It was true. At thirty, he was getting too old for saddle bronc riding. But if he didn’t have rodeo, he had nothing. “You’re only as old as you feel,” he said. “And I’m not ready to become an old married man like you and spend my days holding my wife’s yarn while she knits.”
Lincoln laughed. “That’s not how Dixie and I spend our days, but I’ll let you keep your illusions.” He paused, and there was real concern in his voice when he spoke. “Be careful, Sawyer. I mean it.”
“I’m always careful, Linc. Give Dixie a kiss for me.”
“Hell, no. You kiss enough women. Dixie is all mine. Go kiss your . . . friend.”
Sawyer laughed as he hung up. But his laughter faded when he noticed the unopened message on the screen of his phone. The same message that had prompted the bottle of tequila. Even now, the words made his gut tighten and his chest ache. If he’d had a bottle of tequila, he would’ve taken a deep swig—rodeo today or not.
The wedding is still set for September 15. Please forgive me and come.
Sawyer deleted the text before he tossed his cellphone to the nightstand and gingerly climbed out of bed.
Every bone in his body hurt and not just from his hangover. He woke up in pain every morning. All the abuse his body had taken over the years had started to catch up to him. If you were only as old as you felt, he was a hundred and ten.
“I’ll love cheat-ers. And I’ll talk sweet-er,” the woman’s off-key voice pulled him from his thoughts and made him smile. She was so bad that it was kinda cute. He cracked his neck and stretched out a few of his sore muscles before he headed to the bathroom. The door was locked, but luckily, his little Tequila Girl hadn’t closed it tightly and he was able to push it open. All he could see behind the white shower curtain was a shadow. He quickly stripped off his boxers and eased back the curtain.
His breath hitched at the sight that greeted him. With the way the woman sang, he’d been a little nervous about her looks. But she had one hot rockin’ body. She was a petite thing. Her head barely reached the top of his shoulders as he stepped into the tub. She was standing in the shower spray with her back to him, which was probably why she hadn’t realized he was there. That and she was still caterwauling. But he didn’t mind the singing so much when he had such a great view.
Water cascaded through hair the color of a sorrel mare. The river of hair hung all the way down to the curves of her ass. She had one fine ass. The two firm, rounded cheeks made Sawyer’s dick feel a lot younger than the rest of his body. The butt cheeks were attached to lean, muscled legs. Legs he intended to have wrapped around his waist as soon as possible. He picked up the bar of soap on the side of the tub and worked up a lather. When soap bubbles were dripping through his fingers, he moved closer and slid them over each sweet cheek.
A startled gasp was quickly followed by the sharp pain of an elbow to his stomach. Sawyer sucked in air and stumbled back. His feet slipped on soap bubbles and slid into the woman and they both fell into the bathtub in a tangle of legs and arms. He took the brunt of the fall, his shoulder bumping the edge of the tub. But with two soft breasts pressed against his chest and something even more tempting pressed against his semi-erection, he barely registered the pain.
“Well, I guess that will teach me to surprise a woman in the shower,” he said with amusement in his voice. “Although I can’t complain with an outcome like this.” He slid his hands over her nice butt and gave each cheek a gentle squeeze.
She released another gasp and lifted her head. All desire was completely obliterated by the familiar brown eyes the color of rich chocolate . . . and the little nose sprinkled with freckles . . . and the full bowed lips—the same lips he’d pictured taking a shot of tequila.
He slammed his eyes closed and hoped this was all just a bad dream brought on by his hangover and the conversation with Lincoln. But when he cracked them back open, she was still there.
“Maisy Sweeney.” The name came out of him on a puff of disbelief.
She flashed a bright smile that showed off the slight gap between her front teeth. “In the flesh. I’m guessing you thought someone else spent the night with you.”
Spent the night with him. Good God. This was the reason he’d woken up feeling like he had done something bad. He had. While he’d done a lot of bad deeds in his life, he’d prided himself on always keeping his word. Now he couldn’t even claim that.
“Shit.”
“So you’re just going to lie there and cuss while you maul my butt?” she asked.
He quickly released her ass and held up his hands like a rodeo roper after tie-down roping a calf. “Sorry. Umm . . . do you think you could get off me?”
She sat up, straddling him like he was a bronc. When he saw her pretty teacup-sized breasts with the sweet raspberry nipples and felt the heat of her nestled against his stomach, he wanted to buck. He wanted to buck deep and hard. But he’d already made that mistake. He couldn’t make it again.
He closed his eyes and willed his cock to soften. It didn’t listen. It twitched behind her like a divining rod searching for water. When she finally climbed off him, he sat up and grabbed the shower curtain to cover himself like some kind of goddamned shy virgin. He got one more glimpse of nice ass before she wrapped a towel around her body. When she was completely covered, he ran a hand over his face and tried to come to terms with what he’d done.
“What happened? How did I end up in bed with . . . you?” The words were filled with the disgust he felt at himself for breaking his word. But when he saw her shoulders tighten, he realized how it had sounded. He started to apologize, but she threw him an annoyed look and left the bathroom before he could.
He got up and grabbed a towel off the rack. After drying off, he wrapped it around his waist and walked into the bedroom. He wished he had moved a little slower. Maisy wore nothing but her bra and panties. Pretty black lace bra and panties that he never would’ve guessed the tough cowgirl would own . . . much less wear. They were sexy as hell.
He turned his back to her and shoved the image in the lockbox of his brain where he hoped to keep the other forbidden images of Maisy. “I’m sorry, Maze. I’m not upset at you. I’m upset at myself for getting drunk and making a bad decision.”
“So you consider sex with me a bad decision?”
Damn. He was really screwing this up. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant that we’re friends . . . and it’s weird to realize you slept with your friend.”
“Since when are we friends? You’ve barely talked to me since Linc and Dixie’s wedding. You’re not worried about ruining our friendship as much as you’re worried about people finding out Sawyer Dawson had sex with ‘Little Girl.’”
It was a nickname the male rodeo riders had given Maisy. They’d given him a nickname too. But “Saw” didn’t come close to being as demeaning as “Little Girl.” He knew it pissed her off, and he understood why. There was nothing childish about all the hard work Maisy had put in to get where she was. She was the top female saddle bronc rider in the country. She deserved respect for that. She also deserved some respect from him. He was freaked out about breaking his word to Lincoln, but that didn’t give him the right to be a complete asshole to Maisy.