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Come Closer, Cowboy
Debbi Rawlins


Friends with very naughty benefits…Mallory Brandt needs a change. The kind of change that makes a gal close her Hollywood bar, move 1400 miles across the country, and start a new life in Blackfoot Falls, Montana—in four weeks. Coincidentally, that's how long her oldest friend, Gunner Ellison, has been out of the country…and since they had super-hot, tequila-fueled sex for the first time.And man, Gunner is pissed. Mallory never returned his calls, never told him she was leaving. Now he's shown up in Blackfoot Falls—and he's not leaving until he gets answers. Only problem is, their searing chemistry keeps getting in the way, distracting them both from the feelings they're afraid to acknowledge…and the fact that their friendship will never be the same!







Friends with very naughty benefits...

Mallory Brandt needs a change. The kind of change that makes a gal close her Hollywood bar, move 1400 miles across the country and start a new life in Blackfoot Falls, Montana—in four weeks. Coincidentally, that’s how long her oldest friend, Gunner Ellison, has been out of the country...and since they had super-hot, tequila-fueled sex for the first time.

And man, Gunner is pissed. Mallory never returned his calls, never told him she was leaving. Now he’s shown up in Blackfoot Falls—and he’s not leaving until he gets answers. Only problem is, their searing chemistry keeps getting in the way, distracting them both from the feelings they’re afraid to acknowledge...and the fact that their friendship will never be the same!


“Friends, right?”

“With or without sex?”

Mallory sighed.

Gunner smiled slowly. “Okay,” he said, releasing her arm and offering his hand. “No sex.”

The second she grasped his hand, he tugged her into his arms.

She felt so good against him, warm and soft and real. He lowered his mouth to hers, and their tongues touched. A soft, helpless moan came from the back of her throat, lighting a fire in his belly that tested his self-control.

If he got any harder he was going to explode.

A firm shove to his chest sent him back a step.

“What’s wrong with you?” Mallory glared at him. “We just agreed to be friends, no sex.”

“Kissing isn’t sex.”

She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling. Gunner tried not to stare. Or think about how sweet she’d tasted.

God, he wanted her...and he’d do whatever it took to get her back in his bed.


Dear Reader (#ulink_d74de230-2d15-5520-a266-8f72ff9f5168),

Welcome to all of you who are new to my Made in Montana series! As for the rest of you “old-timers,” you’ll be surprised at some of the changes around Blackfoot Falls.

Right before starting this book, I was thinking about a few of the characters we’ve met and others whose stories I want to tell, and it hit me. I’ve been an absolute terrible hostess. There are only two places where people can eat and drink in the whole town. That might’ve been fine after the economy tanked and before the McAllisters opened the dude ranch, but too much has happened since then.

Kids who went off to college or set out to see the world have been coming home. Tourism is on the rise, and Hollywood’s renewed interest in Westerns has brought film crews to capture the beautiful, untamed land at the foot of the Rockies.

I couldn’t have everyone rebelling and moving to Kalispell, so I had to do something quick. California bar owner Mallory Brandt seemed like a good candidate to stir things up on Main Street. The night she opens the Full Moon Saloon, Gunner Ellison, her best friend—and the one man she never should’ve had sex with—shows up, determined to win her back.

There’s a special place in my heart for this couple, even with all the trouble they gave me. I hope you enjoy their story.

All my best,









Come Closer, Cowboy

Debbi Rawlins





www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)


DEBBI RAWLINS grew up in the country and loved Western movies and books. Her first crush was on a cowboy—okay, he was an actor in the role of a cowboy, but she was only eleven, so it counts. It was Houston, Texas, where she first started writing for Harlequin, and now she has her own ranch...of sorts. Instead of horses, she has four dogs, four cats, a trio of goats and free-range cattle on a few acres in gorgeous rural Utah.


Contents

Cover (#ua927f182-9fdf-5499-b1ef-8999d3cb4509)

Back Cover Text (#ua0eeda3d-0c32-5d01-85fb-7fc7f19b6afc)

Introduction (#u263f64a4-bfc4-5c4f-9416-6bcad032b836)

Dear Reader (#ud3408de8-7511-52ad-bb11-42eb74439cde)

Title Page (#ub113f185-4f54-5124-a656-7f1188c836ad)

About the Author (#u6217a73f-73b2-5310-a073-929b21d8bb4b)

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Extract (#litres_trial_promo)

Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)


1 (#u7f848c24-9b8e-5eed-b265-26033fff2cca)

MALLORY HAD DISAPPEARED. Without a single word. Without so much as leaving a voice mail.

Gunner Ellison stood at the open door to the Renegade and slipped off his sunglasses. He’d expected to see her standing behind the bar just like always, staring back at him with those sexy green eyes and that killer smile. But the place was empty. The solid oak tables and chairs were gone. So was the pool table, the jukebox and the dartboard. In the window was a sign that said Closed for Good.

Too many sleepless nights and the long plane ride had nearly knocked him on his ass. Exhausted, Gunner rubbed his eyes, hoping this was nothing but a bad dream. Then he took another bleak look around.

Everything. Gone.

He just didn’t get it. She still had another week left on her lease. They’d talked about her raising drink prices in order to meet the steep rent hike. Other stuntmen he worked and drank with, and even the bikers who crowded her Valencia bar at all hours, none of them would’ve cared. Not if it meant keeping Mallory in business.

This was crazy. They were friends, damn it, and he’d offered to help her. Couldn’t she have waited for him to get back before giving up the place?

He’d been working on location in Argentina for four weeks. They’d talked a couple times after he’d first gotten there. But then she’d stopped taking his calls. And he had a terrible feeling he knew why.

They’d had sex. In the back room the night before he’d left. On the pool table, against the wall and maybe even on the old oak bar itself.

They’d both had a few drinks, though he hadn’t been too drunk when he’d pulled her into his arms. Maybe she’d been more wasted than he’d thought—she rarely had more than a beer around closing time—but something about that night had made them wild for each other. Tearing at each other’s clothes. Slow, deep kisses until neither of them could breathe. He’d tried to figure it out. Every night as he’d lain awake, remembering the taste of her, or the way she’d moaned.

“Can I help you, mister?” An older man wearing stained work clothes and mopping his bald head came from the back room.

“Any idea when the Renegade closed?”

“We started remodeling over a week ago. Got called at the last minute.”

Gunner swept a final gaze around the room. For ten years he’d been coming here. The place held a lot of memories, not just of Mallory. He’d felt like he belonged here after he’d gotten his shot in the stunt business. Coop, Mallory’s dad, had been a stuntman himself, hurt bad before he opened the bar. But he and the other guys who’d hung out at the Renegade had made Gunner, a damn rookie in the Stuntmen’s Association, feel like one of them.

Mallory had taken over the day after Coop’s funeral. It was going on six years now, but the place had been her home since her mother had run off.

“Well, mister, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to leave. It’s quitting time and I’m locking up.”

Gunner nodded. He’d forgotten the guy was there.

Pulling out his phone, he headed for his truck. He tried Mallory. And was sent straight to voice mail. She was really starting to piss him off.

He drove to her apartment on Rye Canyon, anger simmering in his gut. He was too exhausted for this bullshit. So they’d had sex. Didn’t mean they had to avoid each other.

Though he’d never been inside, he knew her unit was on the ground floor at the end. He didn’t see her car and cruised past a U-Haul truck that was blocking his view.

Gunner slowed when he saw a young woman with dark hair carrying a box into the apartment. Mallory’s apartment. His heart jumped a few gears and shot into overdrive.

When the woman emerged and headed to the U-Haul, Gunner lowered his window. “Excuse me. A friend of mine used to live in your apartment. Do you have any idea where she moved?”

She paused a moment. “I think Montana.”

Montana? What the hell? Who did Mallory know in—

Shit. “Hey, thanks,” he said, and pulled out. At the next corner, he stopped and grabbed his phone.

He didn’t have many people on speed dial, but Ben Wolf was one of them. If Mallory had moved to Montana it was because of their friend Wolf. After Gunner got some answers, then maybe he’d be able to get a good night’s sleep. Without dreaming of Mallory’s long, slender legs wrapped around his waist.

* * *

“IS THERE ANY chance at all you can still get here by this evening?” Mallory Brandt asked, then held the phone a foot away from her ear. The man had to be near deaf. His voice was so loud she could’ve heard him from the back room.

“No, ma’am. It’s my truck,” Dexter said. “The brakes are shot. Gotta get them replaced.”

“Okay.” Granted, she knew nothing about cars, but she suspected his brakes hadn’t suddenly crapped out without warning. When she’d responded to his ad for the used mechanical bull, Dexter had promised he could deliver it by today. “So, that means...what?”

