Cowgirl Up and Ride (Rough Riders #3)(6)

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 to attend massage therapy school with his sister.


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, 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 four 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.


Chapter Three


What the hell?


Cord’s eyes narrowed as the bartender rang a cowbell and lined up a full shot glass.


Amy Jo slapped a five on the bartop. A group of young cowboys egged her on. She clasped her hands behind her back, bent forward, slid her lips down the shot glass and tipped her head, gulping the cloudy white liquid without using her hands.


Her throng of admirers whooped and hollered. Crumpled bills piled up on the bar napkin next to a bottle of Budweiser.


Amy Jo returned the glass to the bar the same way she’d taken it. She made a show of smoothing the bills and secreting them in her bra. Her sleek platinum hair tumbled over her left shoulder as she turned to smile at a guy creeping up behind her.


A small drop of milky liquid clung to the corner of her mouth. Sweet Jesus, it looked like a drop of…


Her smoking hot gaze hooked Cord’s. She brought her finger to that spot, wiped the droplet and sucked her fingertip between her full pink lips.



His cock went hard as a fencepost.


Then Amy Jo whirled around and ignored him.


The little cock tease. When he got his hands on her…


“Cord? Man, you okay?”


Startled, Cord looked at Kade and was glad his cousin couldn’t see the hard-on he was sporting under the table. “I’m fine. Why?”


“Looked pretty pissed off there for a sec.”


“Just thinkin’.”


“You thinkin’ about another beer?”


“If you’re buyin’.”


By the time the round arrived, so had his brother Colt, with a tiny, curvy brunette on his arm with tits the size of watermelons, who appeared to be about fifteen.


Like you have any place to judge, pervert, lusting after your kid’s babysitter.


“Sorry I’m late. Was a little distracted.” He gave the woman a drunken leer, snagged an extra chair and they sat—with her straddled across his lap. “This is Jasmine. Jasmine this is my older brother Cord, and my cousin, Kade McKay.”