The Cowboy Rode a Harley Read online

  The Cowboy Rode a Harley

  Susan Arden

  Sweet-N-Spicy Tales

  The Cowboy Rode A Harley

  Series: Bad Boys Don’t Drink the Water, Book 3

  Copyright © Susan Arden

  Published: August 2013

  SWEET-N-SPICY TALES

  ISBN-13: 978-1491273982

  ISBN-10: 1491273984

  The right of Susan Arden to be identified as author of this Work has been asserted by her in accordance with Sections 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in retrieval systems, copied in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise transmitted without written permission from the publisher. You must not circulate this book in any format.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be resold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Amazon and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Find out more about the author and upcoming books online at http://www.susanarden.com or Twitter: @romancebysusan

  Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/SusanTaylorAuthor

  Blog: http://susanarden.blogspot.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Dedication

  To Doug Taylor, my best friend and husband.

  Motorcycle rider, motocross winner (Diamond Don and Unadilla), my hero

  and authority on motorcycle information.

  To all the readers who have made this journey with me, thank you.

  Sincere thanks and appreciation to Barbara Gibbs

  ([email protected]) for your incredible proofing of this story.

  Allie, for your fab chocolate lasagna recipe, thanks.

  And a huge thank you to Auburn Wade for your support and excellent Beta reading.

  The Cowboy Rode a Harley

  Book 3 of the Bad Boys Don’t Drink the Water series. This story takes place approximately two years after Tempted by Trouble (Book 1). This series features the Evermore Cattle Ranch and the McLemore family. The story began with Cynthia “Sam” Cainwright and Carolina Rodriguez, two cousins from Miami, Florida.

  Chapter 1

  Staring at the frilly canopy overhead, Stephen muttered a solemn, “Damn.” No point in arguing—he’d tied one on mighty tight last night, and just where in the hell he had landed was anyone’s guess.

  Bright sunlight streamed into the room from a pair of windows decked out with lacy curtains. He jerked his head away from the glare coming through the open blinds. The stabbing pain in his head increased with the sharp movement. He lifted his hand to shield his eyes. His right arm stopped short as a band of metal tore into his skin.

  “What the—?” His wrist was secured three or four inches away from the brass bed post by a set of metal handcuffs. He tugged, clanking metal against metal, and the bed squeaked as if in protest. That noise brought back memories.

  Shit. Where was he? Gazing around the room again, he affirmed the bed and room appeared much different in the daylight. Stuffed animals, fluffy pillows, and a heap of glittery women’s clothing swathed every surface. Christ, he’d never seen so many feathers, sequins, and beaded textures. He leaned his head back against the headboard. Stripper came to mind.

  Stephen wasn’t bound by his legs to the footboard or posts. Not this time. His left arm was free and he brought it down, scrubbing his hand over his face.

  “For the love of Mary,” he muttered, as bits and pieces of the previous night continued to float back into his awareness, filling in the gaps.

  The memory flared of bending a woman over the railing of the bed, and her moans evoked a churning in his gut. A far cry from how he’d started out yesterday, when he’d left his house in search of another evening of drinking and gambling. A hazardous combination in the world of morning-afters.

  Dropping his free arm onto the bed, he encountered a body next to him. Feet peeked out from under the top of the covers. Stephen lifted the sheet, darting a glance at woman wearing a pair of dungarees, and vaguely recalled entering the room with her hours ago. He reached for the woman’s shoulder and began to shake her into the here and now.

  “Lori, wake up,” he said. Nothing. The woman didn’t rustle. He released the sheet on top of her.

  One of them had laid down cash on the bar in some bawdy bet about going the distance after a line-up of shots. Another messed-up wager. He wasn’t going to take the bait, only Lori had said this was the last time she’d have spontaneous sex. Whatever that meant had been lost in the aftermath.

  Stephen twisted the handcuff, forcefully snapping it against the rail, but it was a no-go. He closed his eyes for a second to get his bearings. The memory of last night dripped back into his awareness: he’d stumbled into this strange room drunker than drunk. Wasted with a woman and all he’d cared was…nothing came to mind. At least not at that point.

  Today, he just wanted to get free and out of there, put some distance between himself and a raging hangover. Right about now, he’d sell his soul for a tall glass of ice-cold water.

  Holy. Fuck. Distance. Opening his eyes, he sat upright. Back at the ranch this very morning, they were laying down yards of fencing and he had a crew waiting for him. Balls to the wall, this situation needed mending in hurry. His brother would have nail his hide to the barn wallboard if he didn’t get back to Evermore to oversee his team.

  So far, Stephen had never been late. For all his carousing, his nightlife was his business and he meant to keep it that way.

  He shook Lori again, holding on to her above the covers. “Hey, I need the key.”

  Cussing at first, she responded with slurring gibberish, and then loudly whined to stop rocking the boat. Christ Almighty, she must still be drunk.

  Stephen studied the handcuff binding this wrist. A bright pink bow caught his eye on the nightstand on the other side of the bed. He spied what appeared to be a set of silver keys at the end of the ribbon. Small keys, just the right size to fit the lock on these cuffs.