“Mebbe you can borrow a vehicle and pick Fanny up yourself,” Dexter said, a shrewd dip in his tone. “I’ll knock off forty bucks.”

Mallory rubbed her bloodshot eyes. So that’s what this was about...he’d decided he didn’t want to drive the seventy miles to Blackfoot Falls. “Not possible,” she said, wondering if he knew that a bull was male. “New brakes can’t be cheap. Maybe you can borrow another truck and deliver Fanny. That way you’ll have money to pay for your repair.”

Dexter sighed. “Mebbe tomorrow.”

“Let me know.” She disconnected the call and kept her cussing to a low murmur.

She was alone in the front of the bar. Mike, the finish carpenter, was tending to a few details in the back where the bull would be set up. If the stupid thing ever made it. Damn, she’d really wanted it here for opening tonight.

Oh, well, she’d been warned that people operated at a slower pace here in northwest Montana. She shouldn’t let a minor delay annoy her. Everything had gone smoothly with the renovations. The big old saloon had sat empty and neglected for fifteen years according to Sadie, who owned the Watering Hole, the only other bar for miles, and who was also the mayor.

When Mallory had questioned the need for another drinking establishment, she was assured she’d have all the business she could handle. Things were looking up in the small town. The ranchers who’d suffered from the poor economy had begun hiring men again. Other changes in the area had brought some tourism, and a film crew was shooting a Western miniseries around the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.

After three weeks, she was still in awe of them. Of course she’d seen the Rockies many times in movies and in photos. But here, all she had to do was step outside the bar for a perfect view of the snowcapped peaks unfazed by the July heat.

No wonder the area drew directors and location scouts—with a little help from Ben, an ex-stuntman she’d gotten to know at the Renegade. He’d quit stunt work to buy a ranch and raise movie stock. He’d talked up the beauty of Montana and word had spread.

Kind of ironic, Mallory thought as she skimmed her hand over the newly varnished oak bar, that she had come fourteen hundred miles to get away from Hollywood and it just might be those same folks who’d keep her in business.

No, not true. She hadn’t been trying to escape Hollywood. Just Gunner. And ridiculous California rents. Mostly Gunner, though.

God, she was such an idiot.

If she hadn’t wanted to, there wouldn’t have been enough tequila in the world to get her so drunk she’d have sex with him. Though she’d had no problem letting him think otherwise. But yes, she’d known exactly what she was getting herself into, and she’d done it anyway. Just yanked off her shirt. Let him peel off her jeans, then helped him pull down his.

And then she’d been in his arms, his strong, muscled arms, being lifted onto the pool table, his hot, demanding mouth making her his slave. Not for life. She had some pride.

But holy hell.

The very least he could’ve done was be a lousy kisser. How easily she could’ve pushed him away then. Kissing was key. If a guy didn’t pass that test, he was dead to her.

Wow, but Gunner... What he could do with that clever mouth of his...

She gulped in a lungful of air. Great. She was getting warm just thinking about it. Which wasn’t good considering she’d been trying very hard to forget that night.

She picked up the piece of notebook paper with her formidable to-do list on it and fanned herself. No use pining over him. Gunner was the type of man who belonged to all women, not just one. She’d known that even before she’d snatched that forbidden taste. And he didn’t seem to mind taking advantage of the many offers slipped to him with a whisper or a glance, a blatant invitation.

In all fairness, she had to admit he never encouraged the attention. But at six foot two with those broad shoulders, wavy dark hair and that sexy baritone, women took notice.

Basically, he was one of those rare and fortunate men who didn’t have to work at being hot. Yes, he took fitness seriously, but keeping in shape went with his job.

Well, she didn’t have to worry about Gunner popping in and catching her off guard, or watching women throwing themselves at him anymore, now, did she?

Sighing, Mallory glanced around her new bar with equal parts satisfaction, anxiety and sadness. By working at a breakneck pace since day one, she’d fallen into bed each night too exhausted to allow for second thoughts.

But she had a few lurking in the back of her mind. While her LA customers weren’t really friends, they were her people. She’d known many of the old scoundrels her whole life. And she missed them. Missed the same stupid jokes they’d told a million times, missed the teasing winks and good-natured arguing over darts or cards.

And she’d disappointed all of them. She knew that for a fact, and it hurt. Because all of this was her fault. No, she couldn’t have afforded the new rent, but she hadn’t even shopped around for a new place in the area or explored other options.

Whether or not she adjusted to life in Blackfoot Falls she was here to stay. She’d sunk everything she had into this place.

All because she’d crossed a line that night, a line she could never uncross. And now she wanted Gunner with a burning ache that wouldn’t ease. Her only hope was that time and distance would cure what was seriously ailing her. And if she was really lucky, she’d stop feeling so shitty for not returning his calls.

“Things must be going well if you’ve got time to stand there gathering wool.” Sadie had slipped in without Mallory hearing the door. Which meant Mike must’ve oiled the hinges. The man was a godsend. Sadie frowned. “You poor child. You don’t even know what that means.”

“Yes, I do. I was just...” Mallory sighed. “I don’t know what I was doing. I’m probably in shock. If I pass out can I count on the honor system tonight?”

Sadie chuckled. “Everything looks real nice,” she said, inspecting the room, her gaze lingering on the Full Moon Saloon banner Mallory had put up above the mirrors behind the bar and, right under that, a sign that said No Fighting, or You Will Be Banned. Sadie smiled with approval. She might look like a classic grandma. Inside she was made of pure steel. “I’m glad you brought those oak tables and chairs with you. They match the bar like they were made for each other. I see the jukebox and pool table got here. What about the mechanical bull?”

“No.” Mallory pressed her lips together to stop a curse. Even though she’d heard Sadie cut loose on a cocky young cowboy at the Watering Hole.

“That might not be a bad thing,” Sadie said. “I’m guessing you’ll have all you can handle tonight. Who have you got coming in?”

“Elaine. She’s the only waitress I hired.”

“Oh, honey, my place is half this size and I have three gals. You’ll be plenty busy, I can guarantee you that.”

“My old bar was about the size of the Watering Hole and I worked mostly by myself. Pouring, serving, you name it. But I’m pretty quick.”

Sadie gave her a dry look.

“No offense.”

She just smiled.

Mallory guessed the woman was about the same age as her mom. But Sadie had done more for her in the past three weeks than Mallory’s mother had seen fit to do in the twelve years she’d bothered to stick around.

“Sadie, have I told you how much I appreciate what you—”

“Yes. About a hundred times. Now hush.” Sadie gestured at the floor. “Lord knows how you put a little gleam in that pine but it won’t last long. Have you noticed some of the boots on these cowboys? I had to put down heavy-duty mats.” She snorted. “They wouldn’t stop three seconds to stomp off the dry mud.”

Mallory grinned. “I bet you didn’t let them get away with that.”

“Hell, no. I refused to serve them.”

“Now, I sure hope you’re not talking about me, Mayor Thompson,” Mike said, coming from the back room with a loose stride and an easy smile.

Sadie turned to look at him. “Don’t you Mayor Thompson me, young man. Sorriest decision of my life, running for office. I should’ve let that old windbag Leland keep the damn job.”

“Then where would we be? He would’ve shot down the Hollywood people. You’re helping the town make some money without letting it be overrun.”

“You two might be the only folks who believe that.”

“Lots of people are on your side, Sadie.” Mike unbuckled his tool belt. “It’s the naysayers making all the noise. Nothing new there. I need to grab some lunch. You wanna come, Mallory? I know you haven’t eaten.” He glanced at Sadie. “You, too. I’m buying.”

Mallory pressed a hand to her nervous tummy. “No, thanks.”

Mike looked as if he was about to argue, then reconsidered. “Sadie?”

“No, but I’ll walk you out. I’ve got a meeting in five minutes.” She studied Mallory. “At least let Mike bring something back for you. The day is just gonna get crazier.”

“I know, but I have a hundred new glasses to wash and stack,” she said, ripping open the box sitting in front of her and grinning. “I’ve gathered enough wool for now.”

Sadie laughed. “Then we’ll just get out of your way,” she said and prompted Mike to go ahead of her. As soon as he turned for the door, she glanced back and mouthed, “He’s single.”

And sweet as pie.

So Mallory had heard. From Louise, who owned the fabric and craft store, along with her friend Sylvia. Also from the Lemon sisters, twins in their eighties, who were as cute as could be...when they weren’t arguing.

She pulled out a set of glasses and got another glimpse of Mike before the door closed. He was tall, good-looking and the most easygoing man she’d ever met. He owned a ranch but when times had gotten tough, he’d picked up carpentry jobs to make ends meet. Recently he’d gone back to raising cattle full-time. Yes, she was paying him for the work, but he was doing her a favor.

