Trouble with a Cowboy

By Sandy Sullivan

18 wheels had her heart until one hard up cowboy found her kickin' up her heels and propositioned her to take his bull to Vegas.

Jacie Hawkins drives big wheelers for a livin'. Something not a lot of women do. Littleton Oklahoma is just a dry stopover for a few hours of rest and relaxation at the nearest bar. Jacie needs to find a hot cowboy to release some of her pent up frustrations on for the night, but wannabe's aren't her style.

Tucker Marshall needs a big-rig driver to haul his prize bull to National Finals Rodeo and he needs one fast. Who would have thought he'd find one shootin' pool at the local bar dressed to kill and takin' numbers?

Can some slashed tires and an onery bull bring two hard-headed people together for some fun in the sun and a little more?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Sandy Sullivan
• Release date: Jun 21, 2019
• ISBN: 9781944122171

Sandy Sullivan

Sandy Sullivan is a romance author, who, when not writing, spends her time with her husband Shaun on their farm in middle Tennessee. She loves to ride her horses, play with their dogs and relax on the porch, enjoying the rolling hills of her home south of Nashville. Country music is a passion of hers and she loves to listen to it while she writes. She is an avid reader of romance novels and enjoys reading Nora Roberts, Jude Deveraux and Susan Wiggs. Finding new authors and delving into something different helps feed the need for literature. A registered nurse by education, she loves to help people and spread the enjoyment of romance to those around her with her novels. She loves cowboys so you'll find many of her novels have sexy men in tight jeans and cowboy boots. Sandy’s website www.romancestorytime.com

Book preview

TROUBLE WITH A COWBOY

Sandy Sullivan

Erotic Romance

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Erotic Romance

Trouble With a Cowboy

Copyright © 2013 Sandy Sullivan

E-book ISBN: 978-1-944122-17-1

First E-book Publication: February 2013

Second Ebook Publicaton: October 2015

Cover design by Dawné Dominique

Edited by Stephanie Balistreri

Proofread by Rene Flowers

All cover art and logo copyright © 2013 by Sandy Sullivan

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED: This literary work may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, including electronic or photographic reproduction, in whole or in part, without express written permission.

All characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

Dedication

This book is dedicated to the lover of cowboys. You all know who you are!

The author acknowledges the trademark status and the following trademark owners mentioned in this work of fiction....

The Professional Bull Riders Association

Target Corp.

Bellagio (resort and casino)

Snickers

Wranglers

Stetson

Apple IPod

TROUBLE WITH A COWBOY

Sandy Sullivan

Copyright © 2013

Chapter One

Bum-fuck nowhere, Oklahoma.

What'cha drinkin', honey? The bartender greeted Jacie Hawkins with a flirty smile.

Beer, please, she said, sliding some money across to the nice looking, broad shouldered guy behind the counter.

Any particular brand you're partial to?

Bud is fine. In a bottle, please.

No problem. The man popped the cap and set the beer down in front of her. You ain't from here.

She tipped the longneck to her lips, taking a deep draw, before leaning against the bar. How'd you guess?

I'd have noticed you before, honey.

She narrowed her eyes on the man. Yes, she wanted to find a gorgeous cowboy to sate her lust, but this guy wasn't the one. Is that supposed to be an offhanded compliment?

The guy tipped his cowboy hat. His grin got bigger while he chewed the toothpick hanging from the edge of his mouth. Nothing offhanded about it, beautiful.

Whatever, she grumbled, rolling her eyes. Men were all the same. They figured a few flowery compliments and any girl would eat out of their palm or from between their legs inside a minute or two. Well not this girl.

Spinning around on the barstool, she looked over the crowd while dangling the bottle of beer between her fingers. The men outnumbered the women two to one. Every imaginable kind of sparkle or rhinestone could be found on either the back pockets of jeans or spelling something out across an overemphasized chest.

Her white spaghetti strap tank top with a shear black top over it, black hip hugging jeans, black pointed toe cowboy boots and her championship gold rodeo buckle, completed her attire. The choice of outfit made her a cut above most of the women in this bar. There were a few in the crowd, who looked authentic, but very few.

Every now and then, Jacie Margaret Hawkins broke down to become the girl beneath the jeans, oversized shirt, baseball cap and tomboy exterior. Tonight would be that night—in a town where she knew no one.

She hated stopping while she hauled her horse, but the animal needed the break. The excursion from Tennessee to Vegas had taken its toll on her mare. She needed to give her baby a day or two to stretch her legs.

Long days of driving were nothing new for her. Truck driving paid the bills. A woman trucker usually caught the attention of others on the road, but no one messed with Jacie. Her don't fuck with me attitude usually kept unwanted advances at bay.

These women don't have a clue. Most men don't give a damn about a wannabe cowgirl, they want the real thing. She frowned. Until they figure out they can't handle the real thing. Her focus dropped to the planks scattered with sawdust.

