Rough Rider (Hot Cowboy Nights, #2)(31)

He shook his head. “You just don’t get it, sweetheart. I’m not about to live in your ol’ man’s pocket like that.”

Another silence followed.

“Dance with me?” she suddenly asked. The band had struck up a slow song, ironically, a cover of Rascal Flatts’ “I’m Movin’ On.”

Dirk nodded, stood, and pulled out her chair, guiding her out to the floor with a hand on the small of her back. They found an empty spot and she stepped in close, twining her arms around his neck and pressing up against him with all her soft, feminine curves.

“See?” She smiled up at him. “Just like old times.”

But it wasn’t. Although he couldn’t deny a stirring of sexual desire—he was still a man after all—the fierce lust he’d felt before was barely a flicker.

“You know, Dirk”—she stroked her fingers up and down his nape—“I’ve been thinking, maybe if we were really careful…and super discreet…” She shifted her position so she was almost riding his thigh, her message perfectly clear. She was trying to use his dick against him again.

“I don’t think so, Sunshine.” He anchored his hands on her hips and drew back a few inches, just enough to give his prick some breathing room.

Her gaze widened in surprise. “All right, have it your way for now, but just think about it, OK? I want to work this out between us. We’re too good together to just give it up.”

“It wasn’t my idea to break up, Rae, but I’m thinking now it was all for the best.”

Her blond brows pulled together. “You’re just being stubborn and prideful, but I can be stubborn too when I want something—and I still want you, Dirk.”

“We can’t always have everything we want, Sunshine.”

“Says who?” she quipped with a confident smile.

She was so damned sure of herself…of him…but he just didn’t feel the same anymore. When the dance ended, Dirk led her back to her friends, tipped his hat, and wished her good night, leaving her staring in consternation as he headed for the door.

*

Lost in his thoughts and needing space to think, Dirk left the Outlaw without a thought to Grady until he was halfway back to the motel. He swore aloud and almost turned around but then figured Grady’d probably hitch a ride with Seth. They were all bunking at the same place anyhow, the Motel Six, the cheapest place in Cheyenne.

Dirk let himself into his room, bone-tired but still too wound up to sleep. He was restless and burning with sexual frustration—frustration that he probably could have relieved with Rachel. Her offer had been on the table, but he didn’t want Rachel. Not anymore. His reaction to her, or lack thereof, still surprised the hell out of him. They’d been an item for over four years and he’d been proud to call her his, but now he wondered if it had ever been more than skin deep. Was he really that vain and shallow? He’d never thought of himself that way. The idea was mighty disconcerting.

He stepped into the shower, resolved to blow off some steam. Leaning against the tiled wall, he shut his eyes, but his mind didn’t conjure visions of a pretty blond taking him in her mouth. Instead, it was a leggy redhead with freckles on her nose, gazing up at him with a shy smile. Although Janice had been inexperienced, he’d felt an intense satisfaction, a connection with her that went much deeper than mere flesh.

He remembered the smell of her, the taste of her. The incredible sensations of moving inside her, the way her walls squeezed him and the soft sounds of pleasure she made when she came. He pumped himself more vigorously, biting his lip and jerking his hips as he achieved a swift but ultimately unfulfilling climax. He rinsed off, feeling physically spent but still dissatisfied.

He consoled himself that tonight had been exactly the test he’d needed—he was over Rachel Carson. But where the hell did that leave him and Janice? He felt like nothing more than the proverbial cowboy who straddled the fence only to end up with a sore crotch—or in his case—a blistered palm.

*

He was only feigning sleep when Grady came crashing into the room at two a.m. about as quiet as a bull in a china shop. He stumbled into the john, where he spent ten minutes retching before falling headlong into bed with his boots still on. Within seconds, he was snoring like a freight train.

It wasn’t long ago that Dirk would also have stayed out all night and come back in a similar condition. It was part of life on the road—the drinking and the whoring around. Though unlike Grady, Dirk had chosen to forgo the latter, one of the chief perks of bull riding. For four years, they’d wake in the morning hungover as hell and feeling fragile as glass, only to do it all over again. But he was done with it now. It was past time he got his shit together.

Rodeo had been a big part of his life, and Cheyenne was one of the biggest in the country, but Dirk felt like he was just going through the motions. His heart just wasn’t in it anymore. Janice was the only reason he was still on the road. She was going through a tough time and deserved a guy who’d be there for her, someone she could lean on, someone to help shoulder her load, not to take advantage of her situation as Grady intended to do. Part of Dirk wanted to be that guy for her, but the other part of him just couldn’t commit. Although he still didn’t quite understand his own motives where she was concerned, he sure as shit didn’t like Grady’s. Traveling together seemed a reasonable half measure, but he sensed Grady’s growing resentment and knew things were slowly coming to a head.