Tease Me, Cowboy (Montana Born Rodeo Book 1) Page 2

  Without Selah giving him a reason to get up in the morning and Em McCullough fussing over him, who knows what would have become of him that year?

  Unashamed, his pulse finally slowing, he took a drag of his beer and stared over to where she sat with Sage, Chelsea and Jenny. The men around him went back to their conversations, but no way could he concentrate on their mindless chatter. Sage caught his gaze, leaned forward and said something to the others. Chelsea’s and Jenny’s heads snapped around to look at him, and he offered them a casual wave, all the while willing Selah to turn a little. Her three friends giggled and waved back at him, but Selah appeared frozen.

  Even from the side, her dark-chocolate hair falling like a veil across her face, she was still the best-looking woman he’d ever laid eyes on. And that was saying something. Since leaving Marietta and being on the road with the rodeo, he’d seen a lot of women. Not one had ever made the organs in his chest reverberate and his cock harden simply by thinking of them. Not the way Selah did.

  This time, when he lifted the bottle to his mouth, he downed half its contents. He returned to Marietta every couple of years to visit Em or Cole, and he’d done the Copper Mountain Rodeo a few times as well. He’d run into Sage, Chelsea and Jenny at least once during these visits, but he’d never crossed paths with Selah. As far as he knew, this was the first time she’d ever bothered to leave her comfortable city existence for the rodeo.

  He guessed dirt, horses and sweaty men just weren’t her thing.

  But people in small towns talked. And he may have cocked an ear to listen on the occasions he’d heard the name “Selah Davis” in conversation. According to local gossip, she was some hotshot journalist in Seattle, and didn’t she just look the part? Her friends all wore dark, denim jeans, casual sweaters and cowboy boots, but Selah looked as if she’d stepped right off a Paris catwalk. Her smart jacket and tailored trousers were far too fancy for his liking, so why were his palms sweating and his heart racing at the thought of going over and saying hi? At the thought of sliding his hands into her salon-perfect hair and ruffling it up a little.

  Unfinished business maybe? He downed the dregs of his beer and raised a finger to the barman. “Can I grab another?”

  Within a few seconds, Reese had dropped a bottle down in front of him, and Levi had handed over some cash. He glanced back at Selah’s table. The women looked to be in deep conversation now, and he wondered about the topic of conversation. Could they be talking about him? He swallowed, his mind once again rewinding to the best and worst year of his life.

  He and Selah had gone to the prom together. She’d worn this hotter-than-sin pink dress—Lord knew how she’d managed to get her dad’s approval for that little number—and he’d bought her a corsage to match. Em had taken him to Married in Marietta and rented him a tux, insisting that Selah deserved a little effort on his part. He’d felt like some kind of fraud tugging that swanky jacket over his shoulders, but the moment he’d laid eyes on Selah, he’d decided he’d wear black tie every day for the rest of his life if it meant having her.

  They’d been crowned prom king and prom queen, and twirling her in his arms around the dance floor had felt so good. He’d been filled with pride, lust and love, or at least, he’d thought that’s what it was. Looking back now, he guessed it was more likely a case of rampant hormones.

  But hormones, love, whatever it had been, he’d felt certain he’d get lucky at the after party. He’d bought the condoms and rented a cute little log cabin from a rancher who kept to himself and didn’t ask questions. Although he’d never had an example of romance in his life, he’d done his damn best. There had been candles, flowers and chocolates, even some cheap champagne. Yet, still she’d resisted.

  Back then, he’d thought Selah Davis was a cockteaser. She’d professed to love him, kissed him like a harlot, let him feel her up and suck her nipples (through her bra, mind you). She’d even given him a hand job, but she’d never let him go below her belt. Her excuse? She was saving herself for marriage.

  Since marriage hadn’t been on his agenda in the near future, and he had been a horny-as-hell seventeen-year-old boy, they’d broken up. He’d left school and headed back home to his sick mom.