Mike really was a terrific guy.

He just wasn’t Gunner.


2 (#u7f848c24-9b8e-5eed-b265-26033fff2cca)

AT 6:00 MALLORY opened the heavy wooden doors of the Full Moon Saloon. She was officially open for business and damned if Sadie hadn’t been right. A dozen people were already waiting on the sidewalk.

Mostly cowboys, three of them chatting up guests from the Sundance dude ranch. She didn’t know that for a fact, but the women who tended to stay there were pretty easy to spot.

“Come on in,” she said. “Your first drink is on the house.”

A couple of energetic hoots made her smile as she stepped out of the way. They wasted no time filing inside, so she started for her post behind the bar while checking out the footwear. The men’s boots were clean—some looked new. All except for the short dusty cowboy who ignored the women and went straight for a barstool.

Yep, he would be the one who screwed up her floor.

Elaine was already filling pitchers with beer by the time Mallory got herself stationed by the bowls of garnish. The lemons and limes were cut into wedges. Sadie warned she’d go through the limes quickly. As for the olives and cherries, Mallory stocked only a couple bottles of each.

Although she really hoped she wouldn’t need them. Beer and shots had been the staples at the Renegade. Gin and tonic, rum and Coke, the obvious drinks were no problem. But her knowledge of fancy cocktails was shaky at best.

“Who wants pitchers?” Elaine yelled so loud, Mallory nearly jumped out of her jeans.

Several hands went up.

Mallory had wondered how the waitress had taken orders so fast, not that she minded the casual approach. It was comforting, actually. If she closed her eyes she could’ve been back home. After Elaine loaded her tray, Mallory took over the tap and filled a mug for the guy sitting at the bar.

“Hey, cool name. I love Full Moon Saloon.” A petite blonde walked up and leaned against the bar as she studied the bottles of liquor on the shelves behind Mallory.

She still wasn’t sure about the name. Days after she’d come up with it and tested it on Ben and Sadie, Mallory had recognized the subconscious link to Gunner. To that fateful night. She’d specifically remembered the moon was full because of her desperate attempt to explain her stupid error in judgment. Lots of crazy stuff happened on nights with full moons. Ask any cop.

“Let’s see...” The blonde leaned closer, squinting at the bottles of flavored tequila. “Do you have Jell-O shots?”

Mallory held in a groan.

“Oh, for God’s sake, this is our first night. Give us a break,” Elaine said as she returned to fill more pitchers. “Order a real drink.”

The blonde’s eyes widened.

Mallory had to look away. With her fickle mood, if she started laughing there was no telling when she’d stop. Of course she’d liked the thirtysomething waitress—that’s why she’d hired her. But she liked Elaine twice as much now.

“You must be related to Sadie,” Mallory muttered under her breath while reaching around Elaine for her order ticket.

She grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Yep.”

“Um, excuse me,” the blonde said, and feeling duly ashamed—the woman was a customer, after all—Mallory gave her a smile. “Could you define ‘real drink’?”

Mallory tried not to look at Elaine. She really did. But their eyes met, briefly, and that was all it took. A laugh tickled the bottom of her throat as it forced its way up. For crying out loud, she wasn’t the giddy type. Exhaustion and nerves were to blame.

She had to get a grip. Another dozen or so people had entered the bar. They would never catch up if she didn’t put an end to this foolishness.

“How about a margarita?” Mallory asked the blonde who was looking impatient.

“Frozen?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

Mallory sighed. “Sure,” she said and nodded at the cowboy with the filthy boots, who was motioning for another beer.

For the next two hours, she and Elaine were so slammed they didn’t have time to look at each other, much less speak. Good thing. If Elaine had a moment to think she’d probably quit. And Mallory wouldn’t blame her. Every time the door opened, Mallory cringed. She sure didn’t need any more business tonight. Or any other night until she hired additional help.

Ten minutes and a dozen margaritas later, she took a quick gulp of cold water and straightened her back. She’d been hunched over the blender for most of the evening. Why had she suggested a margarita? Of course it became the popular choice of the night. For the women mostly. Thank God for beer-drinking cowboys.

Using the back of her wrist she pushed the hair off her face. So much for her nice, neat ponytail. She looked up just as the door opened and saw it was Ben and Grace. Awesome. Mallory had no qualms about putting Ben to work until they were caught up. She liked his girlfriend and might’ve hit her up, too, but Grace was the sheriff. Asking her to serve drinks didn’t seem kosher.

Mallory caught their attention and motioned them over. Ben responded with a nod. The smile of relief died on her lips when she saw the dark-haired man directly behind them. Her heart jumped wildly.

Gunner?

Couldn’t be.

Her heart was pounding so hard she could barely breathe. The glass she was holding almost slipped through her trembling fingers before she set it down.

How was this possible? He knew Ben, sure. Probably better than she did. They’d worked together sometimes and occasionally drank at the Renegade. But they were both loners and to call them friends would be a stretch. Or that’s what she’d thought.

Dammit. She didn’t need this, not now. Not ever.

They were making their way through the crowd, lingering here and there, when someone stopped to chat with Ben or Grace. But Gunner, from the second his eyes found hers, hadn’t looked away once. He just kept staring, his mouth curved in a tight smile that lowered her body temperature by ten degrees.

He needed a haircut and he clearly hadn’t shaved in several days. His face looked darker, from weeks in the hot Argentinian sun. Or from anger, maybe.

Goddamn Ben. Why hadn’t he said anything to her?

She pretended to mess with the blender, using it as an excuse to stare down while she struggled for composure.

“Excuse me? May I get some quarters?” It was the same blonde who’d started the run on frozen margaritas. She laid a five on the bar. “For the jukebox.”

Quarters. Mallory dried her unsteady hands. She had a tin of them somewhere. The hell with it. She opened the register and dug out some coins. “Here you go,” she said, stacking them on the five-dollar bill. “Keep your money.”

“Really? Thanks.” The woman scooped them into her palm, then turned and bumped into Gunner. “Oh,” she said, tilting her head back to look up at him. “Hello.”

Without a word, he stepped back to give her more room, his gaze remaining locked on Mallory.

“Go ahead. You can have him, too,” Mallory said, as they played the staring game.

The blonde giggled. Gave a breathless sigh. Did the hair toss. Moistened her lips.

Yep, Gunner Ellison was in the house.

Of course Ben had always received his fair share of female attention, as well. But Grace carried a gun so it probably wasn’t much of a problem in Blackfoot Falls.

After an awkward silence, the woman slipped away. Ben and Grace left a couple who’d stopped them and were headed for the bar.

Tension cramped Mallory’s neck and shoulders, but she refused to break eye contact with Gunner.

Jesus, one of them had to say something.

“What a surprise seeing you here,” she said finally, just as Grace slid onto a barstool at the end of the bar.

“I’m sure it is.” His cool assessment didn’t waver. Oh, he was pissed, all right.

“Hey.” Mallory turned to smile at Grace. And then Ben when he came up behind Grace and put his hands on her shoulders. Even though he was a traitor and they’d have words later. No. He couldn’t have known.

“Wow, you’re busy,” Grace said. “Please. Just ignore us.”

“She will.” Gunner leaned an elbow on the bar and gave her a lazy smile. “Mallory’s good at that.”

“I need drinks over here,” Elaine called out from the tap at the other end, her patience clearly slipping.

“Sorry.” Mallory hurried over, embarrassed to see the waitress busting ass filling mugs and pitchers, and scooping up glasses of ice. Mallory glanced at the first two drink tickets and grabbed bottles of tequila and rum from the shelf.

Dammit, she’d planned to ask for Ben’s help, though she wouldn’t now. Better he keep his guest busy and away from her.

She poured two shots, head bent, letting loose strands of hair hide part of her face before she slid a look down the bar.

Gunner wasn’t there.

Where the hell—?

“Move over.” His rough palm on her arm made her jump. “I’ll get the mixed drinks.”

“No, thanks,” she said, refusing to budge. “We’re fine.”

Elaine turned her awestruck look from Gunner to glare at Mallory. The message was clear—Accept his offer or I’ll kill you in your sleep.

“Fine.” Mallory barely got the word out before he’d put his hands on her hips and moved her over a foot.

He set the drink tickets in a row so he could easily read them, lined up glasses, for both cocktails and shots, dispensed ice cubes in one fluid motion, then went to work pouring and mixing.

As soon as Elaine left with her loaded tray, Mallory took over the tap. She told herself that standing near him was nothing. How many times had he helped her on busy nights at the Renegade? Fifty? Sixty times? Probably more.