  All he had to do was pluck them off the nightstand. He stretched, sprawling his arm across the massive mattress, and brushed his hand across a head of ruby curls. There, on the opposite side of the bed, he stared at the long, flaming hair belonging to another woman. The redhead lay on the very edge of the mattress. This was getting seriously messed up. Cuffs and two babes…and he had no recollection of a sexy threesome.

  Stephen moved, and his weight made the mattress dip. Lori groaned, and then snorted before she flailed her arms. She took up a vast amount of space in the middle of the bed while the redhead clung to the edge without stirring. Both women were out of it. Fire and brimstone, and he’d be damned, but he couldn’t jar free a single memory of the other woman.

  Long, curling hair hid her face, shielded her body, and jabbed his memory. He pulled back suddenly as though her fiery hair singed his skin. Stephen continued staring at her for a heartbeat, and then without considering, lightly fingered a silky curl.

  Even under the threat of holding up his crew, he was irrevocably drawn to her. Or really, the question of had he fucked her last night needed an answer. He moved her hair from her shoulder, tangling his hand in her soft strands. Over the years, he’d g
otten to know a slew of girls with cinnamon- to carrot-colored hair, but not one possessed hair this soft.

  He grimaced as his gaze traveled over her creamy skin and had him furrowing his brow. Nope, nothing but a big black hole remained in his recollection. Christ. The skin over his body tightened in his want to remember her. How much tequila had he consumed, and just what the hell had he done with her before…shit, this was the first time in a long time that he’d passed out. The shape of her body spoke of slender limbs and long lines and had him staring. Hard. Even so, he a drew cavernous blank when it came to her.

  This mystery would have to lie. No time to ponder on a wild orgy. Not when his brother Matt had ideas of how wild ranching could get when any of them messed up. Stephen, his four brothers, father, uncles, and cousins were walking around on eggshells when it came to Matt lately. His older brother had managed the ranch for the last two years with a lackluster sense of humor, and recently Carolina, his wife, had become pregnant with twins, making Matt’s temper flare.

  Every man at Evermore could take getting gored by a bull, but heaven help the man whose wife might be in jeopardy. Carolina’s condition had had Matt twisted in worry for the last month. All anyone had to do was look at Matt cockeyed and he’d tear the unlucky bastard a new asshole. According to Matt, giving birth to twins required his fulltime attention in making certain his wife, a large animal vet, didn’t venture into the cattle pens or horse stalls.

  But shit, Stephen admitted, he’d be a lunatic the day he got married and his wife was going to give birth to his baby. Another reason he had no desire to inch toward matrimony. That island of insanity didn’t need another inhabitant, and he’d keep his freedom. Thank you very much.

  No, he enjoyed living life free, easy, and unencumbered. Even if it meant waking up next to two women. Things could be worse, he mused. Oh yeah, tons worse. He inhaled the scent of flowers, and something smoky like incense, inciting a current through his body. Steeling his head, he refused to treat the mysterious woman on the side of the bed as though she was some sort of challenge. Time was wasting. Stephen rolled over, reaching above Lori, and purposefully avoided touching the redhead while lunging for the key.

  When his arm brushed against the crimson curls, he swore sharply. There was something irritatingly familiar about that head. The scent in the room came from her. The fragrance lifted into the air as he neared her hair. Not some cheap, sweet perfume, but reminiscent of some earthy essence, rich and erotically tantalizing. For a millisecond, he basked in her sexy aroma. Dammit, he knew her. Staring down and concentrating on her silky curls, he exhaled in frustration at his inability to uncover the missing link. He grabbed the key, and sought the safety on his side of the bed.

  Stephen sat back with the key pinched between his fingers. Clenching his jaw, he noted the redhead wore a t-shirt and her arms were long and slim, yet defined. No telling what was under the covers.

  Irked by an itching curiosity, he had to find out. Lifting the corner of the sheet, he stared at the opposite side of the bed and frowned. The unknown woman was narrow but curvy, long-as-hell-legged, and he wracked his brain to recall those legs wrapped around him. Wide awake at the thought, his dick hardened. He sure as shit would enjoy remembering those lean limbs thrown over his shoulders. That filly looked like she’d fallen into bed last night without bothering to get undressed.

  Why was he the only one naked? In bed with two fully-clothed women…this set the record in strange threesomes. He sucked in a mouthful of air, annoyed at his inability to place this sexy third wheel.

  He swung his own legs off the side of the bed, expecting to feel the ill effects of too much alcohol. Despite having a machete buried in his head, he was steady on his feet. The lancing pain to his brain made putting a key into a lock an act requiring surgical finesse.

  Nimbly, he inserted and turned the key, and then caught the cuff as it fell from his wrist. Only then did he realize how tight the handcuff had been. Stephen rubbed the numbness from his arm and hand while he stood and looked around for his clothing. Following a trail of shoes, he strode to the other side of the bed.

  A sharp gasp rose from the mattress. The splitting of his head increased remarkably. He gripped the brass bedpost and couldn’t keep his eyes from widening. Stephen’s spine snapped straight. “Gillian, what the heck are you doing here?”

