Page 3 of Space Cowgirl: Houston, All Systems Go
“Paco?”
“Hey. Paco is a cool-as-shit name. Sheesh, you racist or something?”
“I’mnotracist. That’s just not my name.” I can actually feel my blood pressure rising. “And you should know better than to accept drinks from strangers. Jesus, Jules. That’s drinking 101.”
Jules remains unfazed by my tone. “Billy gave me the beer from the fan. I’m sure he vetted the dude.” She tilts her head to the side in thought. “Or girl. Chicks dig me.”
I blanche at this. The twitch I’ve been fighting in my pants becomes a full-blown salute at the thought of Jules naked with another woman.
“In fact, your sister propositioned me just a bit ago.”
Annnnnnd, the salute drops.
“Sheesh.” I rub my hand down my face.
She laughs. “I know, right? I’m on fire tonight.” She pushes up from the bar, her height putting the top of her head level with my nose. Which is some feat, as she isn’t even wearing heels. She’s at least five eight, maybe five nine, coming in a few inches below my six foot one.
Jules makes a move to step past me but falters, her shoulder banging into mine.
“Whoa, there.” I reach out and steady her, but she brushes my hands away.
“I’m not one of your horses, cowboy. ‘Whoa’ someone else. I’m good.” Then she saunters away, a little unsteady, but still hot as hell in those tight leather pants. She’s right, she isn’t one of my horses, but I still can’t help wanting to get her in the saddle.
* * *
Twenty minuteslater and I’m concerned. I haven’t been here long enough to know how much Jules drank, but her eyes look unfocused and she’s leaning heavily on the wall next to the table the group commandeered earlier. Getting a table on a crowded Saturday night hadn’t been so much luck as having an inside advantage—Trish is one of Big Texas’s bartenders.
I refocus on the petite Southern lady, wondering why my manhood won’t twitch in her direction. Trish is exactly my type. Polite, dainty, a nice, sweet smile on her lips. She’s dressed in a denim skirt and wearing heels so high she must have to balance on her tiptoes just to walk around. She’s friendly and seems laid-back, the perfect woman for sharing a cup of coffee on the ranch’s porch before I start a long day of hard labor. She’s the kind of woman who would probably bake me banana bread just because she knows it’s my favorite.
And yet she does nothing but conjure up friendly, sisterly feelings as she sits on one of the bar stools while some guy named Ian, who I don’t know very well, gazes at her like she hung the moon. He catches me looking at Trish and glowers.
I turn my attention back to Jules. She’s still propped up against the wall, long legs crossed just like her arms are over her chest. Uninviting, but alluring. Like the kind of girl who would chew you up and spit you out after a night of hard loving. I have a feeling if I told her I like banana bread she’d scoff, make an anatomically incorrect gesture, then determinedly devour a raw steak in front of me to make me feel like an idiot for liking baked goods. Jules isn’t easy and her smile is more sexy than sweet, but she’s the one that my whole body locks onto, the one certain parts of my anatomy salute.
Suddenly, Jules scrunches her eyes closed, then opens them in a series of blinks. The tight curls around her face shake as she straightens from her place on the wall and steps toward the table.
“Hey Jackie, I—”
She never finishes her sentence because she falls forward, luckily catching herself on the back of Jackie’s barstool.
I move fast around the table, but Flynn gets to Jules before I can, his hands under her arms, lifting her up. I try not to think about how close his fingers are to her breasts, and instead focus on her face, which is slightly pale and sweaty.
“Jules! You okay?” Jackie asks, her hand cupping Jules’ cheek.
“Fuck. I think I may have miscalculated my alcohol tolerance since landing.” She’s trying to laugh it off, so I can’t tell if her slightly slurred speech is from amusement or from the amount of drinks she’s had.
“I’ve never seen you like this. You’re usually a tank.” Jackie looks up to Flynn, the panic in her eyes telling me more than her words that this isn’t normal Jules behavior. Jackie jumps down off her stool. “Let’s get her home, Flynn.”
Flynn nods, though I know it’s reluctantly. It isn’t that he wouldn’t do anything for Jackie’s friends, but he told me earlier that he had something special planned for Jackie tonight, and I’m sure that didn’t include playing babysitter to his girlfriend’s drunk bestie.
“That’s okay, I’ll take her.”
All eyes turn to me, and quite a few smirks. Stupid busybodies.
“I’ve got my truck, it’s no problem,” I say, shrugging off their interest.
Jules steps away from Flynn only to fall into my arms. She snakes around my waist and pats my butt cheek. “No problemo, eh, Paco?” Then she snort-laughs into my chest.
I know she’s drunk, and I’m a complete jerk for thinking this, but by God I love her body against mine. Not to mention her hand on my ass.