Except, back then, they hadn’t had sex yet. She hadn’t known the hot, bone-melting feel of his mouth on hers, or experienced the sweet rough texture of his tongue as he licked a path to her breasts.

And then making her wait. And wait. Her tightened nipple aching so badly she’d thought she would go crazy before he finally sucked it into his mouth.

After that he’d kind of lost it, too, impatiently stripping off her panties then lowering his mouth...

Mallory shifted her weight from one foot to the other. She exchanged a filled mug for an empty one and pressed an ice cube to her throat. “It’s hot in here,” she muttered.

He gave her a faintly mocking smile.

“Shut up, Gunner. I mean it.”

Beer foamed over the mug’s rim and spilled onto her hand. It took two tries for her to shut off the tap. She swallowed a string of curses as she grabbed a clean rag and mopped up.

“Excuse me.” A pretty redhead was looking at Gunner. “What nights will the band play?”

“Ask the boss,” he said, nodding at Mallory.

“I haven’t found one yet, and the stage needs more work. But I’m hoping to have live music soon.”

“Thanks.” The redhead didn’t care. She’d only wanted an excuse to talk to Gunner.

It was a familiar scenario. Women were always drawn to him. Mallory hated that she cared.

“You have dartboards in the back, but I don’t see any darts.” Again, the woman addressed Gunner, then leaned over the bar for a look. “Do you have some back there?”

Mallory doubted she’d find them behind Gunner’s fly.

He kept pouring drinks but glanced at Mallory. “Sweetheart, where are the darts?”

She sucked in a breath. “Right here,” she said, and stooped to open a lower cabinet. He’d never called her that before, and she didn’t know what game he was playing. She straightened and handed over the box of darts. “Sorry about that.”

A look of disappointment on the other woman’s face cheered Mallory, making her twice the fool. If Gunner had intended to mislead the redhead, it was only because he wasn’t interested. Or he had his eye on someone else.

Mallory glanced around the room. Lots of pretty women had turned out, mostly in pairs or groups. And now some of them were starting to line up at the bar to get their drinks directly from Gunner. Great. Just great.

After she filled two pitchers, she walked over to Ben and Grace, who had settled in. They were busy talking to people but she felt bad she hadn’t even offered them a drink.

She waited for a break in the conversation and asked, “What can I get you guys?”

“Don’t worry about us,” Grace said, at the same time Ben said, “Beer.”

Grace leaned back and gave him a look.

“Hey, I was going to offer to help,” he said. “But it’s too crowded back there. At least Gunner seems to know what he’s doing.”

Mallory hesitated. “I can’t believe you didn’t tell me he was coming.”

“He wanted to surprise you.”

“Ah.” She knew what kind of beer Ben drank and got a bottle from the fridge. “Grace? Beer? Wine? I have both red and white, but they’re just okay.”

“Beer’s fine,” Grace said, and grabbed Ben’s bottle before he could.

He just grinned and stole a kiss.

Mallory couldn’t help smiling. They were the most adorable couple. Ben had changed. She didn’t know whether it was because of Grace or Blackfoot Falls, or maybe it was a combination of the two, but he seemed more relaxed, certainly happier.

Something made her turn her head. Gunner was watching her. She lost the sappy smile and got a second beer from the fridge. Before she twisted off the cap she said, “Grace, maybe you’d like Gunner to make you a mai tai?”

“A what?”

“Or some fancy blended drink.”

Ben laughed and took the bottle from Mallory. “Don’t piss off the help, especially when it’s free labor.”

Grace just smiled and gave her a curious look.

Mallory winced. She’d have to watch her tone. “Well, I’d better get back to work.”

Elaine was garnishing the drinks Gunner had made and grinning at something he said. Mallory spotted two tickets with beer orders and she slid in to man the tap.

“I can deliver these pitchers if you tell me which tables,” she told Elaine, who’d been moving nonstop.

“Nah, I should be back by the time you’re finished.” She hefted the loaded tray and nodded toward the stage. “The mug is for Mike. I’m pretty sure he’d rather you take it to him,” she said with a mischievous smile before heading for the back room.

Mallory sighed. What was it with Elaine and Sadie? Why were they trying to fix her up with him?

“Who’s Mike?”

She looked at Gunner. For a few wonderful, blessed moments, she’d forgotten he was there. “A guy who did some carpentry work for me.” Gunner turned his head and she saw that his hair was touching the collar of his blue polo shirt. He never let it go like that, not even when he was away working for long periods of time. But damn he looked good.

“The guy sitting alone to the left of the stage?” he asked, turning back to stare at her.

“What?”

“Is that Mike?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t looked for him. What do you care, anyway?” She noticed a couple sitting near Ben trying impatiently to get her attention. Damn. Her grand opening and she was going to chase everyone away.

She felt Gunner watching her as she went to get refills. Those mesmerizing gray eyes still got to her every time. When she’d first met him when she was sixteen, she hadn’t been that into boys yet, but she remembered thinking he was the hottest guy she’d ever seen. He’d been twenty-one at the time so of course he’d barely noticed her.

For weeks he’d come to the bar almost every day. Then he’d disappear for a month. She’d known it was partly his job that kept him away. But when a year had gone by without him making a single appearance, she’d figured that was it...she’d never see him again. And then out of the blue Gunner had started showing up, three or four times a week when he wasn’t away on location.

By then she’d turned twenty-one and was working full-time at the Renegade. A year later her dad had died unexpectedly. An aneurism, the doctor had said. No apparent cause. Mallory had figured all the hard living had caught up to him. Bitter that his stunt career had been cut short, he’d drank a lot, smoked anything that was rolled and screwed any woman who’d let him. He wasn’t so different from a lot of the stunt guys who’d helped keep the Renegade in business.

Of course many just had one or two drinks then left to go home to their wives. Gunner fell somewhere in the middle. He’d done some hell-raising in his twenties but not lately. And while he could drink with the best of them, only twice had she seen him truly drunk.

Mallory slipped past him to get to the tap, and thankfully, Elaine returned at the same time. Questions burned in Gunner’s eyes, but no way would Mallory deal with them now. Or ever, if she had her say.

“You didn’t take Mike his beer,” Elaine said, and then briefly eyed Gunner as if she’d just realized he might be the reason. “Never mind. I’ll go.”

Mallory watched her pick up the mug. She should’ve just taken it to Mike and thanked him for coming to the opening. But she couldn’t do it in front of Gunner. It was stupid. But somehow she knew she’d fumble.

She felt those stormy gray eyes on her again. She turned and met them full-on. “What?”

He gave a slight shrug before looking to see if Elaine had left a ticket. She hadn’t. It was the first lull of the night. He picked up a dry bar rag and wiped his hands.

“You need a haircut.”

“I was too busy leaving voice mails.”

Drawing in a deep breath, she avoided his gaze by checking the bowl of lime wedges. They still had a lot. She looked up and saw Mike lifting a hand. She smiled back at him.

Two tables to his left, she noticed a young woman who’d applied for the waitress job. Mallory couldn’t recall her name, but Elaine would know. If the woman was willing, Mallory would hire her on the spot.

Either way, there was no need for Gunner to stay.

She was about to tell him so when she felt pressure around her waist.

It was Gunner.

Behind her. His hands sliding down to cup her hips.

“Excuse me, sweetheart,” he said, trying, though not very hard, to move her to the right. “I need to get more glasses.”

Without making a fuss, she managed to push his hands away. “Touch me again and I’ll—” Okay, that might’ve been too loud. She clamped her lips together.

“What? Hmm, Mallory?” he whispered with a half smile. “What are you going to do? Move to Alaska?”


3 (#u7f848c24-9b8e-5eed-b265-26033fff2cca)

GUNNER KNEW HE shouldn’t have come tonight. It was a dick move. Yeah, he was still pissed at Mallory. But he didn’t want to screw things up for her. She probably already had first-night jitters.

“Excuse me,” she said through gritted teeth and forced him back a step at the risk of losing his toes.

Those were some heels on her black boots. They looked new. And kind of sexy. Normally she wore a low-heeled tan pair that were pretty beat-up. And the clingy red top and tight black jeans? He’d never seen them before. At the Renegade she’d worn nothing but T-shirts and faded denim. And sometimes a flannel shirt in the winter.

The guys sitting at the bar all watched her walk to the other end, their gazes lingering on her ass before taking in her long legs. It annoyed the shit out of him.

On second thought, why should he worry about making her nervous? She’d done this to herself. All she’d had to do was return just one damn call. They could’ve talked, got everything out in the open. Not that he thought there was anything to hash out. The world hadn’t ended just because they’d had sex.

And he sure as hell didn’t remember holding a gun to her head. Mallory hadn’t held back. Sure, the booze played a part, but they hadn’t drank that much. He’d done a lot of thinking on the drive to Montana. Mallory had downed three quick shots in a row, but the tequila hadn’t had time to kick in before they’d started kissing.

