Long Hard Ride (Rough Riders #1)(2)

An acute sense of unease built. “What is wrong with you tonight? You eat a bad kiwi or something?”


“No.”


“Then knock it off.”


He laughed harshly. Meanly. “Little Miss Prim and Proper, are we now, love?”


Jared squeezed her nipple hard enough that it brought tears to her eyes. She slapped his hand.


“That wasn’t how you were last night.”


“How much have you been drinking?”


“Not nearly enough.” He puffed up with belligerence. “I oughta be asking you that question.”


“Why?”


“You know why. A little liquid courage is what you need.”


“Need for what, Jared?”


Jared clamped his hands on her hips, spun her until they were back to front and he dry humped her. “A few beers would loosen you up. When you gonna give up this tight ass? It’s been a week and I’m bloody well tired of waiting.”


Ignoring the burning in her cheeks, Channing twisted from his hold.


She latched on to his polyester shirt with both hands, hauling herself up until they were nose to nose. “Lower your voice.”


“That bothers you? People hearing you love to do the nasty stuff? Or knowing you’re a hypocrite for begging me to use my fingers on your tight little hole, and then pretending it disgusts you?”


Infuriated, she released his lapels. “It doesn’t disgust me. The way you’re acting disgusts me.” She wasn’t ashamed of a thing they’d done behind closed doors. But him talking about it as if it were some big joke made her feel used and cheap.


“S’matter? Truth sting a bit, love?”


She stared at him. Who was this cruel man? Something had set him off tonight. Before she could formulate a snappy response, Cash Big Crow sauntered up and tapped Jared on the shoulder.


Cash was another heart-stoppingly handsome cowboy on the rodeo circuit. Native American, short and stocky, with long dark hair he wore in a braid, he had a grin as wide as the brim of his black Stetson. Cash was a little older than the youngsters on the circuit, and bit bowlegged from years spent riding bulls, broncs and “anything that bucked”.


“Hoka-hey. Hope I’m not interruptin’ a lovers’ spat.”


“You are,” Jared snarled. “What the bloody hell do you want?”


“Whoa, hold on, partner. Just wanted to return this to the lady.” He handed Channing her trophy. “You forgot it on the bar. Wouldn’t want some other gal to steal it, seeings you worked so hard to win it.” He winked.


“Thanks, Cash.”


“Oh, and this.” Cash held out a silver cell phone to Jared. “You left it in the can.”


Jared snatched it. “Appreciate it. Now move along, mate.”


Channing had endured enough of Jared and was tempted to ask Cash to take her back to the motel. Let Jared sort out his fit of temper on his own. She wasn’t his goddamn babysitter.


“What? You waiting for a tip?” Jared demanded.


“I’m going.” Cash took a couple of steps, then turned back. He gave Channing a pitying look before addressing Jared. “Your wife called your phone while I was in the bathroom, that’s why I picked it up. She wants you to call her back right away.”


Dead silence, ugly as the antelope-horn chandeliers hanging above them.


“Wife?” Channing repeated.


When Jared’s gaze zoomed to hers then flitted away, she knew the truth.


The bastard was married. He’d lied to her. Guilt, shame and fury arose inside her.


Jared spun on Cash to chew him out.


Without thinking, Channing blindly swung the trophy and clocked Jared in the back of the head.


He crumpled to the floor.


She froze. Shit. What had she done? What if she’d killed him?


Spending her life in a Southern prison wearing orange paper shoes wasn’t part of her big adventure.


Clutching the trophy like a shield, she dropped to her knees and accidentally squashed Jared’s hat. She gingerly touched his head. A big bump protruded from the back of his neck. No blood though. Good thing she had lousy aim. His chest rose and fell so she knew he wasn’t dead.


A sick sort of relief swamped her.


“Hey, slugger, you okay?”


She looked up at Cash. “No. Cash. Please. I didn’t know—”


“I figured you didn’t, sweets. You don’t seem the type to mess around with a married fella.”


“I’m not.” New experiences did not include becoming a home wrecker.


Her stomach churned. “Please get me out of here. I can’t stay with him.”


“Well, he can’t stay here to get trampled. Grab his boots. Let’s move him outta the way first before we figure out what to do with you.”


After they’d hauled Jared through the sawdust to a dark corner, he came around. He plopped his lopsided hat on and kept his face aimed at the floor.


She doubted the jerk felt any shame. Only anger that he’d gotten caught.