  Levi’s grip tightened around his bottle, the frustration he’d felt so strongly back then rearing its ugly head. He’d regretted dumping her almost the moment he’d done so, but really, could she have expected him to wait indefinitely? He’d had nothing to offer a wife, and no way would he have let her end up like his mom, living in a broken trailer and having to clean and cook for other people because his no-hoper of a dad couldn’t provide.

  He sighed. The depressing thoughts had put him in a melancholic mood, and he found he didn’t care for the company of cowboys right now. What he really wanted was to go over and talk to Selah, but she seemed intent on not looking his way. Taking one final mouthful of beer, he set his still nearly full bottle on the bar and slipped quietly away from the mates he’d arrived with.

  A quiet night in his trailer wasn’t a bad idea anyway, far more sensible a plan than staying in Grey’s and getting sloshed before the weekend had even started. This was going to be his last rodeo, and he wanted to go out on a high. The last thing he needed was a distraction, especially not in the form of Selah Davis. Still, something niggled at him, and he found he couldn’t leave the saloon without at least walking past her.

  He took a detour to the exit, winding through tables and trying not to catch the eye of anyone he might know, until he came up alongside Selah’s table. As his shadow fell over their drinks, all eyes glanced up. Even Selah couldn’t pretend he didn’t exist when he was standing right beside her. And as her eyes met with his, something shifted inside him. It’d been a long while since he’d felt a jolt of awareness upon seeing someone, but seeing Selah up close again felt as if he’d just crashed into an electric fence.

  He did his damn best to hide his reaction and went for nonchalance as he smiled down at the group. “Hey, ladies. Selah.”

  Sage, Chelsea and Jenny all tossed him friendly smiles and chirpy “hi’s,” but Selah simply stared at him as if he were a ghost risen from the dead. Finally, when things started getting awkward, he dipped his head and continued on toward the door, feeling all kinds of stupid for thinking that, after all these years, she might actually have anything to say to him.

  *

  Selah. The way Levi had singled her out, the way he’d drawled her name in his still-delicious voice, had her insides twisting, right along with her tongue. Something in her brain registered that it was the done thing to reply, but her dry mouth just couldn’t. She seemed incapable of doing anything but stare. So…it was still there…that incomparable crackle between them. That knock-your-socks-off, toe-curling lust. An attraction stronger than she’d ever felt for anyone else.

  She suspected that her friends had returned his greeting with suitable ones of their own, but before she could pull her bamboozled self together, he’d dipped his head as if he wore his cowboy hat and was walking out the door.

  Too late, her breath returned to her lungs, and she slumped against the back of the booth as the door to Grey’s swung closed behind Levi. Sage, Chelsea and Jenny erupted into hysterics for the second time that evening.

  “It’s not funny,” Selah hissed, suddenly struggling to remember why she’d been so excited about seeing them.

  They made half-hearted attempts to smother their giggles, and then Chelsea said, “Oh, Selah, we’re sorry, but it is.”

  “How apt that the moment you were about to admit your sordid regrets regarding him, he should walk in the door,” Jenny added, helping Chelsea’s her argument.

  “A sign, I’d say.” Sage nodded, pretending to be all serious.

  Selah glared harder, trying hopelessly to forget how incredible Levi still looked and focus all her energies on being irritated with her friends instead. She made a tsking noise. “I don’t believe in signs, and if I’d known how childish your reactions would be
, I’d never have said a word.”

  Immediately, all three of her friends looked remorseful.

  “We’re sorry,” said Chelsea, reaching out to take Selah’s shaky hand.

  “It just shocked us, is all.” Jenny frowned. “We’re your closest friends, and I don’t know about Sage and Chels, but I thought you did sleep with Levi. The two of you were practically Siamese twins during senior year.”

  Sage nodded. “I would have sworn you admitted to much horizontal mambo with the Leve-star. We were all bursting with envy, if I recall. None of us had much luck with boys in high school, so we lived vicariously through you.”