Okay, maybe she’d needed the liquid courage. If so, it sure had worked. She’d moaned so loud when she came he was surprised she hadn’t set off the neighborhood dogs.

Gunner watched her lean over the bar and gesture to something in the back. With her bent at that angle, the guys were more interested in looking down her V-neck top than what she was pointing at.

He had to turn away. His insides were churning and he didn’t trust himself to stay cool. If he caused a commotion, she’d never forgive him.

With more elbow grease than was necessary, he finished cleaning up his mess and let the sink fill with hot sudsy water while he poured himself a beer. Damn, he wanted something stronger. That would have to wait. After she closed, maybe they could sit down like two adults and figure this thing out.

“We have a dishwasher,” Elaine said, setting down her tray and watching him lower glasses into the steaming sink.

“It’s too small for this crowd. It’ll be okay for normal nights.”

“Obviously you’re a friend of Mallory’s,” the petite brunette said. “I’m guessing you’re from LA, but you’re not a bartender.”

“You got customers complaining about the drinks?”

“I should’ve said you don’t look like one.” Her gaze roamed his shoulders, his chest, then down to his boots. “With that tan, you must spend a lot of time outdoors. And you sure didn’t get those arms from pouring whiskey. You could be a cowboy, I suppose, but I don’t think so.” She met his eyes and laughed. “Honey, I’ve got a husband and two teenagers. I took this job to get away from them, but I still love all three of ’em to death. So don’t you worry, I’m just nosy.”

Gunner dried his hands and took another pull of his beer. “There’s a tanning salon at the gym where I work out.”

Elaine’s frown eased to a grin. “You’re just piling it on, aren’t you?”

He glanced over to see what was keeping Mallory. “Now, why would I do that?”

“Wait. You came in with Ben, so I’ll bet you’re a stuntman out there in California.”

“That’s one possibility.”

“Although...” Elaine squinted at him as if the right guess came with a thousand-dollar prize. “It sounds like you got a trace of Texas in your voice.”

Bullshit.

Gunner plunged his hands into the sudsy water—the very hot sudsy water—and bit back a curse. Hell, he’d left home at fifteen and wanted nothing to do with Texas. The dirty stinking town where he grew up was only half the size of Blackfoot Falls. So if your mom was the town tramp, everybody knew it.

A customer called for Elaine and she picked up her tray. “You’d better be nice to me,” she said, grinning. “I’m the only person standing between you and your fan club over there.”

He didn’t have to look to know which table she meant. The three women were from San Diego and staying at the Sundance Ranch. They’d been driving him nuts. He didn’t go for the hair-twirling, lip-licking crap.

That was one great thing about Mallory. She didn’t play games or work at being sexy. Of course with those big green eyes, generous mouth and killer body she didn’t have to do anything.

So why the new clothes? She had no business looking hot as hell. Was this her turning over a new leaf? Making a fresh start? Had she been trying to get away from him? All she’d had to do was tell him to get lost.

One of the Sundance women had a thing for Blake Shelton, and had “Honey Bee” on repeat. Once he got the glasses washed he was gonna unplug that damn jukebox.

“It seems we’ve died down a bit.” Mallory’s voice startled him. “There’s no reason for you to stick around. Go be with Ben and Grace.”

He drained his beer and looked at her. She was close. A couple feet away, her eyes full of uncertainty. “You look nice.”

“Thanks.” Her gaze flickered and lowered. “So do you.”

“We have to talk.”

“Please, Gunner. Not here. Please.”

“You don’t return my calls.”

“I know. But I was busy getting moved out of the Renegade and then—” She shook her head, looked away. “You’re right. I have no excuse. I should’ve talked to you.”

“Damn right you should have.” He was getting worked up again, seeing her hang her head like a whipped dog. Looking as if he’d treated her badly. She was in the wrong, not him.

“Pardon me, but could I get another rum and Coke?”

Gunner recognized the husky voice before he glanced at the flirty redhead. “Just a minute,” he said and turned back to Mallory.

She stared back at him for a second and then rolled her eyes. “Is that with a lime?” she asked the woman and grabbed the rum.

“Yes, lime, a wedge on the rim and another squeezed in the drink. And no offense, but I really like the way he makes it.”

Mallory darted him a look, the expression on her face not one he’d seen before. When she finally smiled, it didn’t fool him. She seemed sad, and he didn’t understand why.

To get rid of the redhead, he stepped in and made her drink. Mallory turned and before she could walk away, he said, “Hey, don’t run off.”

She just glanced at him as she bent to check the dishwasher. He slid the rum and Coke toward the woman and went to Mallory. He almost reached for her hand, but thought better of it. Part of him wanted to comfort her, the other part was having trouble controlling his temper.

“Why?” he asked, careful to keep his voice low. “Just tell me why.”

“Gunner...” Her head down, she opened the dishwasher. Steam poured out. He caught her arm to pull her away just as she jerked back.

“Are you okay?”

She nodded. “I thought the heat cycle was finished.”

“Let me see,” he said, brushing the hair away from her face.

“I’m fine.” The warning tone in her voice was enough. She didn’t have to flinch from his touch.

Anger flared inside him, and then simmered to concern when he noticed the red blotch. “You have a small burn,” he said, nodding at her chin.

Her hand shot to her cheek.

“Closer to your—” Screw it. He directed her unsteady fingers to the spot. “Where’s the first-aid kit?” The one she’d kept at the Renegade had been put to good use.

“I don’t know. I’m still unpacking stuff.”

“I saw a store on the way here. I’ll go—”

Mallory shook her head. “Everything is closed by now.” She probed around the reddened skin. “It doesn’t feel bad. I’ll be okay.” Turning toward Ben and Grace, she gave them a self-conscious smile. Then she looked at Gunner again and the soft expression in her eyes told him right then and there he’d done the right thing by coming to Montana. “You didn’t tell them, did you?”

“Tell them?” His confusion took a second to clear. “Christ, give me some credit.” Shaking his head, he picked up the pile of tip money people had left him and stuffed it in Elaine’s jar on the back shelf.

“Where are you going?” Mallory almost sounded like she cared.

He knew better. “To find a friendlier bar,” he said, and almost plowed into Elaine as he headed for the door.

* * *

GUNNER HAD JUST finished his first shot of tequila when Ben entered the Watering Hole. Figured he hadn’t been far behind. The place was dead except for a pair of pool players in the back and a table of old-timers laughing at each other’s lame jokes. He wished they’d keep it down.

“Hey, Nikki,” Ben said as he took the barstool next to Gunner.

The pretty, dark-haired bartender stopped restocking the fridge and turned. “Hey yourself,” she said. “What can I get you?”

Gunner pushed his empty shot glass toward her.

“Beer for me,” Ben said, and inclined his head at Gunner. “He’s buying.”

“Sure.” Gunner snorted. “Why not? In fact, pour something for yourself, darlin’, and put it on my tab.”

Nikki glanced at him, smiled at Ben, then got his beer and Gunner’s shot.

“You might as well leave the bottle,” Gunner said when she turned to put the tequila back on the shelf.

“Nope. I don’t do that.” She leaned a hip against the back bar. “How’s Mallory holding up?”

Gunner grunted and tossed back the liquor. He felt Ben staring at him. Of course he was going to have questions. And Gunner had no idea what to tell him.

“She’s doing all right, considering she should’ve had two more waitresses working,” Ben said. “Gunner was helping make drinks until a few minutes ago.”

The bartender gave him a curious look. “I’m Nikki McAllister,” she said, leaning forward and shaking hands with him.

“Gunner.” He saw a gold wedding band on her finger.

Not that he was interested. A few months ago...yeah, he might’ve been looking to hook up. But things had shifted for him around Christmas...about the time something had changed between him and Mallory.

He couldn’t say what exactly, or why he’d suddenly noticed how her smile lit up a room. Even her laugh sounded different now. And there was something about the way she looked at him. It gave him the weirdest feeling inside...

Shit.

It was for the best she’d moved away. He didn’t need this grief. He’d liked his life just the way it was before. Thirty-two was too young for a midlife crisis. He’d find a new bar, or just follow the rest of the gang. Guaranteed they’d already adopted some dive that served cheap drinks.

Was that what he really wanted? Nothing felt right. He wasn’t into the job anymore. It had gotten so that he hated traveling.

He’d been staring at his empty shot glass for a while. When he looked up, Nikki wasn’t behind the bar. And Ben had actually shifted on his stool to face him.

“What the hell is going on with you?” Ben asked. “You’ve been distracted and edgy since you got here.”

