BOOTS & CHAPS
by Myla Jackson
(NOTE: The cover is only in development mode. Don't you love it so far?)
She gave up stripping to go legit…until three Kiowa cowboys bring on the down-and-dirty.
Jackson Gray Wolf is turning thirty, and what does he have to show for it? A ranch. No wife, no kids, no dates. He’s had his eye on the pretty owner of the Ugly Stick Saloon, but their one accidental encounter was interrupted before he could get her out of her take-me-now red cowboy boots.
Audrey Anderson isn’t in the market for a man. Been there, done that, has the scars to prove it. She retired her pole-dancing boots after purchasing the Ugly Stick Saloon, and now manages a stable of strippers. When she winds up one stripper short for a private party, she’s forced to slip on a mask and into the role of the mysterious Kiki.
Jackson didn’t want the birthday bash his twin brothers are throwing him, but his vow to ignore the rented stripper goes awry when she shows him exactly how far she’s willing to go—for all three of them.
Audrey can’t forget the sizzling heat between her and one sexy Kiowa in particular. Jackson. Trouble is, she’s not sure if he wants the bold, brassy Kiki, or if he’s ready for the wounded woman underneath.
With a sigh, Jackson Gray Wolf shifted into drive and headed for the ranch, to slog through the last couple hours of his birthday, unnoticed, uncelebrated and completely uneventful. Just as he’d asked.
What had his mother always said?
Careful what you wish for, you might just get it.
Thirty minutes later, he arrived at the ranch house, pulling up beside his brother’s trucks, the only other vehicles in the driveway.
He sat for a minute, studying the house.
The television was on in the living room, the light from the monitor glowing through the open blinds.
Mark rose from the couch and walked past the window into the hallway, returning a minute later with a bowl. Probably popcorn. A typical night at the Gray Wolf house. Boring. Uneventful.
Confident he wasn’t facing a gauntlet of well-wishers, Jackson entered the house.
“Hey, Jackson, how was your hot date?” Luke called out without budging from his position sprawled across one end of the couch.
“It wasn’t a date. I changed a light bulb.” Jackson peeked around the corner of the hallway into the kitchen. No one waited in the shadows to jump out and surprise him.
“Looking for something?” Mark stepped up behind him.
“No. Just making sure someone cleaned up the kitchen.”
“We got that covered.” Mark opened the door to the refrigerator. “I grilled a steak for you if you’re still hungry.”
“No thanks. I think I’ll hit the sack. Got a lot to do tomorrow.”
“Suit yourself.” Mark returned to the living room without further comment.
That’s it? Had his brothers actually complied with his wishes for the first time ever? Jackson smiled as he headed toward his room, the smile fading the closer he got to his door. Turning thirty had been a completely normal day. So much so, it left him feeling a bit empty. If he wasn’t mistaken, he’d say he was downright sad. No party, no Audrey. All he had to show for the day was one torn shirt and a doctored cow udder.
Jackson pulled his shirt over his head and sat on the side of his bed, toeing off his boots, one at a time, dropping them to the floor.
A loud thump and a shout sounded from the living room. What the heck were Mark and Luke up to at this hour? Weren’t they getting a little old to wrestle in the house? Jackson listened and the noise stopped.
When he stood to unbutton his jeans, music filtered through his door. The sound built and swelled, thump, thump, thumping against the walls until Jackson could no longer ignore it. Anger surged through him as he shoved through his door and stomped down the hallway to the living room.
The couches had been pushed back against the walls and all of the lights had been turned down or off except one lamp that had been stripped of its shade, the bulb replaced by a black-light bulb. A strobe light perched on the fireplace mantel blinked off and on, adding to the nightclub feel of the room.
Jackson came to a halt, nearly tripping over an ottoman when a lithe, graceful figure entered the room. Her long, straight, platinum-blonde hair swung down around her hips. A white cowboy hat and a Lone Ranger mask guarded her face from view. But it wasn’t her face Jackson was looking at.
She wore a white blouse tied snuggly beneath her full, voluptuous breasts. Her bare midriff displayed taut abs all the way down to the tie strap of the leather chaps riding low on the sexy swell of her hips. Beneath the chaps she wore a white string-bikini bottom that glowed brightly. On her feet dark cowboy boots glistened with shiny metal diamond-shaped studs, sparkling in the flash of the strobe and black light.
His breath caught in his throat, Jackson stood transfixed as the woman strutted into the center of the room and stopped with her hands on her hips, her feet spread wide.
The music changed tempos to his favorite country-western song about saving horses and riding cowboys.
One boot tapped against the hardwood floor, then the other, the chaps swaying with the movement of the blonde’s hips.
Jackson’s mouth dried, his cock twitched and the pulse at the base of his throat pounded to the rhythm of the music.
Mark and Luke hooted and hollered, stomping their feet with the beat, jerking Jackson out of his trance. For a moment he’d been the only man in the room. Now he was one of three, ogling a dancer. Anger spurred by his mounting irritation pushed Jackson over the edge.
“What the hell’s going on?” he shouted.
The music played on, and the dancer rocked her pelvis, her arms rising toward the ceiling. She rolled her head, the long bleached-blonde hair swishing down over her back. When she turned, Jackson groaned.
The back of the bikini bottom was nothing more than a thin strip of material disappearing down the crack of her ass. She bent over, giving him a full moon of two luscious butt cheeks.
“What does it look like?” Mark grinned and rose off the couch. “We hired a stripper in honor of your birthday, but since you didn’t want any part of a party, we decided not to cancel. Someone ought to get a little enjoyment out of the money we spent.”
Other Books visiting the Ugly Stick Saloon:
Dirty Tricks: One Up On You
Dirty Tricks: Two Can Play That Game
Dirty Tricks: One Up On You
Dirty Tricks: Two Can Play That Game
Dirty Tricks: Three's A Charm
Dirty Tricks: Four Play