  For crying out loud—the redhead was Haden’s baby sister. Now, this whole event took on all sorts of crazy undertones. His old friend’s younger sister watched him with eyes that stared, not at his face, but below. Far below his gaze and, from what he could tell, she continued to stare at his groin. Color stained her face, making her green eyes glimmer. His cock was rock hard and stood straight out from his body. He could hang his shirt from the lead-pipe-appendage his dick had become. No use trying to cover himself—the damage was done.

  But Christ, she didn’t say a word, and at the same time refused to look away. He had to do something other than bolt.

  “Cat’s got your tongue,” Stephen said, then turned, reaching for his clothes.

  She still hadn’t said a word. Her silence spread out in the space around him, twisting in his gut. He shook his head. Nothing to do but get dressed. And as quickly as he could under her scrutiny.

  Stephen bent down, reaching for his boxers. He glanced over his shoulder, praying she’d have her eyes closed. Nope. Emerald green shards of glass stared back. She followed his every movement, even though her gaze kept flitting back below his waist.

  He said the first thing that came to mind. “You should stop watching me and have a measure of decency.”

  Gillian snapped her arms across her chest. Right. That got her attention. The shit was about to hit the fan—full blast.

  “Excuse me,” she hissed, and sat straight up. “Decency. That’s rich coming from you, Stephen McLemore. Don’t use big words that you’ll trip over.” Gillian pressed her arms tighter over her chest, pushing her taut, firm breasts upward, and the sheet fell away from her legs.

  He’d been wrong. She wasn’t wearing shorts, but some type of hip-hugging underpants. Christ, it took his eyes forever to make it up her gorgeous legs. He enjoyed the journey, returning down her shapely calves, past her slender ankles, and finally rested on her arched, slender feet that almost extracted a groan from his mouth. He’d never realized a woman’s two feet could be such a turn-on. But then, Gillian wasn’t just any woman, he sharply reminded himself. Never mind Matt—Haden would chop off his dick for touching his little sister.

  He struggled mentally, rerunning the evening through his mind, searching for a glimpse of her in the recesses of his foggy memory. Without meaning to, his contemplation returned to her toes and he imagined sucking each one, especially the one with a dainty gold ring encircling her pink-painted toe.

  Sexy as any fantasy he’d ever had about a woman. Damn, she looked good with those underthings hiked way up her legs. His dick twitched, and mercy if the little minx didn’t drop her gaze to his cock again.

  “You keep staring. See something you like?” he asked.

  “Not particularly. I just don’t understand what it is that you think you’re up to, coming around this side of the bed…with that thing.” Gillian’s face went beet red and her chin trembled.

  “Christ, darlin’, I’m only gathering my clothes. I need to get back to the ranch. What the hell are you doing in this room? Did we…do anything last night?”

  “Are you telling me, you don’t remember who you poked with that thing? What do you do, just go around putting it into places without any recollection?”

  “Girl, I remember plenty from last night. Just not you.”

  “Well, maybe, Mr. Popular, that’s because you and I didn’t do a thing.”

  “You watched?”

  Gillian screeched, “Are you out of your cotton-picking mind? Why on earth would I even want to watch you?”

  “Because for the last couple of minutes, that’s exactly what you’ve done. Don’t li
e. I can see from your expression, you’re more than curious. I just can’t wrap my mind around why we might have been involved in a threesome.”

  She stared at him with her moist lips parted. If he’d thought she was riled before, this speechless state where her face had gone pink simply meant she was gearing up for some huge meltdown. He turned away, stepped into his boxers, and picked up his jeans. After slipping them on, he peered back at Gillian. She had her cellphone cradled to her ear.

  “Whoa.” He pulled the phone from her hand. “What are you doing that for?” Close to her, he realized he wanted to do more than take hold of her cellphone. She stood, coming up next to him. Her pupils were dilated and the way she held his gaze without speaking took hold of him. Between them something besides anger boiled.

  “Stephen, I was only checking my messages.” The heat from her body warmed his skin. The fire from her green eyes hadn’t abated; if anything, sparks continued to spew.

  “Give. It. Back.” She grabbed her phone but, for one second, their skin connected. Sweet Mary, he swore he’d just felt a jolt of some current pass between them.

  “Answer the other question, Gillian.” Their gazes clashed and snapped. He stared down at her, perplexed about why she suddenly turned him on. All the way. “Or are you just into looking?”

  For his entire life, he’d known Haden. From grade school to high school, somewhere in the shadows Gillian had just been his buddy’s kid sister. She was only a bit older than his little sister—somewhere around that smart-mouth college age—but everything about her said one-hundred-percent woman.

  “Jeez, could your head get any larger? How in blue blazes was I supposed to know you were shacked up with Lori? I don’t do bed checks when I go to sleep.”

  The idea of her tumbling into a strange bed hit him square in his belly. What type of life did she lead? No, he didn’t like this one bit. “Oh, you just happened to find your way into this bed by chance?”