sex and he’s determined that before Roxie
hightails
it out of town, she’ll share his bed. So he offers her a job at his bar, Chaps, to keep her close—and adds a sexy bet on top of it.

If she wins, he finances her escape from
Nowheresville
. If
he
wins, she stays for six months, keeping bar by day and keeping him warm at night. It’s a wager she can’t resist—and one she can’t lose.

Chapter One

Roxie watched her friend Lola
leave
the café. This day had to go down in the record books as one of the worst. It wasn’t bad enough that the 1966 Cadillac they’d left Vegas in had broken down. It’d broken down in Texas.
Mesa Blanco, Texas, to be precise.

Roxie thought
Bumfuck
, Texas, would have been more apt. With a population that boasted of just over three thousand residents, according to the sign at the edge of town, the likelihood of finding a job that would not only enable her to pay for a place to stay but save enough to fix the car was remote.

“So, what’d you do in Vegas, Roxie?”

The deep, male voice from across the table had visions of something other than a job dancing in Roxie’s head.
Something along the lines of sweat-slicked skin, tangled sheets and low grunts of pleasure.

“This and that,” she responded, turning her attention to the man seated across from her, Cliff Beckett.

Tall and lean, Cliff had the kind of build that made her mouth water. She forced aside the erotic images that sprang to mind and lifted her near-empty soda glass to jiggle the ice cubes.

“Ever work in a bar?”

One eyebrow arched. “
You offering
me a job, Mr. Beckett?”

“Cliff.”

Roxie resisted the urge to shift in her seat. The way he was looking at her made it hard to keep her mind on business. “Well?” she asked.

“Depends.”

“On?”

“How are you at tending bar?”

“I’ve mixed a drink or two.”

“Most of my customers fall into the beer category.”

She smiled in spite of herself. “Then I’ve twisted a few caps.”

“Waited tables?”

“Once or twice.”

“Dealt with rowdy
fellas
who’ve maybe had one too many on a Friday night?”

That prompted a laugh. “Honey, I lived in Vegas.”

Cliff chuckled. “
Which brings me back to my original question.
What exactly did you do in Vegas?
Showgirl, dancer?”

Roxie laughed. “No, that’s Lola’s thing.”

“And yours was…?”

“Security.”

That wasn’t an answer Cliff expected. Roxie looked more like the beauties that can be found on a stage in Vegas. Busty, built and legs that made a man fantasize about what it would feel like to have them wrapped around him.

“Security?”

“Yep.”

“As in bouncer?”

“Yeah, I did that. Did most all of it but for the last few years I worked the high-stakes games.”

Cliff knew what she meant. When there was a lot on the table, most casinos had specialists watching. Not just from cameras but on the floor. Most people would never recognize the specialists. They dressed like everyone else and often sat in on the games.

And were the most lethal people in the world to play against because their “specialty” was spotting cheats. They knew all the tricks and most of them were banned from gambling.

“Well, I don’t have much of a call for that at Chaps. But I can offer you a job if you’re interested.”

“How much do you pay?”

“You don’t beat around the bush, do you, Roxie?”

“What’s the point?
How much?”

“Minimum wage plus tips.”

She surprised him again when she stood. “Thanks, anyway. I think I’ll see if there isn’t something else available that pays a bit better.”

“Ten an hour plus tips.”
The words were out of his mouth before he realized it. Why was that? Sure, Roxie was one hot babe that he’d purely love to get between the sheets, but attractive women were a dime a dozen. Why did he suddenly have an itch to have her around? And why the hell was he offering her nearly eight dollars more an hour than minimum wage?

She sat back down. “How much does it cost for a room at that place…what was it?”

“Mrs. Chester’s Boarding House.”

“Yeah, how much?”

“She’d probably cut you a deal.
Hundred a week without meals and laundry services.”

Roxie mentally calculated. At sixteen hundred a month base salary, minus four hundred for rent, she had twelve hundred left plus whatever tips she made. And if Chaps was like most other bars in America, her tips could easily match her base pay.

Then there was food. From the prices on the menu at the Blue Belle Café, it’d cost at least a hundred a week for food. That brought her to eight hundred, plus what she made in tips. She could put more into the car fund than what it would take to live. And the car repairs were liable to be expensive. Chances were the parts would be hard to find, which would drive the price up. She wasn’t all that experienced in auto repair, but she was guessing it would cost them somewhere in the neighborhood of three to four thousand to get the land yacht back on the road. If she wanted to get the heck out of Dodge—or Mesa Blanco—as quickly as possible, she was going to need to earn a lot more than ten dollars an hour.

“Twenty-five an hour,” she finally said, meeting his eyes.

Cliff snorted. “I can hire three gals for that price.”

“Not three with my experience.”

“Fifteen an hour.”

“Twenty.”

Cliff smiled at her, a lazy, knowing smile she’d seen more than once. It was the smile of a gambler who was holding a pat hand. Funny thing was that she’d never seen that smile look quite so sexy, or had it affect her with a sudden tightening of her nipples and warmth that spread down straight into her crotch.

“Three to closing, Wednesday through Saturday.”

Roxie couldn’t believe he’d agreed. They both knew that the offer was about nine hundred percent more than he was required to pay. But she wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

“What time’s closing?”

“Two a.m. Hour for dinner and fifteen minute break every two hours.
You get one meal per shift and all the water and soft drinks you can hold but no alcohol unless you pay—half price for employees.”

She considered it for a brief moment. With that pay and if the repairs on the car weren’t too much, she’d be bidding farewell to Mesa Blanco inside a month.

“Done.
When do I start?”

“Tonight’s as good as any.”

“Okay. Thanks, Mr. Beckett.”

“Cliff.”

“Not as long as I work for you.”

The message was all too clear.
Hands off.
Cliff felt a grin rising on his face. He loved a challenge and Roxie Ellis just might prove to be a very stimulating one. “Have it your way. I’ll expect you by five. That should give you time to get settled and changed.”

“Into what?”

“You got any cut-off jeans?”

“I have a pair I can cut.”

“That’ll do. I’ll have a Chaps t-shirt sent over to the boarding house for you.”

She stood and offered her hand. “Thanks. I’ll see you at five.”

Cliff rose and took her hand. “Don’t disappoint me, Roxie.”

She met his eyes with a sassy expression that had heat starting to simmer in his belly. “Not in my vocabulary, Mr. Beckett.”

With that, she pulled her hand from his, turned and left without a backward glance. Cliff reclaimed his seat, staring thoughtfully at the door. He’d have to call his guy and get the scoop on Roxie Ellis. There was more to her story than just a woman who’d thrown in the towel on a whim and high-tailed it out of Vegas. And he was going to find out what it was.