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“That uppity-up over yonder.” Eli motioned across the sawdust floor. “If you keep staring at her like that, she’s liable to burst into flames right here and now.”
“You’re losin’ it, old man. I’m doing no such thing. My mind’s all about tomorrow.”
“True enough, but to get to tomorrow, you’ve got to make it through tonight.”
“What are you trying to say?”
“Landsakes, do I have to spell it out for you?” He gave Billy a nudge. “Get your ass over there and dance with the woman. Otherwise, you’ll keep wonderin’ and that sure as shit’s gonna kill your concentration and lead to another sleepless night. Better to blow off some steam and get your mind off everything for a little while.”
“I thought it was better to avoid any and all distractions.”
“Yeah, but if that isn’t working out too well, you have to move on to plan B.”
“Which is?”
“Just get to it and get it out of your system.”
Billy glanced across the dance floor, his gaze colliding with the hot brunette’s. The air rushed from his lungs in that next instant, and for a split second he forgot to breathe.
A crazy reaction. But then that’s what happened when a twenty-six-year-old, red-blooded male in his prime went without sex for four months and six days and two hours and twenty-nine minutes.
Lust.
That’s all it was.
And nerves.
Tomorrow was big. The first official day of training for the semifinal round that would, hopefully, lead him straight to the finals. The press would be there. The rodeo officials. The fans. All watching and speculating. It made sense he’d be a little nervous. Not scared, mind you. More like anxious. Excited.
He sure as hell wasn’t getting all worked up because of the way her eyes sparkled and her lips curved into a smile.
A smile, for Christ’s sake.
“Maybe you’re right,” he heard himself say. “Maybe I should just get to it.”
“The sooner you start, the sooner it ends.” Eli nodded. “Then you can get focused again and forget all about those long legs and that tiny little waist and those really big—”
“Enough,” he cut in. “I get the point.”
“Then stop talking and start walking.”
“Yes, boss.” He left the old man grinning after him and headed across the dance floor.
2
SABRINA COLLINS NEEDED a cowboy in the worst way.
One hundred and fifty of them to be exact, which was the only reason she’d agreed to leave her L.A. apartment and head for a place like Lost Gun, Texas.
The small town played host to one of the biggest rodeos in the state, which had started a few days ago with several preliminary events. The official start, however, was tonight’s dance. While the town was little more than a map dot, for the next few weeks it would be the place to be for rodeo fans across the nation. Particularly the male variety.
On top of that, the town had gained recent notoriety thanks to a documentary featuring famous Texas outlaws. Lost Gun had started out over one hundred and fifty years ago as a haven for outlaws and criminals, and so it had been a natural pick for the documentary crew who’d not only played up the town’s history but also focused on a crime committed by one of Lost Gun’s very own who’d robbed a local bank and then bit the bullet in a house fire. The money had supposedly perished in the fire, but the television host had raised enough questions to make viewers think that the treasure might still be out there. The town had been a go-to spot for fortune seekers ever since.
Not that Sabrina was interested in a bunch of treasure hunters.
She wanted cowboys. Hot, handsome, real cowboys.
Just like the one headed straight for her.
He had short blond hair and chiseled features. The faintest shadow of a beard covered his strong jaw. A white cotton T-shirt—the words Cowboy Tuff blazing in red letters across the front—framed his massive shoulders and hugged his thick biceps. Worn, faded denim cupped his crotch and molded to trim hips and long, muscular legs. His scuffed brown boots had obviously seen better days, but then that was the way every cowboy worth his salt liked them.
She could still remember the boys back in her small-town high school, a map dot in East Texas that wasn’t so different from this one. The boys back home would rather duct-tape their favorite boots than give them up for a shiny new pair.
There was no duct tape in sight, but this guy still looked every bit as wild as any wrangler she’d left behind when she’d rolled out of Sugar Creek and headed for UCLA.
Sabrina’s fingers tightened around the plastic cup in her hand and a shiver of excitement worked its way up her spine.
Because he was a cowboy and another name to add to her currently growing database.
She certainly wasn’t feeling all tingly because of the way he looked at her. As if he wanted to take several slow bites and savor each one.
No biting.
No savoring.
No.
She pulled a business card from her purse that listed her email address and her cell phone number.
Numbers. It was all about the numbers.
That’s what Mitch, team leader for the investment firm, had told her when she’d approached them about fronting the start-up cash for a new online-dating service that specialized in Western singles. The service was the brainchild of Sabrina and her two college roommates, Livi Hudson and Katherine Ramsey. Since Sabrina knew how to write, she’d penned the business model, while Livi focused on the marketing and Kat handled the actual web design. The idea had grown out of yet another bad breakup for Livi, followed by a night of apple martinis and Bonanza reruns.
Forget the bank executives and the grungy tattoo artists and the egocentric personal trainers. Livi wanted a real man. A man’s man.
A cowboy.
And if she wanted one, then there had to be a ton of other women out there who did, too, right?
Sabrina hadn’t been as convinced, but money talks and polls on Facebook and Twitter had convinced her that Livi’s idea might be just the ticket to becoming her own boss.
The three had set up a website, done some soft-launch testing at various singles events and now it was time to put up or shut up. If they could prove to potential investors that they could stock their database with an adequate number of profiles, both men and women, then Southern Money International would front the initial capital needed to officially launch FindMeACowboy.com. They’d given the trio three months to build their singles database.
That had been two months and two weeks ago and while Sabrina and her besties had managed to sign up a decent number of females, they were falling a little short when it came to eligible males.