Gunner sighed. He’d met Ben while they were filming in Mexico years ago. They’d become casual friends. Or at least they’d built enough trust between them to watch each other’s backs. “Just tired. Argentina was a bitch even before we fell behind schedule.”

“Yeah, I always hated those long stretches. Ranching has been an adjustment. Hell, I’m up well before dawn every morning. But I don’t miss it.”

Gunner leaned back to ease the kink from two days of hard driving. “I wondered if you had any regrets.”

“Nope.” Ben shook his head. “They’ve been filming around Glacier National Park and south along the Rockies. I picked up some work after I first bought the ranch. I had to sink a bundle into repairs and stock, so it made sense to bring in a little cash and keep my union benefits. But I’ve decided I’m done with stunt work,” he said, shrugging. “You know, I’ve got Grace now. I don’t like being away from her.”

Gunner never thought he’d hear those words come out of Ben Wolf’s mouth. Not that long ago Ben had had quite a reputation for going through women like he went through booze, fancy cars and speeding tickets.

“You still have a driver’s license?” Gunner asked.

“Yeah,” Ben said with a grin. “You?”

“Yep. How’s your record here? Any tickets yet?”

“How do you think I met Grace?”

Right. She was the sheriff. “She wrote you up? You couldn’t sweet-talk her out of it?”

Ben didn’t answer. Just smiled and lifted his mug.

Letting out a laugh, Gunner clapped him on the back. “Dude, you got it bad.”

Ben eyed him with raised brows.

Gunner was pretty sure he knew what was coming next. Couldn’t say he hadn’t asked for it. Though he didn’t think he’d been too obvious with Mallory.

Glancing around, he searched for Nikki, who was probably in the back. The tequila shots hadn’t done a damn thing for him. Which was just as well. Unless he wanted to end up sleeping it off in his truck, he needed to pay up and get out of here.

Ben nodded at the empty shot glass. “Might want to ease up since we drove separately.”

“Sure, Dad.”

“Suit yourself. But if you get stopped by a deputy, don’t expect Grace to cut you a break.” Ben pushed his unfinished beer away and stood. “Tomorrow I’ll show you around the Silver Spur. The place still needs work and I might’ve gotten ahead of myself drumming up business.” He turned to go but then paused. “We leave the kitchen door unlocked. You remember how to get back?”

Gunner nodded.

“Drive carefully,” he said as he headed for the door. “Lots of deer are on the roads after dark.”

Drive carefully.

Yep, Ben had changed.

Gunner tried to remember how long it had been since Ben had left Hollywood. Over a year for sure, but not all that long considering how well he’d settled into his quiet new life.

Like Ben had said, part of it was Grace. Gunner had hauled ass from California to make it in time for Mallory’s opening night. So he’d only met Grace an hour before the three of them had come to town. But he’d liked her right off. She seemed to be straightforward, had a good sense of humor and a street-smart air about her. And she was pretty.

Come to think of it, she reminded him of Mallory.

So if Ben and Grace could make a go of it...

There was a big difference. Ben and Grace didn’t share any history. The only things she knew about Ben was what he’d told her. Mallory knew everything about Gunner, warts and all as the saying went. And he had some pretty damn ugly warts in his past.


4 (#u7f848c24-9b8e-5eed-b265-26033fff2cca)

MALLORY KICKED AN empty box to the side and studied the stack she hadn’t opened yet. Most of them were marked by room, but where the rest belonged was anyone’s guess. At least she had plenty of space in the two-bedroom rental. Yes, she supposed it was small by most standards, but to her it was a palace. She’d never lived in a house before.

Not only that but the rent was crazy cheap. Way lower than she’d been prepared to pay. And talk about convenient...she was just off Main, an eight-minute walk from the bar. Six, if she was in a hurry.

Gunner wasn’t going to believe—

She stopped the thought cold.

Things were different now. She wouldn’t be telling Gunner about every stupid little thing that happened in her day. In her life. When had they started doing that anyway? Hanging out at the Renegade on slow nights, huddled at the end of the bar, just the two of them, talking about nothing? Sometimes, shooting pool in the back and making crazy bets. Or calling each other at odd times just to let off steam?

She’d never had a real friend before Gunner. Not even in high school because the girls her age had only wanted to talk about boys and clothes. Although it was just in the past two years that she and Gunner had started to test the waters, throwing out tidbits of personal stuff. Nothing big, but she was going to miss all of that.

She was going to miss him.

Dammit.

Why had he shown up here? Seeing him last night was like ripping off a scab before the wound had healed. Of course she was to blame. She should’ve answered his calls. Pretended the best she could that nothing had changed. Then done the only thing that had a chance of solving her problem...moving as far away from him as possible. With the expired lease and ridiculous rent hike she’d had the perfect excuse to relocate.

Instead she’d shut him out and ran. Out of fear. Out of embarrassment. But most of all, she’d fled for self-preservation. None of it mattered now. She would have to face him and explain why she’d behaved like the silly school girls she hadn’t wanted as friends.

Well, no, not exactly. Mallory knew an explanation was unavoidable, but she was perfectly willing to play fast and loose with the truth. She’d have to be an utter moron to admit that she’d gone and done the stupidest thing ever.

She’d developed feelings for Gunner.

Her friend.

The guy who would hotfoot it all the way to the moon rather than be tied down to any one woman. Let alone her. Someone he expected to know better than to mistake sex for anything but sex.

And if that wasn’t enough to make her want to disappear from the face of the earth, jealousy had her by the throat. Her. She was supposed to be immune to that sort of pettiness.

Oh, she’d guessed after that night she might have a problem with the way women threw themselves at him. It was another reason she’d run. But watching how women had reacted to him last night was so much worse than she’d imagined.

She drew in a deep breath and glanced around. She had a lot to do. Her new living room was narrow but clean and rustic, and she loved having a fireplace. She didn’t even mind that it took up a third of the brick wall. But it was the wraparound porch with a perfect view of the Rockies that had stolen her heart. The owners had even left a swing and a wooden rocking chair. If she didn’t have so much unpacking to do, she’d be out there right now, lounging on the swing and sipping an iced tea.

Boy, that was a hard image to picture. Much too homey and so not her.

She would never let Gunner see the place. For sure he’d think she’d lost it. The possibility wasn’t too far out there. What else would explain her decision to start moving in now? She was paid up at The Boarding House Inn for two more days and she was still wiped out from last night. If she believed Sadie, and it seemed the woman was never wrong, the Full Moon would be packed tonight again.

Luckily, Mallory had a woman wanting part-time work coming in later to talk to her. Elaine had vouched for her. It would simply be a matter of agreeing on schedules.

She ripped the tape off a box and then heard her phone. It wasn’t in her pocket. She listened, thought the ring might be coming from the kitchen. By the time she found her cell under a pile of newspapers, the caller had been sent to voice mail. But she recognized Dexter’s number and saw that he’d also called forty minutes ago.

Mallory listened carefully to his awkward message and sighed. She disconnected and looked at the time. If she’d understood correctly, he’d be delivering the bull in about ten minutes.

Great. She had no one to help her unload and set up. Damn, she couldn’t even call Ben now that Gunner was staying at the Silver Spur. Hopefully, Dexter was bringing someone with him.

She made it to the bar just as a pair of brawny cowboys climbed out of an old blue truck parked at the curb.

“Mornin’,” the taller man said, touching the brim of his hat. “We heard you might need some help?”

“Yes, but how would— Sadie?”

He grinned and nodded. “I’m Brady. This here is Tom.”

“Pleased to meet you, ma’am,” Tom said and yanked off his cowboy hat, revealing a buzz cut.

“I’m Mallory.” She stepped forward and shook their hands. Both men were about her age, she guessed, and looked nice and strong. “I appreciate this so much. Of course I’ll pay you for—”

“No, ma’am. We volunteered.” Tom seemed offended.

“It’s our day off.” Brady lifted his hat and swept back his longish blond hair before resettling the hat on his head. He was kind of cute. Great smile. And he seemed familiar. “We’re on our own time and just wanna help.”

“Oh, well...” She studied him more closely. “You were here at the opening last night. Sitting near the jukebox...” She took a guess. “Both of you...”

They nodded, clearly pleased she remembered them. “We’re real glad you opened the place,” Brady said. “The Watering Hole is okay but it gets old.”

The sound of a sputtering engine had her glancing over her shoulder. “I think this might be Dexter,” she said, shading her eyes and watching the ancient pickup slow down. “Look, guys, if you won’t let me pay you then I’m giving you free drinks for a week. Sound fair?”

“No need—” Brady protested.

“Good. It’s settled.” She dug a key out of her jeans pocket and unlocked the door to the bar.

