Boot Scootin' Secret Baby. Natalie Patrick
Читать онлайн книгу.
Cub,” the man went on, seemingly taking Cub’s lack of any response as overture to everlasting friendship. “Now, as I said, your skills speak for themselves and that hat and the strong, silent cowpoke persona you’ve cultivated, well, they speak for your professional image.”
Cub didn’t like this fellow. Did not like him at all. “But let me ask you this, Cub, who speaks for you?”
“I speak for myself.” Cub flicked his hat up off his face with one sharp pop of his thumb and forefinger. “May not come out as gussied up and slick as your words, mister, but I’ve done fine so far.”
“Have you, Cub? Have you really?”
The false concern rang like a rusted cowbell in Cub’s ears.
“Do you realize,” the man rushed on, “that with your reputation and talent you are one hot property?”
How could Alyssa have fallen for this two-bit hustler? Something was not right about this. Still, Cub reminded himself, it wasn’t his place any longer to protect Alyssa from foolish choices. That was this fellow’s lookout now.
The man narrowed his eyes in presumed familiarity. “You know, my friend, if you would just capitalize more on your current celebrity, you could be a very wealthy man.”
Cub shook his head and started to walk on. “I do all right just as I am.”
The man stepped back to keep himself directly in Cub’s path.
“Oh, I’m well aware of your considerable winnings these past few years.”
“You are?” Cub stopped.
“Got the stats from the National Rodeo Riders Association and frankly, Cub, you are underutilizing your earning potential.”
“I am?” He didn’t want to listen but the weasel had him hooked.
“Let me tell you, with the proper management to get you endorsements, better sponsorship, maybe a spot in a country music video, next season, you could be pulling down at least twice what you made last year.”
“Next season?” Cub huffed out a humorless laugh at the notion. “I’m sorry, buddy, but—”
“Crowder.” He thrust his right hand out. “Shelby Crowder.”
Cub eyed the man’s offered hand. He didn’t want to accept the gesture but his lifelong cowboy way of doing things wouldn’t let him slight a man he held no founded grudge against. When his palm met Crowder’s he gripped it tighter than the reins on a ton of loco bucking bull.
To his credit, Crowder didn’t wince. He did ease out a little sigh of relief when Cub turned him loose, though. Then he dove right back into business. “Look, there’s no use beating around the bush, Cub. I’m fully aware of your past relationship with Alyssa and I want you to know...”
“Shelby? Cub?” Alyssa’s voice carried across the bustling lobby.
Both men paused and turned toward her. The sight put a rock in Cub’s belly. She was still as beautiful in the morning light as she had been three years ago. It wasn’t lost on Cub, though, that this morning her easy smile and the flush of her cheeks was for the man standing beside him, not for Cub. He stole a glance at Crowder from the corner of his eye.
Head bowed, the other man seemed far more intrigued by his pager than the woman approaching them. Weaselboy sure was taking this whole awkward situation lightly, Cub decided. If the roles were reversed and Crowder were the ex-husband, a stampede wouldn’t draw Cub’s eye from Alyssa. Something was not right about this at all.
He let his gaze swing from Crowder’s nonchalant attitude to the overly sweet, yet almost panicked expression on Alyssa’s face. Something felt definitely crooked about this relationship and Cub figured he knew a way to bring the truth to light.
“What in mercy’s sakes is going on here?” Whatever it was, Alyssa surmised in a heartbeat, it wasn’t likely to be good for her.
Last night, she’d sent Cub on his way before he could meet Shelby and discover her lie. She hadn’t even mentioned the wild story to Shelby because the whole thing was so embarrassing. Besides, she had intended to clear it all up when she spoke to Cub later today. Of course, she thought that would be much later today.
She stopped beside the two men waiting for her in the practical elegance of the hotel lobby.
Somehow, she’d always pictured Cub staying in cheap out-of-the-way motels, or perhaps even sleeping in his truck as he went from rodeo to rodeo. The lonely, desolate drifter stereotype certainly suited her image of him much better than thinking of him staying in the best hotels, the places swarming with buckle chasing beauties. She should have at least considered, she scolded herself, that a rider as successful as Cub would be at this hotel, where she and Shelby were meeting potential clients this morning.
“Have you two been chatting long?” she asked, gripping her spanking new briefcase over her western cut jacket. She hoped neither of them could hear that rapid thrumming of her heart hammering against the faux alligator case.
“Actually—” Cub very gently placed the point of his boot on top of her shoe, stopping the feverish tapping toe of her pump. “Your...friend, here, has been trying to sell me your management services.”
“My management services?” She blinked, struggling to imagine what Shelby had in mind, while her real attention drifted downward to the place where Cub’s foot touched hers. Such a simple thing and yet it sent a tingling heat surging upward through her body, making it difficult to concentrate on the conversation.
“Our management services,” Shelby corrected. “A client like Cub Goodacre could provide the kind of financial anchor we need for our business to stay the long course.”
“A client? Cub?” She clutched the case like a life preserver and gave a breathy laugh that didn’t fool a soul. “I’m sure he wouldn’t be interested in a small-potatoes management firm like ours. Would you, Cub?”
“Gee, I don’t know.” He stroked his chin, his eyes downcast as though he were truly considering it. “I was always partial to potatoes.”
Not funny, she warned with a glance, sensing he was up to something.
He lifted the toe of his boot from her pump, situating it so that the sides of their legs kept in contact.
Her entire body stiffened but she did not move away from the warmth of his nearness. “What I meant was, I don’t think we’re ready to handle Cub.”
His gaze met hers from under the shadow of his hat. He cocked one eyebrow and his mouth lifted on one side. “I don’t know, Alyssa, I can’t think of anyone else I’d rather have handling me.”
She wet her lips. Her fingers caressed the smooth, textured surfaced of her briefcase. “I’m...we’re not prepared for that, Cub. You’re just...too big.”
“And that’s a bad thing?”
His husky growl rattled down her spine and created tremors low in her body.
The images and sense memories ambushed her from every direction. The musky scent of their shared bed. The golden light of the sunset streaming on their naked bodies that first time. The insatiable aching deep within her that only the hard, rhythmic power of this one man could ever slake.
A film of sweat dampened the back of her neck; her eyes could not quite focus on anything but Cub’s face, Cub’s incredible body. She swallowed and brushed her hair back with one limp hand.
“It’s...it’s not...bad,” she murmured. “Not bad. But—”
“Are you kidding? It’s terrific!” Shelby reached out to slap Cub on the back, but one cutting glare from under that hat brim made the taller man pause mid-gesture and settle for a light jab in the air. “It’s terrific. Does this mean you’ll consider signing with Crowder and Cartwright?”
“Hell,