Men were crucial.
Tall, strong, Stetson-wearing men.
With time running out, Sabrina had had no choice. Kat had stayed back in L.A. to fine-tune the website and finish entering profiles while Sabrina and Livi had headed to Texas. It was Lost Gun or failure.
“Listen, I know this isn’t your favorite place, but how bad can it be?”
Sabrina cast a sideways glance at the petite redhead standing next to her at the bar.
Livi shrugged. “Okay, so we’re talking bad with a capital B. You hate small towns and we’re in a small town. Still—” she cast a glance around “—it’s kind of fun. I always wanted to learn to two-step.”
“And I want to be the next Woodward and Burns.”
Or at least, she had back when she’d been a freshman taking her first journalism class and the real world had been four years away. But entry-level journalist positions were hard to come by, and if she did manage to land one, she wouldn’t make enough to cover her rent, much less pay back the mountain of student loans.
Which is the reason that she’d taken a slight vacation from hard-core journalism to write fluff pieces for a few local tabloids and work on FindMeACowboy.com. The fluff coupled with the dating service would pay the bills and then some. Meanwhile, she would keep writing for the few blogs that actually liked her work and build her résumé. She was already brainstorming a new piece—an in-depth look at the bank robbery that had put Lost Gun on the map. Who knew? Maybe she could find a new twist regarding the missing money. She was here, after all. She might as well ask around.
In the meantime, she was going to sign up as many cowboys as possible and get the hell back to the city just as soon as she filled up her database.
“I feel like dancing.” Livi’s voice pulled her from her thoughts. “I’m going to head over to that table and ask one of those hunks to dance.” She indicated a handful of good-looking men in starched Western shirts. “And then I’m going to sign him up and find him the love of his life.”
Sabrina smiled as Livi made a beeline for the group. The expression died a heartbeat later when she heard the deep, seductive voice.
“What’s the fun in that?”
“Excuse me?” She cast a sideways glance at the hunky cowboy she’d spotted earlier.
Up close he was even more mouthwatering.
“Love.” His eyes glittered a hot, potent violet. His lips curved in a sexy smile. “Life isn’t about love. It’s about lust.”
“Is that so?”
He shrugged. “Lust makes the world go ’round.”
“So sayeth a commitment-fearing man.”
“I don’t fear commitment, sugar.” He shrugged. “I just don’t see the point in it.”
“And you are?”
“William Bonney Chisholm—” he touched a tanned finger to the brim of his Stetson and tipped it toward her “—but folks around here just call me Billy.”
“As in the Billy Chisholm?” Her mind scrambled, recalling bits and pieces from the posters plastered around town and the commentaries airing on the local radio stations. “The bull rider?”
A grin spread from ear to ear. “You’ve heard about me.”
“Actually, I’ve heard about your brother. He’s the current pro bull-riding champion, right?”
“For now. But he’s getting slow and preoccupied and I can guaran-damn-tee that another win isn’t in the cards for him.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because he sold out in the name of love and now his concentration’s for shit. The only plus is that he smartened up and ran for the hills before he embarrassed himself.” He arched an eyebrow. “What’s your name?”
“Sabrina Collins.”
“You a reporter?” he asked, which made sense since the place was crawling with them.
“I wish.” The words were out before she could stop them. She stiffened. “What I mean is, I do have a journalism degree, but I’m not here for that.” She handed him her business card. “I’m with FindMeACowboy.com. We’re an online-dating service for cowboys and cowgirls, and anyone wanting to meet either one. You’d be perfect for our website.”
“What about a dance? Would I work for that?”
Her gaze went to the crowded dance floor filled with sliding boots and swaying Wranglers. “I’ve never really danced to country music.”
He winked. “There’s a first time for everything.” He touched her and her heart stalled.
And then his strong fingers closed around hers and he led her out to the dance floor.
3
BILLY HAD RUBBED bellies with more than his fair share of women over the years. But none had ever felt as soft or as warm as Sabrina Collins.
The notion struck him the moment he pulled her close and felt her pressed up against his body. He trailed his fingertips down the side of her face, under the curve of her jaw, down the smooth column of her throat, until the silky fabric of her blouse stopped him.
“You don’t look like much of a rodeo fan,” he murmured.
She shrugged. “Rodeos I can do without. Cowboys are a different matter altogether. I need as many as possible.”
“I’ve heard a lot of pickup lines, but that’s a first.”
“Don’t flatter yourself.” She licked her bottom lip and he had the urge to lean down and catch the plump flesh between his teeth and nibble. “This is all about business. My business. FindMeACowboy.com.”
“Sounds highly illegal.”
A grin tugged at her full lips. “It’s a dating service.”
“Why cowboys?”
“Because they’re generally hard workers, trustworthy, loyal.”
“You don’t sound one hundred percent convinced.” There was a cautious air about her and she seemed to stiffen as he stared down at her.
“It doesn’t matter what I believe.” She shrugged. “It’s about the three thousand, four hundred and seventy-two women that we polled last year. So?” She arched an eyebrow at him. “Have you ever thought about meeting someone online?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because I meet plenty of women as it is, and I barely have time for any of them. I ride bulls for a living and this is my year. This rodeo is the first step to my very own championship in the fall. I don’t have time for dating.”
“Yet here you are dancing with me.” Despite the stiff way she held herself, there was just something about the way she looked at him with those deep blue eyes that said she was hungry for more than she wanted to admit. “One would be inclined to think you’re looking for someone.”
