Page 5 of Risking it for the Cowboy

Chapter Two

Get her into trouble? Charlie Bradford slowed her racing pulse. Shivered in McClintock’s grip. He wanted to do more than make out?

Of course he did. This was why he’d lured her onto stage. She’d just thought she could walk away afterward. Never expected to like his smell, feel special in his touch. This was madness, and already she worried that it felt too good, to be so starved for lovin’ when it was the last ploy on earth she needed to fall for, repeating mistakes best left learned.

Two dimensional ditz … barely two blond brain cells rubbing together…

Jason’s dismissive words coiled through her mind as if to rub it in further, that all she’d ever been was a joke.

Think I want you stealing my spotlight? So you played at the pageant filled with a bunch of beauty queens twirling their hair. Big deal, Charlie…

She knew this guy McClintock’s type all too well, the type that left broken shards of girls’ hearts littered beneath his boots—

“Wanna get some tacos?”

She pulled back at his unexpected question. Or … ugh, was he a creep and that was some sort of euphemism?

“Dinner? This late?”

“Yeah, dinner, I’m starvin’.” He chuckled as if it was normal to have the appetite of a teenager in the middle of the night. “There’s this hole in the wall across town I hit up after shows.”

Okay, so he was willing to wine and dine her like a gentleman in order to get laid? That was new. She could feel his arousal pressing into her. Dinner was a ploy, and as long as she kept that truth in mind, she wouldn’t get tangled up in unnecessary emotions. This was a night of freedom. This wasn’t her making the same mistakes of the past. It was a distraction from the reality awaiting her tomorrow evening, when she’d have to clean up the shards of someone else’s broken heart. She should say good night—

“You with me, baby?” he drawled, eyes searching hers and brimming with curiosity. “Because I think I gotta proposition for you.” Her breath hitched but he held up a palm, even if his eyes raked hotly over her body. “As much as I want that—ain’t gonna lie, beautiful—it ain’t that kinda proposition.”

What? This guy, McClintock, didn’t think her music was a joke? He had fallen to his knees as if she’d blown him away. Jason had always been jealous. McClintock didn’t seem the least bit jealous.

And when McClintock kissed her, it felt reverent, even if he was so obviously a player—No, he was giving her lines, feeding her ego to get between her legs—

“Scout’s honor,” he breathed, lifting his fingers like an oath taker.

Oh, this man was the furthest thing from a Boy Scout, she scoffed, and yet, against her better judgment, she … nodded.

“Atta girl,” he exhaled on a relieved smile.

She swore he cursed under his breath as a rumble growled from his lips, that once more pressed to hers as his muscular thighs encased in work-worn denim straddled hers. He fought open the service exit amid the droning cheers. Together they stumbled outside, the metal door shutting and silencing the noise.

Quiet nighttime replaced the speakers and amps.

Rustling cornstalks serenaded them on the breeze, comforting her throbbing eardrums. Playing that banjo tonight, in front of that crowd … it had been scary at first, like blowing dust off a fond photo album to relive the memories of hopefulness and happiness it had once contained. Before life had abruptly detoured beneath the vengeful fist of fate that left bruises on a heart and scars on a soul.

“Where did you learn to play like that?” he murmured, as together they maneuvered through the weeds and grass, across gravel.

“My uncle,” she replied breathlessly as they came to rest against metal.

Mint-green fender? A gorgeous classic truck. And was his grip on her more reverent? Softer? Like he wasn’t just manhandling her, but contemplating how she felt?

“I once thought I’d end up in Nashville.”

He swallowed. Checked her out. An all-too-familiar reaction from the gents. Over the years, she’d learned to hide inside her frumpy overalls and cardigan, except tonight, she’d let her best friend Heart talk her into dressing up, having fun. Stupid, stupid.

And yet, there was something unreadable in his gaze that transcended lust.

“No lie, Flower Girl. That might’ve been the most religious experience I’ve had in a long time.”

“I’m no saint,” she replied, picking at his shirt, biting her lip.

“Who is, baby?” he murmured, plucking her lip free, his voice reverberating through his chest. “Where you been hidin’?” He touched her hair as if trying to decipher each strand. “Why d’you look familiar? You got plans to, uh, ever try for Nashville again?”