Wound Tight: A Rough Riders/Blacktop Cowboys Crossover Read online

  She parted her legs and he scooted up on his knees, trailing his fingers up the silken expanse of her outer thigh.

  He levered himself over her, grateful for the dark.

  From that first deep thrust, Justin knew he was a goner.

  A goner.

  Totally gone for this girl.

  If he kept going…he’d never want to leave the tight, wet heat of her body.

  That’s what she wants. She’ll get her hooks in you and never let go.

  The warning too soon, too young got louder and louder, drowning out everything else.

  A burning sensation squeezed his lungs, expanding until he feared it’d tear him apart.

  I can’t breathe. Why the fuck can’t I breathe?

  Then he made the mistake of looking into Callie’s eyes.

  Something more than lust shone back at him.

  Hope.

  He blinked, trying to erase the expression he’d seen on her face, praying he’d misread it.

  But at second glance, it hadn’t changed.

  It’d intensified.

  Not that. Give me any look but that one. I’m not the man you think I am.

  “Justin,” she said softly. “Don’t.”

  “I can’t do this.”

  “Wait—”

  But he didn’t. He pulled out of her abruptly and scrambled off the bed.

  Immediately the heat and urgency that had driven him to this point morphed into a cold sweat and he started to shake.

  He found his clothes and dressed quickly, silently begging her to let him escape without discussing what a spectacular fuck-up this was.

  It doesn’t have to be. You can fix it.

  No. Don’t second-guess yourself. Just go.

  When he heard her inhale, he braced himself.

  “You’re leaving?”

  Justin gave her a curt nod and reached for his hat.

  “Fucking me was that much of a disappointment?” she demanded.

  “One thrust isn’t fucking, Callie.”

  “What we were doing before that one non-fucking thrust…doesn’t count?”

  Justin lifted his chin. “All of it counts—”

  “Don’t say it,” she warned.

  “—as one big mistake,” he finished.

  “You don’t mean that.”

  He didn’t know what the fuck he meant. Or what he wanted…except to get out so he could breathe. So he could think. Maybe then he could silence the voices warring inside his head.

  “I’m sorry.”

  She didn’t say one word in return.

  Yell at me, call me names, because you know how to get to me.

  Talk about sending himself mixed messages. He couldn’t stay but he didn’t want to go.

  Fear won out over hope. It always did for him.

  His boots barely touched the floor as he ran out.

  Chapter Seven

  It’d been five weeks since Justin had pulled the one-pump chump dump.

  Five long, confusing weeks.

  Sometimes Callie had to remind herself they’d only been together three days before the implosion, explosion, whatever it was called that’d caused the shift between them.

  Why had those three days seemed like three weeks? She’d never clicked with a man like that before. It’d sliced her down to the bone when he’d just left her like that, after she’d opened herself up to him emotionally and physically.

  She had no one to talk to about it—her sisters were in their own little worlds; her mom would worry that she’d gotten mixed up with a “broke-down cowboy,” so Callie had turned to the internet for advice. Those experts who offered assurances that deep cuts healed faster were full of shit. That single cut had expanded like a crack in a windshield, until it was big enough to shatter her outer shell.

  So here she was for the first time in her life, walking around with her heart unprotected, with her defenses down completely, and that fucker Justin Donohue was clueless about it.

  Talk about fucked-up. Callie was pretty sure that you were supposed to hate a guy after he did something like that, not understand why he did it, and hope the dumbass came to his senses.

  The next morning, she allowed herself one hour to mope and cry. Then she did what she always had: picked herself up and went to work. Her life would go on whether or not he chose to be a part of it for the next couple of months.

  Running into him the first time…Callie acted no differently toward him. She neither went out of her way to talk to him or avoid him. With the rodeo school in session that first week, they barely saw each other at the compound.

  But Justin showed up every night she worked at The Sly Fox.

  He never approached her. Never tipped her. Never tossed money on the bar after she danced. In fact, he went out of his way to lurk in a dark corner with his cowboy hat angled to hide his face.

