Page 2 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
A chill races down my spine at the word stalker. I focus on the three shot glasses in front of me, trying not to think about the stockpile of disturbing messages that I’m sure awaits me in my social media accounts. I’ll deal with that later. Or not.
I vote not.
I don’t even ask what’s in the shots. As soon as Billy lowers the shaker, I pick up the glass closest to me and knock it back. I knock back the next as well, but when I reach for the third, Rose blocks me and snatches it up.
“Back off, astro-girl. This one’s mine.”
While Rose shoots her shot, I wink to Billy in apology for taking his. He smiles and winks back. “I can always pour myself another. Perk of the job and all.” He leans over the bar and into my space, his slow, drawn-out smile making no bones about what he wants. “You want a third, Astronaut Starr?”
“No, she’s good.”
The warmth from the alcohol has nothing on the fire streaming through my veins at the sound of the deep voice behind me. Taking my time, I turn toward the speaker, knowing exactly who I’ll find.
And yep, there he is, pure sex poured into cowboy boots. Boots that have actually seen a hard day’s work on a cattle ranch and aren’t just for show. Dark blue Levis topped off with a tight black T-shirt that looks surprisingly new. The front is tucked behind a modest-sized belt buckle, scratched and dull instead of shiny and decked out in bling. An honest-to-goodness cowboy hat acts as the cherry on top of this sexy-man sundae. Not one of those stupid, bigger-than-a-Cadillac, ten-gallon things that a lot of these cowboy posers wear, but a low profile black hat that’s worn well and hard, just like the man sporting it.
Yummy.
I bat my lashes and bring my hand to my chest. “Why, Holt West, I do declare.”
* * *
HOLT
I try notto smile at the Southern syrup dripping off Miss Starr’s words. But with my mind on her tall, lithe form, it’s kind of hard. When I first saw Julie standing at the bar next to my sister, all I could see was her firm rear end pushing the limits of her tight leather pants. That’s right, we’re in a Texas saloon and the lady is wearing leather pants. God love her.
Her Ziggy Stardust T-shirt looks like it’s been through a meat grinder. It drapes over one shoulder, showing off a thin black bra strap, and the bottom of the shirt is tied at the waist. The knot in question rides up, giving me a glimpse of her navel as she leans back, both elbows on the bar behind her, crossing her shit-kicker biker boots at the ankles.
My sister has no such qualms and she openly snorts at Jules’ sarcastic Southern twang. “Nice, Jules.” Rose looks at me. “What’re you doing here? A bit far away from Lonesome Dove, isn’t it?”
A long-suffering sigh escapes me. I know I don’t leave the ranch very often. I can’t. I’ve got a business to run and people depending on me. But now that I’ve patched things up with my brother, and him being all but attached at the hip to his new girlfriend, Jackie, I want to make more of an effort to be involved. With Rose. With Flynn. Their friends.
Rose leans in and gives me a quick hug. I don’t tell her enough, but for all her smart-mouth ways, I love her the most. She’s the most positive force in my life. Always has been. Even after Gramps’ death and then our parents’, her smiles light up the room. Hell, even when Flynn and I acted like grade-a jerks, her positivity was the glue that kept us from becoming completely unhinged.
“Miss Starr.” I nod in Julie’s direction.
“You can call me Jules, hot stuff.” She lifts her chin at someone behind me. I turn to catch some guy with a pseudo mullet leering in her direction.
“Friend of yours?” I ask, hoping she doesn’t hear the tightness in my voice.
“That’s Doug. I let him twirl me around on the dance floor a while ago.” She watches the guy walk away. “Good footwork, but too handsy for me to give him a second round.”
I swallow the jealousy I feel toward douche-bag Doug. She can dance with whomever she wants. I don’t care. After watching my father second-guess every glance between my mother and another man, I’m determined never to let a woman have that much control over me.
Jules lifts her chin at yet another douche bag. This one with actual rhinestones on his belt buckle. I step up to her, cutting off her line of sight to the rest of the crowd. One of my boots on either side of hers.
All I get in response is a raised eyebrow.
“Geez, caveman much, bro?” Rose swivels in place and raises her hand in Flynn and Jackie’s direction. I guess the lovebirds finally came up for air. “While I truly enjoy you metaphorically banging your fists on your chest, I’ve already witnessed this ride with Flynn.” She blows a kiss at us before walking away. “Good luck, brother dear,” she calls out over her shoulder.
I’m grateful for the dim lighting. For a guy, I blush easily, and it’s annoying as all get-out.
I turn my head back to Jules to find her slugging back a beer, her wide mouth wrapped around the opening. Another twitch in my pants has me shifting in my boots.
“Where’d that come from?”
She raises a finger, telling me to wait. And I do, while she chugs back the entire thing, slamming down the bottle and then licking her lips. Her wet, full lips.
“Listen, Paco, I already have a dad, I don’t need another. Hell, I don’t even want the one I have.” Her brows furrow, like she doesn’t know where that last bit came from. But I soak it up. Jules is hard to get a read on, so I’ll take everything she gives, even if it’s alcohol induced. “I can drink what I like, when I like. Especially when the bartender tells me a fan of mine bought it.” She smiles seductively. “Don’t want to disappoint the fans, now, do I?”
