Rough Rider (Hot Cowboy Nights, #2)(14)

Grady signaled the bartender, ordering Janice’s drink and another shot.

Dirk called for another beer.

Janice frowned. “Are you sure you should be drinking tonight?”

“It’s only beer,” Dirk protested.

“You think that doesn’t count? You’ve done rodeo long enough to know it’s a bad idea to drink anything after getting knocked out.”

“I wasn’t knocked out.”

“Sure looked that way to the couple thousand people watching,” she argued.

“Told you I already have a mother, Janice,” Dirk snarled.

“Fine. Be an idiot.” She snatched up her beer.

“Don’t mind him, Janice. He’s having a bad night. Rachel just dumped him and his brother’s already moving in.”

“With her father’s blessing,” Dirk muttered. “Doesn’t like her slumming with rough stock riders. Thinks we’re a bunch of lowlifes.”

“That so?” Grady spun around on his stool. “What else did the dickwad have to say?”

“He thinks Rachel would be better off with Wade. That about sums it up.” He jerked his head toward the couple on the dance floor. “And if I wasn’t all busted up I’d be kicking Wade’s ass about now.” He was pissed as hell and would love to knock his brother’s lights out, but he was in no shape to take Wade on tonight. Tomorrow, however, was a new day. He’d be feeling more up to it then.

The dancers broke up a few minutes later when the band started up a piss-poor cover of “Cowboy Up” by Chris LeDoux. Dirk caught Rachel searching the room for him. This time he turned his back.

“Her ol’ man called us lowlifes, huh?” Grady downed his second shot with a thoughtful look—the one that usually meant trouble. “Guess we can’t kick his ass.”

“No.” Dirk gave Grady a warning look. “We can’t.”

After a Garth Brooks number, the band announced a twenty-minute break.

“This is Carson’s party, ain’t it?” Grady asked.

“Yeah. It’s all on his dime,” Dirk replied. “Money’s no object when it comes to Rachel. He wants her picture in all the magazines and big papers. Uppity sonofabitch thrives on the spotlight.”

“That so?” Grady rose from his bar stool. “If it’s attention he wants, why don’t we help him out?”

Janice laid a hand on his arm. “Where you going?”

Grady gave them a wicked grin that boded no good. “I just got an idea to shake things up a bit. I’ll be back directly, Sweet Cheeks.”

Dirk watched his buddy wend his way through the crowd to the stage where he tipped his hat to the DJ filling in during the band’s break. The burly Charlie Daniels look-alike offered his ear then gave a vehement head shake. Further persuasion ensued in the form of cash. The encounter ended with a hand clasp.

Grady swaggered back to the bar with an even bigger grin stretching his mouth.

“You know him?” Janice asked.

“Yeah. He’s an ol’ buddy of mine,” Grady replied. “I greased him up to do me a favor. At first he was afraid of losing the gig, but who can hold him responsible for a request, right?”

Janice’s gaze narrowed. “I s’pose it would depend on the kind of request.”

“What do you think a lowlife cowboy would ask him to play?”

“Dunno.” Janice shrugged. “Maybe ‘The Rodeo Song’ by Gary Lee and the Showdown?”

“Close but not raunchy enough. Ever heard of Rehab?”

Janice’s brow wrinkled. “No. I don’t think I have.”

“The DJ has an old copy of their original album, before they went and cleaned up the songs. He’s gonna play ‘Sittin’ at a Bar.’”

Dirk nearly choked on his beer. “Carson’ll shit a brick.”

“Least I didn’t ask him for Chinga Chavin’s ‘Cum Stains on My Pillow.’ He had that one too.” Grady laughed and downed another shot. “If you really wanna stick him in the craw, you and me could go out there and make it a karaoke version.”

“You know if we do this, we’re gonna get tossed out of here on our asses,” Dirk said, but he was too pissed off at the world to care much about repercussions.

Grady shrugged. “Won’t be the first time…and I doubt it’ll be the last. ’Sides, do you really want to stay here after what that * said?”

Dirk shook his head. “Hell no.”

“You remember the lyrics?” he asked.

“Yeah, I remember,” Dirk said. “All right, Grady, I’m in.” He rose too quickly, or maybe it was the effects of four beers. In either case, he had to steady himself on the bar.

“Care to make it a trio, Sweet Cheeks?” Grady asked Janice. “You can sing backup.”

“I don’t think so. I don’t even know the song.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Grady said. “You can just lip-synch.”

She looked from Grady to Dirk and back again. “Sorry. You two can make jackasses of yourselves all you like, but this is too much for me.”

“You’re bailing on us?”

“Damned straight.” She grabbed her purse and rose.