Page 8 of Roping the Rodeo Queen
"Two beers," Jo hollers to the bartender, sliding onto a stool like she owns the place.Heads turn to follow her every movement.
I settle onto the stool beside her, acutely aware of how every conversation in our immediate vicinity has dropped to a whisper.Great.Just what I need---an audience.
"Relax," Jo whispers, nudging my shoulder with her own."You look like you're about to bolt."
"Can you blame me?"I accept the beer from the bartender, a grizzled man with arms like tree trunks who's clearly been working this joint since the Carter administration."Half the people in here are staring at us."
"Good."She takes a long pull from her bottle, scanning the room.Her gaze has the calculating precision of a general surveying a battlefield."That's the whole point of this exercise."
"In what way?I'm confused, Jo.An explanation would be helpful."
Before she can respond to my query, a familiar voice calls out through the ruckus behind us."Well, I'll be damned.If it isn't the second-place cowboy himself."
I don't need to turn around to know the jerk who's speaking is Brock Sterling.My jaw tightens as I sense his presence behind me, and the smell of his expensive cologne wafts through the room.His smugness is almost as pungent.
"Sterling," I acknowledge without glancing at him, and I deliberately swallow a large swig of my beer.
"And there's the beautiful Jo Callahan."Brock slides up to the bar beside me, close enough that his shoulder brushes mine.Territorial bastard."Didn't expect to see rodeo royalty in a dive like this."
Jo doesn't even glance at Brock as she speaks."Sometimes you need to get your hands dirty to remember where you came from, don't you think?"
"Can't say I relate."Brock signals the bartender for a whiskey, neat."Some of us never forgot we belonged at the top."
The dig lands exactly where he intended, and my knuckles whiten around the beer bottle.Jo must sense my tension because her hand suddenly lands on my thigh, squeezing gently in what appears to be a warning.
"Clay and I were just celebrating his impressive performance today," she declares, her voice carrying far enough to draw attention from nearby tables."Two-tenths of a second behind you, Brock."
Brock's smile falters for a fraction of a second before he recovers."Impressive for a small-time rancher, I suppose.But we both know consistency is what separates the champions from the also-rans."
I open my mouth to fire back, but Jo digs her fingers deeper into my thigh.Her other hand slides up my arm, coming to rest against my biceps in a gesture that's unmistakably possessive.
"Clay has plenty of consistency," she proclaims.
Something shifts in Brock's expression, his eyes darting between Jo's face and her hand on my arm.I can practically hear the wheels turning in her mind.
"Your companion?"he repeats, his voice laced with disbelief."Since when did you two become so...friendly?"
Jo leans in, gazing up at me like we're going steady."Some things happen when you aren't looking, Sterling."
What the hell is she playing at?
Brock's gaze narrows, and his lips pucker faintly."Last I heard, Jo wasn't exactly in the market for a cowboy.In fact, I heard she prefers...a different sort of companionship."
I clench my jaw so hard it hurts.If Brock doesn't shut his mouth, I might do it for him.But before I can respond, Jo grips my hand under the table, squeezing firmly.I get the point.She's urging me not to let Brock crawl under my skin.
I relax my posture, draping an arm around Jo's shoulders as I turn my focus to her."Ready to boogie, darlin'?"
"Absolutely."Jo slides off her barstool with fluid grace.She twines her fingers with mine, and the contact sends an unexpected jolt through me."I love this song."
I don't recognize whatever's blasting from the speakers, but I'm not about to admit that with Brock Sterling watching our every move.Jo tugs me toward the small dance floor where a handful of couples are swaying to the music.I follow because, hell, what else am I gonna do?
"I don't dance," I mutter close to her ear as we reach the edge of the wooden floor.
"Tonight, you will, Clay."She slides her hands up my chest and onto my shoulders."Trust me, McKendrick.This is all part of the plan."
"Shouldn't your cohort be clued in?"
Jo ignores my question, already moving to the music.She sways those hips in a sensual rhythm that makes my mouth go dry and my brain forget how to form complete thoughts.
