Rode Hard, Put Up Wet (Rough Riders #2)(64)

She blinked and Carter was above her.


“I didn’t bring you out here to have my wicked way with you, believe it or not.”


He ran his fingers down the line of her jaw and she shivered.


“But I want you. I want to make love to you like this. With starlight on your face.


With warm sage-scented night air around us and a soft blanket below us. No one around for miles. Just you and me, Macie. As alone as we’ve ever been.”


They undressed each other slowly and rolled over the blanket, skin to skin.


Exchanging soft kisses, gentle caresses. A whispered word, a low moan. No hurry. The sexual heat between them simmered, rather than boiled.


In the breathtaking moment beneath the shimmering stars when Carter slipped inside her body, Macie also felt him slip into her heart.


Chapter Twenty-five


Colby and Channing McKay arrived with four pickup loads of bull riding equipment and half the population of Crook County, Wyoming.


Or so it seemed to Gemma.


Happy as she was to see wild child Keely McKay, her quiet friend/nemesis Amy Jo Foster, four teenage boys, and a dog named Shithead, Gemma wondered if she and Channing would get a chance to talk privately. Lord knew she needed it.


She wanted to know if she was acting like an old fool because she’d fallen head over heels in love with Cash Big Crow.


Macie had overtaken the kitchen and shooed her out. Cash loitered in the paddock setting up the mechanical bull, while Colby and two teenage boys tied one of the practice barrels between two trees. The other boys were hauling more stuff out of the vehicles and carrying it into the barn. Keely and Amy Jo were arguing while they dragged piles of brush for the evening bonfire.


Where there were cowboys, there were campfires.


Didn’t take long for the heated argument between the girls to reach her ears.


“He won’t let you, Keely, and it’ll just piss him off if you ask him, so drop it.”


Gemma’s brows lifted. Sweet Amy Jo cursed now? Didn’t take long for Keely McKay to corrupt her.


“Why are you acting like my mother?”


“Because I’m trying to keep you from getting killed.”


“Puh-lease. Do you know how many times I’ve watched—”


“Watching isn’t the same thing as participating.”


Keely let loose a sultry laugh. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you for months, but do you listen to me? No.”


“We are not talking about… that kind of stuff. We’re talking about you wanting to climb on that stupid mechanical bull. Colby won’t let you.”


“Maybe I can sweet talk Cash.”


Amy Jo released a disgusted sigh.


“Or Carter would let me do it.”


“Wrong. Carter won’t let you get away with half the shit that Colby does. So give it up.”


“If they don’t let me try it, I’ll sneak out on my own and do it.”


“Oh, no you won’t. I’ll tell.”


“You are supposed to be my friend and back me up on this.”


“I am your friend. And if you wind up dead, who will I room with in Denver? We already paid the deposit. We’re finally gonna whoop it up, away from—”


“How’s it goin’, girls?” Gemma asked.


Amy Jo gasped and whirled around guiltily.


Keely jumped. “What are you doin’ sneakin’ up on us, Gemma?”


“Seein’ if you were up to no good.”


“She’s always up to no good,” Amy Jo grumbled.


“Don’t I know it.” Gemma smiled. “I couldn’t help but overhear you talkin’. You two movin’ someplace?”


“Yep. We’re getting the hell out of Dodge and starting massage therapy school in Denver in September.”


“It’s a temporary move,” Amy Jo amended. “The school has an accelerated program, so we’ll be living there for a year.”


“Both of you? Together? In an apartment? With no supervision? Sounds like a disaster.”


“Sounds like an episode of Sex in the City: Wild Wyoming Women.”


“Keely!”


“You should’ve seen the look on Dad’s face when I told him I wanted to open a massage parlor.”


“Good Lord, Keely.”


Keely smiled cheekily. “Well, I’m glad you’re here. We were just talkin’ about a…man versus woman situation. Men always havin’ the upper hand, tellin’ us what we can and can’t do. You think you could ask Cash if—”


“No. And if I see you anywhere around that mechanical bull, Miz McKay, I’ll tell your dad what I saw you doin’ in Cheyenne last year. That oughta get you grounded, oh, for life.”



“Grounded? Need I remind you I’m twenty, not ten?”


Gemma lifted her eyebrows. “Need I remind you the legal drinkin’ age is twenty-one, and you doin’ a half-nekkid—”