  Selah looked down at the table, picked up the soggy cardboard drink coaster and started picking at the edges. Truth was, she’d never actually told anyone she’d slept with Levi, but she’d let her friends, and his, draw this natural conclusion. And, damn it, she’d wanted to make love with Levi more than she’d wanted to graduate high school with good grades so she could pursue a career in journalism, but she’d been scared.

  “Oh, yeah.” Chelsea sighed. “I don’t think there was a girl in our class who didn’t fantasize about Levi Monroe.”

  A sad truth that only amplified Selah’s regret. She’d had that opportunity and she’d let it pass her by.

  How many times had she almost given in to the lust that had raged between them? It hadn’t been easy saying no to that face, not with his hands roving over her body as he told her how much he loved her, begging her to go the whole way, but every time she’d almost relented, she’d had a visit from her parents. Metaphorically, of course. Back then, she wouldn’t have even held Levi’s hand if her mom or dad had been within a mile. They’d heard rumors of course, but she’d always placated them with the sweet words of a good daughter. The good daughter. As far as her parents had known, she and Levi had just been friends, Selah doing her best to help him settle into Marietta and not miss his mom too much. As the minister of St. James Methodist Church, Jonathan Davis could hardly have asked his daughter to give up that charitable duty, but Selah had known she and Levi had to be careful.

  The consequences of what could have happened if they weren’t had been paraded in front of her face by her sister. The fallen daughter.

  “It was all Magdalena’s fault,” she admitted, sounding far more vicious than she’d intended.

  Her friends caught on immediately, aahing and nodding their understanding.

  “How is Magdalena these days?” Jenny asked, and Selah grabbed on to the slight change in conversation.

  She smiled. “She’s good. She’s started her own social media business and is doing really well for herself.”

  “That’s great,” Sage said, and the other two nodded their agreement. “Is she dating anyone?”

  Since their own hookups at last year’s rodeo, her best friends were almost fixated on the dating habits of those around them. It was like once they were happily paired, they saw it as some kind of duty to help Cupid with his aim. Oh, well, talking about her sister’s love life was better than the alternative.

  “Nothing serious. Her focus has always been Bella, but with Bella in high school now, I think Mags is considering getting more proactive in that department. Last time we talked, she mentioned signing up for Match.com.”

  That may have been a slight exaggeration, but Selah thought if she distracted her friends, they might forget about what had started this conversation.

  No. Such. Luck.

  “Cool, but back to Levi.” Chelsea’s eyes glistened in the way of someone who had recently been laid good and proper, someone who felt happy and smug with her place in the world. “If he is truly your one regret…you need to do something about it!”

  Chapter Two

  ‡

  In theory, a girl should get a fabulous night’s sleep in the newly renovated, historic Graff Hotel. Its luxury was one of the many reasons Selah had decided to stay there rather than in her cramped old bedroom at her parents’ place. She’d given them the excuse that as the magazine was paying, she might as well live it up, but now she regretted her decision. If she had been sleeping under her parents’ roof, she could pretty much guarantee she wouldn’t be having the torrid fantasies that plagued her now. Whichever way she turned, her head—too full of thoughts of Levi—refused to switch off and sleep.

  She groaned and rolled over for the zillionth time since crawling into bed, hugging a fat pillow against her as she once again relived the conversation she’d had with her friends after her confession. Could she really do what Chelsea had suggested? Should she even contemplate it? Sage and Jenny had been equally as enthusiastic about Chelsea’s idea, and now Selah was lying here in the dark, in a plush bed far too big for one person, and she couldn’t stop her mind heading down that path.

  Actually, sprinting would be the more accurate term.

  “Levi Monroe!” As she said that scrumptious name out loud, heat kicked through her, making her body feel boneless.

  She hadn’t been entirely honest with her friends. Oh, the bit about him being her only regret was one hundred percent correct, but she hadn’t told them the whole, depressing story. That although she’d slept with a few men, the only time she’d ever managed to achieve an actual orgasm was when she closed her eyes and thought of Levi.