  She had to secretly laugh at that. Did he really think she wouldn’t notice him? Everyone took notice of a man who typified brooding cowboy loner.

  Week two of their breakup or breakdown, or whatever it was…Callie got assigned to work the arena where the bull riding instruction took place. She finally got to see two-time PBR world champion Justin Donohue on the back of a bull.

  His first ride was shit. But his second ride…Jesus, Joseph, and Mary. The man defined grace and raw power. She stood there like a total newb, her mouth open, her tongue hanging out, goosebumps covering her body.

  He finished the ride with a text-book dismount—landing on his booted feet in the dirt with his Stetson still on his head.

  Their eyes met across the fence. The cocky fucker was perfectly aware of her swooning reaction. After bestowing a wicked grin that made her damn nipples hard, he tipped his hat at her, as if he’d dedicated the ride to her.

  That’s when things got really weird.

  Starting the next day, Justin tracked her down and ate lunch in the cafeteria with her. Every day. Didn’t matter who she was with—Lana, Bill, or Dickie—he joined in, acting his friendly charming self. Asking her questions, offering up stories about his students, or what’d happened with Deke during a stock check. He treated her like a friend, a buddy, not a guy who’d briefly put his dick in her, found it not to his liking, and bailed.

  During one of their lunches, he’d overheard her talking to London Grant about her love of lemon-flavored candies and baked goods. From that day forward, she’d find a lemon-flavored goodie in her locker in the employee breakroom. Every day.

  Someone placed two new pots of flowers around her fifth-wheel.

  Someone brought over a stack of firewood for the bonfires that were becoming a Sunday night tradition among the Grade A employees.

  Someone fixed the broken window on her camper.

  The someone part wasn’t a mystery. The mystery was why Justin did all that.

  Callie didn’t know what to make of it. If it were anyone else, she’d ask what the hell was going on. But part of her feared if she asked him, he’d stop.

  Instead, he stepped up his efforts to…deepen their friendship. That was the most logical explanation because the man hadn’t made a move on her at all.

  On Friday movie afternoons, he begged her to help him chaperone the students. They shared popcorn and snarky comments about the lame “wholesome” type of western movies.

  When he discovered she headed for the gym on the nights she couldn’t sleep, he showed up to run alongside her on the treadmill. She suspected he synched his wireless headset to her MP3 just so he could complain about her taste in music. He’d never heard of One Direction, Ed Sheeran, Sia, or Imagine Dragons. Callie called him old and he’d just laughed.

  The next time they worked out together, he’d forced her to listen to his music. She never would have guessed that a forty-year-old white cowboy from South Dakota loved Eminem, NIN, Metallica, Snoop, and TLC. He found some amusement when she serenaded him with “No Scrubs.”

  In the meantime, Lana and Deke had started dating and she had to li
sten to her friend blather on about her new boyfriend. Callie didn’t believe it’d last, but she wasn’t the type to burst Lana’s happy bubble just because she was confused about her own situation with Justin. In fact, she oughta get nominated for the Friend Hall of Fame for lending Deke and Lana her camper the night Lana decided to let Deke pop her cherry.

  But that was a double-edged sword: it seemed she and Justin were always covering for the lovebirds. Callie got roped into doing the first cattle check at least twice a week so Deke and Lana could be together. But she hadn’t minded. She loved being outdoors. And watching Justin on horseback was worth losing sleep over; the man was a sight to behold in chaps and spurs. If he’d draped a coil of rope over the saddle horn, she might’ve had a spontaneous orgasm.

  So they’d become close…as close as two people could be who were rarely alone together since the rodeo school was a chaotic place 24/7.

  Callie figured that’s why Justin still came to the bar a couple of times a week—he needed adult entertainment that required no interaction on his part. He didn’t stay long and he was always gone when she clocked out.

  Then earlier this week, she was surprised to see him in the parking lot when her shift ended at one a.m.