Lean hips and a bull rider belt buckle blocked her view of the multitude of cowboy boots standing nearby. Her gaze crawled up a flat, chiseled abdomen, across sculpted muscles, over a firm jaw to meet sexy brown eyes.

What's the frown for, pretty lady?

She tipped the bottle to her lips to take a long drink, keeping her eyes on the gorgeous man in front of her.

Once she'd swallowed, she said, Contemplation.

Huh?

Great. Probably barely made his way through high school.

I was trying to figure out how many of them, she nodded to the crowd twirling on the dance floor, are real.

Real?

Real cowboys or just wannabes.

Brown eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled as he hooked his fingers behind his belt buckle and tilted the shiny metal up. Mine's real, sweet thing.

Is it? Where did you win it?

National Finals Rodeo last year. Bull ridin'.

Is that right? She took another sip of her beer.

Yeah. The cowboy pulled his shoulders back proudly.

You know, that's funny. I rode last year. I sure don't remember you. What did you say your name was?

The man frowned as a trickle of sweat appeared over his lip. Kyle Fredrick.

Kyle... She tipped the bottle to her lips again. Mmm...nope. I sure don't remember you. You know what else?

His eyes narrowed as he shifted from foot to foot. What.

"I have an official belt buckle in barrel racing. She tapped the buckle at her waist with her fingernail, and then pointed toward his. That's about the worst fake I've ever seen. The real one, honey, is gold with World Champion Bull Rider on the bottom and your name engraved just above that. She stood in front of him so they stood toe-to-toe. That trinket might work on one of those rhinestone babes out there, but it won't work on me. I know the real thing when I see it."

When the music changed, bathing the bar in silence for a moment, she heard a soft chuckle to her left. Tipping her head, she locked gazes with the guy two stools down. He lifted an eyebrow and tipped his hat as a crooked, half-smile graced his mouth, showing off pearly-white teeth with a dimple in his left cheek. Before she got a good look at the color of his eyes, the cowboy in front of her pulled her attention back to him.

You're a bitch.

I've been called that before. You'll have to come up with something more original...Kyle.

With a pissed-off growl, Kyle spun on his heel, disappearing into the crowd farther down the bar. Jacie took her seat again, propping her boot heels on the rung of the chair and tipped the bottle to her lips. Beer slid down her throat in a cool wash of satisfaction.

Moments later, two-stools down cowboy moved one stool closer when the man next to her headed for the door.

Elbows balanced on the bar behind her as the bottle dangled from her fingers, she glanced sideways and her gaze met the prettiest baby blues she'd ever seen. One sweep from the top of his black Stetson and dark hair, over his broad chest and down his yummy torso, told her a lot. A working man. Dusty cowboy boots peeked out from the hem of his jeans.

Hi, he offered.

Hi, yourself.

Name's Tucker. He held out his hand.  

She stared at his palm. Calluses. Working hands. Short nails. Clean.

Grasping his hand in hers, she wasn't prepared for the zing of electricity pricking her skin where they touched.

Jacie.

Nice to meet you, Jacie.

You, too Tucker.

Sorry about that guy.

Why? Is he a friend of yours?

A short snort left his mouth. Not in this lifetime. I'm only hopin' you don't judge the whole lot by him.

Nah. She smiled and lifted the bottle to her lips again, draining the remaining beer. He's nothing new. I'm used to his type.

What type is that?

The lay 'em and leave 'em kind. Once he gets between a woman's thighs, he's gone.

The chuckle returned. Probably right on the money.

Occasionally, that's not a bad thing, but tonight...not necessarily what I'm looking for.

He leaned closer as the music started again. The spicy, almost citrusy scent of his cologne and virile male mixed with...cattle, reached her nose. Interesting.

Can I buy you another beer? he asked, his breath rushing over the shell of her ear.

One shoulder lifted in a shrug. Sure.

Signaling for the bartender, he stood to pull some money from his front pocket, bringing his chest into close proximity with her shoulder. The heat radiating off his skin sent shivers skittering across her arm, and she fought the urge to rub the flesh to calm the goose bumps.

His tanned hand held a bottle out in front of her.

Thanks.

You're welcome. He sipped from his beer, but when he lowered the bottle his eyes found hers again. What are you doing in Littleton, Oklahoma?

Hanging out with you.

"Yeah, right. A babe like you doesn't hang out in small town honky-tonks."

She flinched at his comment as she dropped her gaze to the front of his shirt. Just passin' through.

I see. Mysterious. Works for me. He set his beer on the bar behind her. Care to dance?

Do I really want those hands on me? Hell yeah!

Sure. She set her bottle next to his before they headed for the dance floor.