The bull was a monstrosity. It sat in the bed of the truck covered by a white tarp. After a word with Dexter, she hurried inside to clear a path to the back room. Brady followed behind her, picking up the solid oak tables as if they weighed nothing.

Tom joined them and the two men scoped out the spot for the bull and strategized the best way to bring it inside. They didn’t ask for her opinion, in fact they mostly ignored her. And as they maneuvered the bull through the double doors and she tried to help, she was politely ordered to stay out of the way.

Mallory wasn’t used to being dismissed. Nor had she ever been comfortable with depending on anyone, much less strangers, to do things for her. She’d always hated asking for help, even as a kid. Luckily she was generally self-sufficient.

Moving back to give them a wide path into the back room, she told herself this was a different culture out here. They hadn’t really dismissed her. But it was still hard not to jump into the mix as she watched these young husky guys labor under the weight of the bull. Surely it would be better with three people...

Tom momentarily lost his footing, and she stepped forward.

“Don’t do it, Mallory.”

At the sound of Gunner’s voice, she started to turn around. But his hands cupped her shoulders and he drew her several steps backward, until she came up against his chest.

She jerked free and glared at him. “Don’t do what?”

“Get in their way,” he said, his gaze trained on the men. “You’re liable to get someone hurt.”

Even though they were no longer touching, she could feel the tension in his body. Nothing showed in his face as he sidestepped her and whipped off his black Stetson. Her favorite.

“Hey, guys, let me give you a hand.” He pressed the hat to her and she hugged it to her chest.

“We got it,” Brady said, but they were obviously struggling.

Gunner grabbed hold and they managed to carry the bull to the padding she’d had installed in the wood floor. She fought the urge to point out the bull belonged in the reinforced center, afraid they might tear the padding. She figured Gunner had already noticed and would make allowances.

“Ready to set her down?” Gunner asked.

“Ready,” Tom said.

Brady didn’t answer.

“Let’s try to avoid the padded area,” Gunner said mildly. “Now, on the count of three. One...two...three.”

The bull landed dead center.

Sighing with relief, she loosened her death grip on his hat.

Tom stumbled back a step, and then let out a winded laugh. “The sucker is heavy.” He nodded at Gunner. “Thanks.”

“We were doing just fine,” Brady said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. “You didn’t need to jump in.”

Tom shook his head. “I’m shorter than you so I was having trouble with the angle.”

“It’s done. That’s what’s important, right?” Gunner clapped Brady on the back. “Now, what can I get you boys? How about a nice cold beer?”

Mallory saw the startled look that passed between the two cowboys, and she wanted to give Gunner a swift kick in his rear. He had no business acting like he owned her and the bar.

“Sure,” she said with a bright smile. “Help yourselves to whatever you want while I go pay Dexter.” She paused. “I’m sorry for not introducing you to Gunner.” She widened her smile and tossed him his hat. “My cousin is visiting for a little while.”

“Oh.” Brady grinned and shook his hand. “I saw you last night. You just get in yesterday?”

Gunner started to laugh, a loud belly laugh that followed her out to the sidewalk. He wanted to talk? Oh yeah, they were going to have a conversation all right. The second she saw Dexter leaning against his truck, hands stuffed in his baggy overalls, his eyelids drooping under a battered straw hat, she remembered something.

He straightened when he saw her, his mouth lifting in a gap-toothed grin. “They get Fanny in there okay?”

“Yes, they did.” She passed him the envelope. “Cash. Just like you wanted.”

“Well, I reckon I don’t need to count it, do I?”

“I’m pretty good at math. It’s all there.” She smiled. “Now, how about that demo?”

Frowning, he pushed up the rim of his hat. “What’s that?”

“You know, show me how to work it.”

“Oh, good thing you said something.” He opened the driver’s door and brought out a short stack of papers, the top right corners curled up from what looked like a dried coffee stain. She hoped. Chewing tobacco seemed to be a favorite pastime with some of the men around town. It was gross.

“This here is the manual,” Dexter said, holding the papers out to her. “Tells you everything you need to know.”

Oh, God, there were a lot more stains. She forced herself to accept it. “Thank you,” she said. “This will help. But I’d really like you to show me—”

“You mean get up there and ride Fanny?” He snorted a laugh. “Nooo. That’s not gonna happen. I don’t recall agreeing to anything of the kind.”

Mallory rubbed her right temple. Yes, he most certainly had agreed, in fact he’d offered.

“Tell you what... I’ll stick around until you get her plugged in and working.” He closed the door. “Help ease your mind some.”

“Thank you,” she said and led him into the Full Moon.

A bark of laughter greeted them. As they neared the back room, she heard the whir of a motor and a fair amount of squeaking. Something sure needed to be oiled.

Of course it was Gunner sitting on top of the bull, holding on with one hand while it bucked and whirled. Brady watched from the sidelines drinking from a longneck, while Tom had the controls that tempered the speed and buck of the bull. Both cowboys were grinning like kids.

“Can’t that thing go faster?” Brady asked, nudging Tom with an elbow to the ribs.

“You’re welcome to get up here and see for yourself,” Gunner said, his black T-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders.

Mallory stared at his chest and stomach. He wasn’t moving much, just holding on to the short leather strap, his other hand in the air for balance. But her gaze was caught by the way the muscles in his arms and thighs rippled with even the tiniest movement.

Brady set down his beer. “I’ve ridden my share of ornery broncs,” he said, and flexed his shoulders and arms. “I can handle a piece of machinery.”

“Better you get thrown now than in front of those gals from the Sundance,” Tom said, chuckling.

“Well, heck, he makes it look too dang easy.” Watching Gunner, Dexter removed his straw hat and scratched his head.

Mallory waved to get Gunner’s attention. “Would you please turn that off for a minute?”

He nodded at Tom, and with a fluid grace that always made her breath catch, Gunner landed on his feet.

She made a quick introduction. “Can you think of anything we need to ask Dexter before he leaves?”

Gunner turned to eye the bull, showing no reaction to the error she’d made by using we. “I would’ve thought you’d have oiled that thing up before bringing it.”

“Well, son, I surely did just that.” Dexter sounded defensive.

“Okay. I believe you.” Gunner nodded. “But that tells me we’ve got a problem. Whatever is causing the squeaking is gonna need more work than a simple servicing.”

Mallory hadn’t thought of that.

Dexter’s face turned red. “I reckon you got a point.”

“I take care of all the trucks and equipment at the Bar T,” Brady said. “Can’t promise I’ll know what’s wrong but I can have a look if you want.”

He’d addressed Gunner, not Mallory, which irked her to no end. Aware she was partly to blame, she kept her cool and just listened to the men discuss what needed to be done. She liked to think she was independent, perfectly capable of running her own business, and mostly she did a good job. But for the past year she’d relied on Gunner for so many little things.

Once he’d given her a ride when her car was in the shop. Another time she’d asked his advice on whether or not to add a second pool table at the Renegade. Just minor things, but she couldn’t deny she’d established a pattern.

She realized she’d blanked out of the conversation when she saw Gunner and Dexter shake hands. The older man gave her a polite nod and left.

“I assume that’s okay with you,” Gunner said, the amusement in his eyes making it clear he knew she’d zoned out.

“Of course, or I would’ve said something.” She turned to Brady. “Will you have time to look at it soon? I’ll pay you whatever you think is fair.”

The look Brady and Tom exchanged told her that was the part she’d missed.

Gunner turned to the two men. “You guys can take off. I’ve got it from here.”

Brady frowned. “Sadie thought you might need some help moving into your new place,” he said to Mallory. “Tom and I planned on giving you a hand.”

“That’s really nice.” Mallory was genuinely touched and sorely tempted to accept their offer. Giving them each a smile, she shook her head. “I wouldn’t feel right ruining your day off. You still get free drinks, though, so don’t forget,” she said and started herding them toward the door.

Brady seemed hesitant, glancing at Gunner, who hadn’t moved. “It’s really no trouble.”

“Well, come on.” She motioned for Gunner. “I’m locking up.”

“Good.” He folded his arms across his chest. “We need to talk.”


5 (#u7f848c24-9b8e-5eed-b265-26033fff2cca)

GUNNER WOULDN’T HAVE been shocked if Mallory had run like hell once she got to the door and let the two men out. When she turned to him, the fear and dread he saw in her face twisted him up inside. This wasn’t like her, running from a problem, not tackling it head-on.

“You want anything?” she asked as she slipped behind the bar and brought out a glass.

He used silence to get her to look up. “An explanation would be nice.”

She blinked and focused on fixing herself a soda water with lime. “I was wrong for not returning your calls. I’m sorry.”

Gunner waited, taking in the shadows under her eyes. She hadn’t been sleeping well. Tough. Neither had he. “That’s it?”

