Blondie didn’t even look Emma’s way when she handed Emma a twenty-dollar bill. Emma laughed softly, snatched up the bill, quickly grabbing change from the register, and placed the bills and change onto the bar, still being ignored.
The band suddenly shifted songs, belting out a Keith Urban classic. Blondie squealed, “Oh, this song’s my favorite!” She grabbed her beer, her change, and the woman standing next to her by the arm, then danced her way to the dance floor.
The man she’d been ogling followed.
Ah, the beginnings of sweet love. Or maybe a one-night stand.
Emma had neither of those options, and that was perfectly fine. Her sleepless nights were because of a man. She didn’t want another. Focusing away from the tightness in her chest and onto her job, she reached for the cloth beneath the bar and set to cleaning up the spilled beer when something made her look up.
The air evaporated around her.
A man wove his way through the crowd, obviously arriving for the busy night at Kinky Spurs. He had to be a regular on Thursday nights. She’d seen that cowboy every Thursday since she’d started working there three weeks ago. Her heart rate kicked up a notch or two as he drew closer, like it had every time she’d seen him.
There was not a hint of weakness in him. This guy was all man, right down to his toned, muscular body. He wasn’t fancy, sticking to a dark-brown cowboy hat, plaid button-down, worn blue jeans, and scuffed-up brown boots. He wore the look well, his clothes hugged his body in all the right places. His mouth curved as he approached, his gaze locked onto hers.
Apparently, he knew exactly what his presense did to her. And it was unreal.
He practically oozed strength and heat, making her want to forget she was at work all together. Though what held him apart from every other man in this room was the power contained in his silvery-blue eyes. The sharpness in those eyes captivated her, the awareness in their depths seemed to know all the things she wanted answers to. And the small smile teasing his mouth caused butterflies to flutter in her belly, flushing her skin red-hot. Suddenly, she became very aware that she only wore a tight, red T-shirt with kinky spurs written across her chest in bold white calligraphy and tiny denim shorts that barely covered her butt. The only thing that felt covered up at the moment were her feet, by her new dark-brown cowboy boots.
She forced herself not to turn into a babbling fool when he reached her. “What can I get you?” she asked, proud her voice came out steady and calm.
That half smile hadn’t faded. If anything, his grin looked more dangerous than ever. He slid onto the stool, his forearms resting on the bar, muscles cording. “I think it’s about time we stop this, don’t you?”
That low voice was as seductive as it was addictive. No man should have that voice. She gathered all her strength and replied, “Pardon me?”
He leaned forward, focused on her. “How about we stop pretending that we see anyone else in this bar but each other?”
She nearly opened her mouth and agreed with what he’d said. Hell, for three weeks, she only saw him every time he came into the bar, until he left. For whatever unknown reason, she was accurately aware of this guy in a way she’d never been to anyone before. This thing between them had caught her completely off guard, and whenever he was around, she seemed to lose control of her mind.
Though on the flip side, she also got asked out at least three times a night. She wasn’t only led by her hormones. Rules were rules. “I’m flattered, truly, and thank you, but we’re not allowed to date customers.” Okay, that was a total lie. Megan Harrison, the owner of Kinky Spurs, didn’t put those kinds of restrictions on her employees, but Emma had learned these past weeks that her answer worked the best to get a man’s attention focusing elsewhere.
Sexy Eyes needed to look elsewhere or she’d end up in his bed; a fact she knew with total certainty. She didn’t have the energy for a relationship, and her heart was still healing. She was a month out of having her heart pulverized by Jake Cadwell. Getting into any type of a relationship, even if simply a sexual one, wasn’t on her agenda tonight, or any night for that matter. Sometimes a girl needed to breathe without the distraction of a man.
This was her time to breathe.
Not giving Sexy Eyes the chance to talk again and pull her under a spell she’d never recover from, she turned to the woman sitting next to him. “What can I get ya?” she asked.
Sexy Eyes’ answering low chuckle told Emma he wasn’t anywhere near done with her yet.
“Rum and Coke,” the brunette replied.
Emma grabbed a glass from the bar, fighting against the shaking of her hand when she reached for the bottle of rum. Dammit. Sexy Eyes had been in her thoughts all the time, especially late at night. And that had been without ever talking to him. If he added charm into this obvious chemistry between them, she wouldn’t say no to him. And she needed to say no. Or at least her heart needed to say no.
When she added the Coke from the soda gun, her gaze lifted to the spot Sexy Eyes had been, and he was gone. Emma blew out a long breath, forcing the flutters in her belly to calm.
“I need to call in a favor tonight.”
Emma blinked and glanced sideways, finding Megan sidling up next to her. With her trim figure, freckles dusting her nose, wavy sandy-brown hair, and her unique eyes—one a crystal blue and the other a warm brown—she stood out in the crowd, for sure. Everything about Megan screamed strength and sensuality, and as the owner of Kinky Spurs at only twenty-eight years old, she clearly had a good head on her shoulders. “What favor?” Emma asked.
Megan reached for the microphone next to the cash register. “You don’t have any objection in taking part in Rope ’Em Up, do you?”
“Depends on what the game is.” Emma had seen some of the games that happened at Kinky Spurs every Thursday, Friday, and Saturday night at ten o’clock. Last week, four women willingly let themselves be hog-tied by four cowboys. The winner received a free dinner at the bar. Emma didn’t think that was enough of a reward.
“It’s nothing crazy.” Megan smiled, probably at the trepidation crossing Emma’s face. “You’ll be a horse.”
Emma blinked. “I’ll be a horse?”
“Yup.” Megan nodded. “You’ll get roped, then your wrists will be tied. No big deal.”
Emma’s lips parted to refuse her. She closed them immediately after and reconsidered. Last week, another bartender volunteered and went up on stage. That seemed to only happen when Megan didn’t have enough women to take part in the games. She finally sighed. “Well, I suppose it’s my turn to take one for the team, isn’t it?”
Megan patted Emma on the arm. “You’re a doll. I owe you.”
The bar seemed to get a whole lot smaller as Megan weaved her way through the crowd toward the stage. For the most part, people who came to Kinky Spurs were here for their famous chicken wings that went from mild to sweat-your-ass-off hot, and for the local craft beer. Except for Thursday, Friday, and Saturday nights. Those nights belonged to the students from the nearby University of Colorado, the twenty-somethings that lived in River Rock, as well as the tourists, who wanted a little something extra than a typical night out at the club.
From what Emma had learned since she began working there, the bar had originally been owned by Gerald Kinky. When Megan had bought the place two years ago after Gerald retired, she’d been inspired by the bar’s name and decided to hold a kinky game that was sex related to draw in a fun crowd. Of course, Megan didn’t allow sexual intercourse to happen in her bar, but she was smart enough to know sex sells. And apparently at Kinky Spurs it sold, since for the three weeks that Emma had been there, the place had been packed.