Marin Thomas - A Cowboy's Duty

“Good try,” he said.

Try being the operative word. “Thanks.” Brilliant, Dixie. A cowboy with killer looks and nice manners goes out of his way to talk to you and you mumble “thanks”?

“How long have you been riding bulls?” Gavin asked.

“Started this summer.”

A dark eyebrow lifted. “Gutsy gal.”

More like crazy. For the life of her, Dixie couldn’t find her tongue. Turned out she didn’t have to. Veronica Patriot materialized out of nowhere and sashayed her way between Dixie and Gavin. She placed her French-manicured talons on Gavin’s chest and thrust her heaving bosom in his face. “Time to celebrate, cowboy.”

Dixie despised Veronica. The woman had done a number on her brother Porter—used him to make another cowboy jealous then left him high and dry with a broken heart.

“Sorry, I’ve got plans.” Gavin’s soulful brown eyes beseeched Dixie.

“What plans?” Veronica propped her hands on her hips.

Dixie had read her share of silent help me messages from her brothers. The look Gavin sent her begged her to rescue him from the clutches of the evil buckle bunny. What the heck.

“Gavin and I have a date,” Dixie said.

“Pardon?” Veronica frowned.

“That’s right.” Gavin inched closer to Dixie and the scent of dust and faded cologne went straight to her head. When he rested his arm across her shoulders a little shiver raced down her spine. Gavin couldn’t have been more than six feet tall, but her five foot six inches fit perfectly tucked against him.

Veronica’s gaze bounced between Gavin and Dixie. “What kind of date?”

“A boy-girl date.” Dixie smiled sweetly.

“Honey, a girl like you can’t handle a military man.”

Dixie had heard that Gavin Tucker had been stationed in Afghanistan before he’d left the army. “What do you think, Gavin? Can I handle you?”

He grinned.

Disgusted, Veronica snorted like a pig and stomped off.

“Thanks.” Gavin released Dixie and stepped back.

Wishing he still had his arm around her, she said, “No worries. Veronica can be a pest.”

“Are you celebrating later with your lady bull rider friends?”

“Probably.”

“I’m heading over to the Spittoon. Maybe I’ll see you there.”

“Maybe.”

Gavin walked off and Dixie couldn’t help but think he was exactly the kind of man she’d like to marry someday.

* * *

GAVIN STEPPED INSIDE the Spittoon, a bar on the outskirts of Boot Hill, and surveyed the crowd. The place was packed, noisy, and smelled like stale beer, dusty cowboys and easy women. And he hoped Dixie Cash was among the clientele—not that he thought she was a party girl. There was something about the petite, tomboyish cowgirl that drew him. She showed the same courage and spunk as the women he’d worked alongside in the army.

He made his way to the bar, ordered a beer, then found a dark corner away from the crush of bodies. Keeping his back to the wall he searched for the blue-eyed brown-haired girl-next-door. He spotted her at a table next to the dance floor engaged in conversation with her friends. As if she sensed his scrutiny, their eyes connected and Gavin felt the subtle stirrings of arousal.

A former soldier had no business being with a girl like Dixie—that fact in and of itself fed Gavin’s desire, and adrenaline pumped through his veins. If there was one thing he was addicted to, it was adrenaline. After six years of living on the edge…living with danger…he was drawn to taking risks. And Dixie Cash was definitely a risk.

“Well, well, well.”

Gavin jumped an inch off the floor. Damn. How the hell had Veronica Patriot snuck up on him? His temper flared but he counted to ten, as a therapist had once instructed him to do when he felt threatened.

“What happened to your boy-girl date?” The buckle bunny narrowed her eyes.

“Dixie’s—”

“Here.” Dixie sidled up to Gavin and slipped her arm through his. She stood close enough that her soft breast pressed against his biceps.

“You’re not his type.” Veronica sneered. “Besides, don’t girls like you have curfews?”

“She’s right, Gavin. We should leave. It’s past my bedtime.” Dixie batted her dark lashes and suddenly Gavin’s jeans felt a size too small.

Reminding himself that Dixie’s flirting was an act to help him out of a tight spot, he said, “Ready when you are.”

“Don’t you want a real woman, soldier?” Veronica thrust her bosom out, flaunting her attributes.

After a lengthy glare-down, Veronica stepped aside and Gavin led Dixie across the dance floor and out the door. It wasn’t until they were almost to his truck that he realized he still held her hand. He stopped and glanced over his shoulder. Veronica had followed them outside.

“She doesn’t give up easily, I’ll give her that,” Dixie said.

“How would you feel about leaving with me in my truck?”

“I don’t know. Can I trust you?”

“Sugar, if I harm one hair on your head, your brothers will hunt me down.”

“You’re right. I’ll go for a ride with you.”

Ten minutes later… “She’s still following us.” Gavin glanced between the road and the rearview mirror. Dixie’s stomach growled and he threw caution to the wind. “You up for Chinese takeout? We could eat at the motel. If Veronica sees us go into my room together maybe she’ll give up.”

“I don’t believe that woman knows the meaning of surrender, but I won’t turn down a free meal.”

Veronica trailed them to the restaurant and then the motel where she parked across the lot, facing Gavin’s room. Ignoring their stalker, he and Dixie sat on the king-size bed, ate chop suey and watched the old spaghetti Western, A Fistful of Dynamite.

Near the end of the movie, Gavin peeked out the window. Veronica’s Mustang was gone. The woman had finally left him alone. He checked his watch—half past one in the morning. Time to drive Dixie back to the Spittoon so she could be on her way home. “Coast is clear.” He turned from the window.

Dixie lay curled in a ball on the bed, her hands folded neatly beneath her cheek, her chest rising and falling in deep, even breaths. In sleep, she appeared innocent and cuddly and he wanted to lose himself in all her sweet goodness. But Gavin didn’t dare crawl onto the bed with Dixie and risk falling asleep. He couldn’t take the chance he’d experience the recurring nightmare that had followed him home from Afghanistan. He lowered the volume on the TV and made himself comfortable in the chair. He’d gone many nights without a wink of sleep, but the longer he watched Dixie’s slumbering body the more exhausted he became.

The sun streaming through a gap in the curtains woke Gavin at the crack of dawn. He wasn’t sitting in the chair—he was lying on the bed. Sometime in the middle of the night he’d crawled under the covers. He rolled away from the light and came face-to-face with a wide-awake Dixie.

He held his breath, waiting for her to make the first move—she did. Her lips brushed his, then came back for more. One kiss turned into two…three…then clothes started flying off.

Chapter One

“Hello, Gavin.”

The saccharine voice raised a warning flag inside Gavin Tucker’s head. Bracing himself, he stepped away from the bucking chute at the Piney Gorge Rodeo and faced Veronica Patriot with a groan. “Veronica.”

The woman took buckle bunnying to a whole new level. She’d been pursuing Gavin since he’d joined the circuit back in May after he’d left the army. The middle of August had arrived and the blonde piranha showed no signs of tiring.

Gavin adjusted the spurs on his boots, hoping she’d take his silence as a hint and mosey along. At first, he’d found Veronica’s infatuation amusing. He’d become accustomed to pretty women fawning over him whenever he’d worn his military uniform and the same held true for his cowboy getup—Wranglers, boots and a Stetson.