“I’ve been busy with the move.”

“Ah, of course. I hadn’t thought of that.”

“Really?” Her chin came up. “Sarcasm?”

“Hey, whatever it takes to get you to open up.” He held her gaze, watching the fire flash and die in her eyes. It was hard to watch this strong, fierce woman look away in defeat. Maybe he needed to let this go. For both their sakes. “You put me through hell the past five weeks. I want to know why.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she said, her expression sad. “I thought the separation might do us some good—”

“Why?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I think you know why.”

“We had sex, Mallory. Lots of friends do. It didn’t mean anything.” Gunner thought he saw her flinch. He could’ve phrased that better. “Okay, maybe it was stupid. You were worried about losing the Renegade. I was worried about you... We were both a little drunk. Are we going to let a brief lapse in judgment ruin our friendship?”

She stared down at her soda. “Well, we can’t very well undo it, can we?”

“No, but we can move past—” A sickening thought occurred to him, one he hadn’t considered before now. “Do you think I took advantage of you?”

Her eyes widened. “No.”

“I didn’t think you were that drunk.”

“I wasn’t... I—” She sighed. “That never even crossed my mind. Jesus. It goes both ways. Do you think I took advantage of you?”

Gunner chuckled. “Yeah, and I hated every minute of it.”

She didn’t crack a smile. Just muttered a curse when she spilled some soda.

“We can’t fix this if you won’t talk to me,” he said, watching her scrub the bar as if her life depended on stripping off the varnish.

“Talk? You’d rather go to the ER.”

Not completely true. He’d told her a few things he hadn’t admitted to anyone else. “This is different,” he said, and she finally looked at him again. “Our friendship is on the line.”

A slight smile lifted the corners of her lips. “I live here now. You’ll find another bar in Valencia or Hollywood. This thing between us—this friendship—is bound to fizzle out. You know that as well as I do.”

Gunner felt as if she’d stuck a knife in his chest. Guess he sucked at being a friend because that’s not how he saw it. “Yep. You’re right.” He glanced at his watch. He was supposed to meet Ben in two hours.

“I was embarrassed,” Mallory said softly. “That’s why I stopped returning your calls.” She’d quit attacking the varnish but she still had trouble meeting his eyes.

“Embarrassed? With me?”

“Yes you,” she said, slowly shaking her head. “Especially you. Of all the guys I could’ve...” Pressing her lips together, she looked away.

“Go on,” Gunner said. “Could’ve what?”

“Messed up with.”

He didn’t get it. “Look, if you’re waiting for me to say I regret what happened, you can forget it. We had sex...pretty damn great sex as I recall.” He watched her nibble her lower lip and his body tensed. “The truth is, I wanted you,” he said. “I still want you.”

Mallory’s mouth opened and closed without her making a sound. She just stared at him, and damned if he could tell what she was thinking.

“But if you feel sex and friendship can’t mix, then...” He cleared his throat. “We’ll stay friends, while I lick my wounds in private.”

She smiled.

“I’m glad my suffering can bring you some amusement.”

“Ah. Poor Gunner.” She dropped the towel on the bar and walked around to join him.

His heart started pounding...until she strolled right past him. He turned to see where she was going and noticed a guy peering in the window and pointing to the door. Mallory opened it just enough to tell him to come back at six.

Seeing her in her old jeans with the tear just above her right knee filled Gunner with an odd sort of relief. “No daytime hours?”

“Not for now. Maybe later, but only on weekends. I’ll check with Sadie to see what she thinks. She used to open at four before she became mayor.”

Just as Mallory was about to slip behind the bar, he caught her arm.

She stared at his hand, then into his eyes.

“Friends, right?”

“Yes.” She nodded warily. “Friends.”

“With or without sex?”

She just sighed and looked at him as if he had the attention span of a five-year-old.

Gunner smiled. “Okay,” he said, releasing her arm and offering his hand. “No sex.”

Her suspicious look might’ve been insulting if it hadn’t been warranted. The second she grasped his hand he tugged her into his arms. He felt her stiffen when he brushed a kiss across her mouth. A second later she relaxed and moved her hands to his shoulders, then slid her fingers into his hair.

She felt so good against him, warm and soft and real. He’d imagined this every night he’d been stuck in Argentina. Every night except one. After the sixth day of unreturned calls, he’d gotten stinking drunk and blotted out the world. And paid for it the next day.

Mallory stirred in his arms and parted her lips. Their tongues touched. A soft helpless moan came from the back of her throat, lighting a fire in his belly that tested his self-control.

Mallory moved against him. All her sweet womanly curves hit him in all the right places. If he got any harder he was going to explode.

A firm shove to the chest sent him back a step. He lowered his arms to his side and met her dark green eyes.

“What’s wrong with you?” She glared back. “We just agreed to be friends, no sex.”

“Kissing isn’t sex.”

She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling. Gunner tried not to stare. Or think about the velvety texture of her skin. Or how sweet she’d tasted.

God, he wanted her.

“Mallory...”

“Don’t say another word.” She patted her pockets, glanced around until she found her keys behind the bar. “You need to leave. I have things to do.”

“I can help you move.”

“No.” She rushed past him and unlocked the door. “Thank you.”

Trust him to ruin things. He grabbed his Stetson off the bar and set it on his head. “Have I totally screwed up?”

With a warning glare, she held the door open. “No. But you probably should leave before you do.”

“Copy that,” he said, and walked out without looking back.

* * *

GUNNER HAD ARRIVED late yesterday afternoon and hadn’t seen much of Ben’s ranch yet. But it was clear a lot of hard work had gone into the Silver Spur even before Gunner had gotten the lowdown from the kid hired to help feed and water the animals and do odd jobs.

While Ben wrapped up a business call, Gunner waited outside the small barn office and talked to the boy. Billy, with his friendly face and jug ears, looked to be about seventeen and took pride in his work. Bales of hay were stacked in two corners, an entire wall of orderly tack looked well-maintained and he’d been cleaning saddles while he described the poor condition of the ranch before Ben had bought it.

“Sorry to keep you waiting.” Ben closed the office door behind him.

Gunner saw the frustration in his face. “If this is a bad time I can get lost for a while.”

“No. Now’s good.” Ben plowed a hand through his long dark hair and tugged on his hat. “Man, I hate turning down business.”

“Better than burning yourself out or doing a half-assed job. You don’t need that kind of rep in Hollywood.”

“True.” Ben glanced at the boy. “I might be out of service for a while. We’re heading to the north pasture.”

Billy jumped to his feet and almost tripped over his stool. “You want me to saddle the horses?”

Ben hesitated. “Sure. But take your time. I’m showing Gunner around here first.”

Gunner followed Ben’s lead and moved to the barn’s entrance. Staying out of the blazing sun, they watched the long, lanky kid head for the stables.

“He seems like a good worker.”

“Yep.” Ben nodded. “But a little accident-prone. I know it kills him that I don’t let him work with the horses.”

“Maybe he’ll grow out of it.” Gunner shrugged. “I was on the clumsy side in my teens.”

Ben eyed him. “You serious?”

“And hungry enough to get over it.”

With a faint smile, Ben nodded. He’d also lived on the streets as a kid and understood what it took to get enough food in your belly. In order to survive, Gunner had learned how to steal and not get caught. Making restitution later had helped, but he hated remembering those bleak days.

Ben turned and glanced around the inside of the barn. “The loft has been reinforced. And I had the worse half of the roof repaired but the whole thing needs new shingles. That’s coming from the walls,” he said, gesturing to the cracks of sunlight that streaked the shadows. “I’m still working on that, but so far it’s stayed fairly dry in here.”

“I’m pretty good with a hammer,” Gunner said. “I can work on it tomorrow.”

“I thought you’d be helping Mallory move into her new place.”

“Who told you that?”

“Grace.” Ben laughed. “Who else?”

“Well, then she knows more than I do.”

“Grace saw her parking the U-Haul in front of the house she rented. It’s just off Main.” Ben frowned. “Grace offered our help, but Mallory said she had it covered. I figured that was you.”

“I saw her at the bar earlier,” Gunner said evenly, hoping Ben wouldn’t ask any questions. “She had something going on so we’re supposed to talk later.”

“I meant to ask, how long are you staying?”

“A week. Ten days maybe.” It had a lot to do with Mallory. “Unless you kick me out sooner.”

“Not if you’re fixing my barn, I won’t.”

Gunner smiled and moved toward the entrance. “The stable looks new.”

“It is. That’s where I’ve sunk the most money so far,” Ben said as they walked out under the hot July sun. “The place was a steal but I knew it would take a lot of work. It came with some equipment, though again, none of it in great shape, but good enough to float me for a couple of years.”




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