The song changed to a slow ballad causing her to cringe. Slow dancing with this gorgeous, rugged cowboy could send her right between the sheets with him in a heartbeat. Good or bad, she wasn't sure he would be the type to easily walk away from. When she turned, she sucked in a ragged breath before she slipped her hands up around his neck. He settled his palms on her hips. Her heartbeat hitched up a notch and her fingertips itched to run along the solid ridges of his pecs—ridges that came from hard work, not a gym.

Tucker slowly tugged her closer—close enough her breasts brushed against the tantalizing muscles beneath his shirt. The flesh of her nipples pucker tight.

Okay, it's been way too long since I've had a man hold me.

You smell nice, he whispered, his lips next to her ear.

It's only a dance, Tucker. Don't get any ideas.

Wait a minute. Isn't that what I came here for? A little attention from a handsome cowboy and maybe a tumble between the sheets, before I'm stuck in the cab of my truck with nothing for company but my radio and my vibrator. That does sound mighty nice.

Just a dance.

They swayed slowly to the music while the warmth of his hand penetrated the thin material of her shirt, heating the skin like a branding iron.

Problem? he murmured, brushing his nose into her hair.

She cleared her throat. No. Goose bumps pricked her skin as his breath flittered across her neck. She fought the urge to tip her head to give him access to the spot below her ear. Wanting to relieve some of the tense feelings he stirred, she asked, Do you ride?

Some. He stepped back, giving her a little breathing room, but now his stare held hers. Heat zipped straight between her thighs to her now aching clit. The throb of need took her by surprise. Most men didn't stir this powerful desire in her and she wondered why she reacted to this one so strongly.

Shit!

Bulls, horses?

Both, but not often. Mostly horses. His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled. The blue of his iris's sparkled in the lights swirling around the bar. You?

Horses.

Mmm...too bad you don't drive a big rig.

Why's that?

I know someone looking to transport a bull to Vegas for the rodeo.

Yeah, too bad.

The music came to an end and she reluctantly stepped out of his embrace.

You'll have to excuse me. I need to use the little cowgirl's room.

Of course.

Sweat trickled down her spine. Lord, it's hot in here. She glanced at Tucker one last time, noticing how his gaze slid enticingly down her frame before returning to her face. Okay, maybe it's the heat directed at me from him, but holy hell, I'm likin' it.

After a quick inhale, she headed for the restroom.

The door marked women stood partially open. The loud laughter of several females met her ear as she stepped inside. Bright florescent lighting glared and she had to squint to focus until her vision adjusted. Talk around her centered on the cowboys hanging out nearby.

That Kyle. He's got one heavy hand, said the blonde standing near the sink.

I don't know why you let him hit you. He's an ass, replied the petite brunette next to her.

Because he's good in bed, the first one answered.

Jacie snorted. Yeah, I don't think so. There isn't a man alive who would dare hit me. I'd kill him first.

Once she completed her business, she made her way out toward the bar to find Tucker in her chair.

Um...you've got my seat.

Well, someone took mine, so you'll have to sit on my knee.

She lifted an eyebrow, placed her hand on her hip and shook her head. I don't think so there slugger.

We could always find a table or play a little eight ball. There's one free.

Sure, why not, she replied with a shrug of her shoulders.

If there's one thing I love, it's playing pool and it doesn't hurt that one hot cowboy wants to play. I wonder how friendly he really wants to get.

Up for a little adventure?

A sexy smile spread across his face. Adventure?

Down boy. I'm only askin' if you want to play for a little cash.

His lips formed a pout and she had to stifle a giggle.

Five bucks a game?

That could get mighty expensive unless you're good, he replied, pulling out his wallet to lay a five dollar bill on the edge of the table. You're on, babe.

Chalking the stick while he racked the balls, she debated on whether to tell him how often she shot pool. Nah. Let him suffer a bit. Taking him down a notch or two won't be a bad thing. Besides, his ass fills out those jeans mighty nicely when he bends over the table.

For the next two hours, they continued to knock the balls around the table fairly evenly. Beer flowed as bottle after bottle appeared at their table. Little did her pool partner know, she held her liquor well. It would take a lot more than a few beers to get her drunk.

The flirting got raunchier with each passing compliment or innuendo and she thought about upping the ante to include a roll in the hay or between the sheets. Rarely did she run into a man who could send her thoughts in the direction of hot, sweaty sex so quickly, but Tucker sure had her thinking about it and thinking about it hard.

Kyle walked by their table a couple of times, piercing her with a wait until I get you alone stare. She wondered if she should ask Tucker to take her to the hotel. A shiver of apprehension slithered down her back. Something sinister lurked in Kyle’s eyes.

The games seemed to be pretty well matched. Both of them won four games apiece and now they were in a stare down.

One more game? he asked before he tipped the bottle to his lips.

Damn, he's got one sexy mouth. I wonder what it would feel like sucking my clit. She let the cool liquid slide down her throat as she took a long swig, hoping to cool some of the desire rushing through her with each look