  She did so now, a smile spreading across her face and her lady bits standing to attention at the recollection of Levi pausing briefly at the entrance of Grey’s as he surveyed the crowd. It was like her thoughts had conjured him up, and the reality of him trumped her memories and fantasies tenfold. He’d always been hot, but his years on the rodeo circuit and working the land had created the type of male spectacular that defied odds. Anyone who cared to look at him in his Wranglers and a Western shirt—and she bet lots of women did—could see that Muscles should be his middle name. His face had lost its boyish charm, and in its place was a strong jawline, serious eyes and a delicious spattering of stubble that made him look intense and a little dangerous.

  Selah liked it, and she was pretty sure there was a law against looking that fine, especially if you were a redhead, as Levi was. She bit her lip, groaned again and glanced at the time on the digital alarm clock beside her bed.

  Was two a.m. too late, or early, to go knocking on his trailer door?

  Once she’d promised to give Chelsea’s idea serious thought, Selah’s friends had gone out of their way to help her find out everything she needed to know about her high school sweetheart. They’d made phone calls, checked Facebook and asked a couple of cowboys drinking at the bar a few pertinent questions. If they hadn’t been so competent at their respective careers, they could possibly have made good journalists. Or private investigators.

  By the time the closing bell had been rung at Grey’s and the four of them had stumbled out onto the pavement, Selah knew this much: Levi hadn’t properly dated anyone in years—thus, he was available; he worked for a rancher in Tulsa when he wasn’t competing; apparently, he also knew his way around the stock market but had chosen to stay in his trailer on the rodeo grounds rather than with Em McCullough or any of his other friends in town.

  If Selah had been truly dedicated to her work, these facts would have stimulated more questions, but the only thing she could think about where Levi was concerned was getting him naked and rewriting the past. The more she thought about this crazy, ridiculous notion, the more it grew on her. Her pelvic floor clenched, and her whole body trembled with anticipation.

  But did she really have such courage? And how the hell would she go about it? Maybe she should lay it on him straight? Walk right up to him and say, “Hey, Levi, you know how we used to have a thing together? You know how you begged and pleaded, but I would never let you go past second base? Well, do you want to go all the way now?”

  Or she could get him drunk and seduce him. There were always plenty of opportunities at a rodeo for such debauchery, or so she’d heard. Then again, Levi being inebriated might affect his performance—both in the rodeo and in
the sack—and she didn’t want either of those calamities.

  Sometime between two and three, Selah fell into a restless sleep. Unsurprisingly, her dreams didn’t bring a reprieve from thoughts of Levi. And by the time her alarm woke her a few hours later, she was hot, sweaty and possibly more turned on than she’d ever been in her life.

  What she needed was a cold shower and a big bag of Sage’s chocolates. Although, didn’t chocolate contain the same chemical that was released in the brain when you fell in love? She didn’t need that. Too busy with work, she wasn’t in the market for love, but she had to admit she was in the market for Levi. The article she needed to write would be the perfect ruse to approach him, and that opportunity was too good to refuse.

  What happened after that? Well, she’d just have to see how receptive he was to her proposition.

  *

  The last person Levi expected to see while tending his horse, Ry, on Friday morning was the delectable Selah Davis. She’d been with him in his head all damn night as he’d tossed and turned in his bunk. He’d hoped to get another glimpse before the weekend was over, but he hadn’t expected her to seek him out. Especially not here at the rodeo grounds on the outskirts of Marietta, where only those readying themselves for the weekend hung out.

  The way she walked toward him now, her feminine hips swishing from side to side and her head held high, made her look purposeful, as well as her usual sexy. It made him curious.

  He checked to make sure Ry’s halter was hooked to the rope, crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall of the gooseneck trailer as she came to a stop a couple of yards in front of him.

  “Hey.” He gave her an unashamed once-over, happy to find her looking less citified than the night before. She should wear jeans more often, because they did so much more for her curves than the tailored stuff. Her fitted gray T-shirt left little to the imagination when it came to her breasts. And she smelled as if she’d just bathed in sugar.