  She enjoyed the view for a moment, his tight, jeans-clad cowboy ass sticking out as he bent at the waist under the hood. “Justin?”

  He banged his head he stood up so fast. “Ow. Fuck.”

  “Sorry. What’s going on?”

  “I have no fucking idea.” He ran a grease-covered hand through his hair in a move she recognized as pure frustration. “It won’t start. It ain’t the battery, or the spark plugs or the timing chain.”

  “Has it been acting up?”

  “Yeah. I was gonna get it to the garage as soon as I…” He glanced at her with embarrassment.

  His pride wouldn’t let him admit he didn’t have the cash to get it fixed. “Nothing you can do about it tonight. Lucky for you I can give you a ride back to the ranch.” She pointed at the mysterious parts strewn across a tarp on the ground. “Need help picking that up?”

  “I have half a mind to use the tarp to set the whole thing on fire. Piece of shit.”

  “It’s late, you’re tired. It’ll look different in the morning.”

  “You’re probably right.” Justin rolled up the tarp and tossed it into the back of his truck.

  She pulled around to pick him up.

  “Thanks for the ride.”

  “You’re welcome. Have you been out there messing around with it since you left the bar two hours ago?”

  “Yeah. I’m not mechanically inclined. I can see basic problems, but this one…?” He shook his head. “Who knows what it’ll take to fix it.”

  Or how much money. Money she suspected he didn’t have. “If it’s a major issue, I’m sure Chuck and Berlin would advance you—”

  Justin held up his hand. “Let’s talk about something else. Please.”

  But the silence stretched between them.

  She couldn’t ask any of the questions she wanted to.

  Why do you come into the bar and leave without talking to me? To remind yourself that I’m young and I have a job where other men leer at me? Does that cool down your attraction for me?

  Why haven’t we ever talked about the night you took off? Why are you so sweet and thoughtful to me now? Is it just to make me want what I can’t have?

  “Callie,” he said sharply.

  “What?”

  “Watch the road.”

  “Sorry. I was lost in thought.”

  “I know where your mind went,” he said softly. “Look, it’s time I explain why I—”

  “Stop right there.” She realized she didn’t have the heart or mindset to deal with this discussion now. “I’m exhausted and weaving all over the damn road, so I don’t have enough functioning bran cells to concentrate on that type of discussion. Can we just listen to the radio?”

  “Fine.”

  Classic country filled the cab, but she didn’t pay attention. She felt Justin staring at her, and she ignored that too.

  Callie pulled up to her camp spot and put her truck in park. She opened her duffel bag, fishing out a wad of bills—her tips from this week. Then she thrust the money at Justin. “Here. Don’t argue with me. Take it and get your truck fixed. Pay me back when you can.”

  “Jesus, Callie. No. I don’t need—”

  “Yes, you do. Swallow your pride, cowboy hottie. This loan will be our little secret, okay?” She looked away from his intense gaze. “We’ve all been there. I’ve been broke more often than not. You’d do the same for me, wouldn’t you?”

  He cleared his throat. “Yeah, sweetness, I would.”

  “Then it’s settled.” She opened the driver’s side door and jumped down. “And take my truck. You’ll need it tomorrow during the day. I won’t.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Positive.”

  “I won’t forget this, Callie. I owe you. Anytime you need something, all you gotta do is ask.”

  “I will. Now I gotta get some sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  Except she hadn’t seen him the next day. Or the day after that.

  But he had left her freshly-washed truck parked in her usual spot, the tank full of gas.

  And now, she’d test that anytime you need something statement right now.

  Callie scrolled down her list of messages. She and Justin had texted each other once, right after she’d given him her number, he’d sent her a smiley-face emoji with the word hey. Hopefully he hadn’t deleted her contact info.

  ME: Hey, it’s Callie. You have time to help me out?

  His response was immediate.

  JD: Yep. Whatcha need?

  ME: A distraction. Are you working Stirling’s surprise party tonight?

  JD: I’m supposed to pick her up at the house in the ATV in 20. Why?

  ME: I’m waiting with her. Except she brought a surprise guest, her boyfriend and the minute they’re out of the bedroom, she’ll insist on going to the barn early and Mrs. G will KILL me if I don’t keep her outta there until everything is ready. We gotta stall until we get the all clear.

  JD: So you want me to be late?

  ME: NO, she’ll hop in her car and drive herself. We need to get them away from here so they’re stuck with us and can’t escape.

  JD: Tall order, sweetness. You got a plan?

  ME: I’m gonna pick a fight with you first thing. And no matter what I say, play along. Give it right back to me.

  JD: Baby girl, I’ll give it to you real good :)

  Her belly did that little flip, swirl thingy. Surely he hadn’t meant it that way?

  Or maybe he had.

  She’d think about it later. She had a fight to stage.

  * * * *

  Justin pulled up in the ATV right on time. Looking like a million bucks. He probably smelled good too, as Callie could see he was clean shaven.

  He hopped out and offered his hand to Stirling’s boyfriend. “Hey. I’m Justin. I work at the Gradsky Ranch. You must be Stirling.”

  Callie about lost it. That was a perfect choice to start off this comedy of errors. She stomped down the stairs. “Are you kidding me right now? That is Stirling.” She pointed at the blonde woman sporting dreads almost to her waist. “She is Chuck and Berlin’s daughter.”

  Silence.

  Justin faced Stirling, his handsome face tomato red. “I am sorry, Miss Gradsky. No offense. I’ve only worked here a few weeks. I’m still figuring things out.”

  “No worries. This is my partner, Liam Argent.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, sir.”

  “You as well, Justin.”

  “We probably better get goin’.”

  But Liam forgot something in the house—thank goodness that’d eat up some time—and Stirling walked across the porch, taking in the view while she waited for her boyfriend. Since she wasn’t paying attention to them…showtime.

  “God. Do you
have to be so embarrassing?” Callie hissed at Justin, loud enough for Stirling to hear. “You thought Stirling was a guy? That is not a guy’s name.”

  “What about Sterling Sharpe, who played for the Packers? Or Sterling Archer?”

  Callie turned her laugh into a huff of annoyance then she gave Justin the signal to keep it going.

  “Wow. So you don’t know everything. Next time you spout off, little girl, remind yourself you could learn a thing or two from your elders.”

  Little girl? That stung.

  When Justin discreetly cupped his balls and smirked, telling her that he remembered her threat, she relaxed. He was playing a part, same as she was.

  Liam exited the house sooner than Callie expected.

  He said, “Sorry. I’m ready.”

  Justin gestured for their guests to sit in the back. He took his sweet time rechecking the mirrors and the gauges on the dashboard.

  Right after they started tooling down the paved path, Callie turned around and addressed Liam. “So what kind of doctor are you? Because I have this rash—”

  “I’m not a medical doctor. I have a doctorate in microbiology.”

  Callie gave him a comical, confused look. “To be honest, I’m not even sure what that means. Sounds like a class I probably would’ve skipped.”

  “Or failed,” Justin added with a snicker.

  She pushed his shoulder. “Shut it and drive. I wasn’t talking to you.”

  “I could be so fuckin’ lucky,” he shot back.

  Their passengers exchanged a WTF? look. But Stirling was too polite to get involved.

  “What sort of work do you do for my parents?” Stirling asked.

  “Whatever they want me to do.” She smiled and confided, “This week I’ve mostly been cleaning. Last week I filled in as a ranch hand with grumpy over there.” She pointed with her head to Justin and paused long enough that he could take his eyes off the road and scowl at her. “Next week I might be takin’ care of the animals.”

  A glazed look came over Stirling’s face.

  Just as Callie was about to bore them with more mundane details of her life, the ATV hit a bump.

  Callie went airborne and bit back the urge to yell at Justin that forcing an injury wasn’t part of the stalling plan. She scrambled for a hold on the roll bar as Justin hit the brakes and snagged the back of her jacket—both of which kept her from bouncing out on her head.