Home > Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(46)

Chasin' Eight (Rough Riders #11)(46)
Author: Lorelei James

Click, click. “See? All finished. I’ll be in touch about release forms.”

“Ah. Good. Thanks.”

Chase crowded her, setting his hand on her lower back, above her ass, showing everyone she was with him. “Great ride. See you on dirt tomorrow night.”

None of the bunnies bothered him—just as Chase predicted.

And that bothered Ava. Big time. She felt used.

Frankly she was tired of Chase running hot and cold, gazing at her with lust and then acting like an offended monk when she responded to his blatant sexuality. What happened to her intent to reclaim her own sexuality?

You set it aside because that’s what Chase wants.

But what about what I want?

What about it? You want a change, you’ll have to make it or take it, not wait for it.

Ava huffed out a frustrated breath. It was annoying to realize that once again she’d shelved her intimate needs and followed a man’s lead.

Enough. It was past time she took control.

“You’re awful quiet,” Chase said when they reached his truck.

“Just thinking about how thoughtful it was of you to look out for Ryan. Especially helping him get laid.”

Chase’s hand froze on the door handle.

“I’ve gotta admit jealousy, though. We’ve been friends longer and you haven’t gone out of your way to help me get laid.”

“Jesus, Ava.”

She hip-checked him—not playfully—and opened her own door, then slammed it in his stunned face.

Music filled the truck cab as they exited the fairgrounds. They didn’t speak. Ava rolled down her window, breathing in the humid night air. It smelled different here. Warm. Earthy.

Once they were inside the room, Chase stripped off his chaps. “I’m hitting the shower.”

Ava waited until she heard the water turn on before she poked her head into the bathroom. “Chase?”

“Christ Almighty. What do I hafta do to get some damn privacy around here?”

“Learn to lock the door?” she intoned with fake cheer.

A growling noise bounced off the tile walls.

“I’m going out. Don’t know when I’ll be back, so don’t wait up.”

The shower curtain snapped open and he blinked the water from his eyes. “Where you goin’?”

“Won’t know until I get there.”

“Just lemme finish my shower and I’ll come with you.”

“Nope. I’m flying solo.”

“Why?”

“Do I really need to spell it out for you?”

“Yeah, Hollywood, and use small words so the dumb cowboy don’t get confused,” he snapped.

“Don’t be an ass.”

“Don’t be a diva,” he shot back.

Ava stomped closer to the shower and purposely didn’t allow her gaze to drop below his eyes. “While I appreciate your friendship, you can’t fault me for looking for something more, even for one night. Especially since I’ve told you I won’t live like a nun just because you’ve decided to act like a monk.”

“So because I won’t nail you right goddamn now, you’re goin’ out to find some random dude to f**k just to prove you’re as hot as sin?”

“How is that any different than you using me as a shield to prove you can abstain?”

That shocked him.

Good. “I’ll see you later.”

“Ava. Wait.”

She didn’t.

After grabbing her purse, she sailed out of the room and made tracks to the pub she’d passed earlier in the day. Although the place seemed crowded, Ava found a seat at the bar and ordered a draft beer.

The jukebox spewed country tunes. A few couples were dancing. Maybe she’d find a smooth-moving country guy to teach her to two-step, since Chase had refused.

Fucking Chase McKay. Damn man was intruding on all her thoughts.

An older guy took the barstool next to hers. She recognized him—he’d helped Ryan and Chase behind the chutes tonight. She smiled. “Great ride tonight.”

He smiled back. “Thanks.” He offered his hand. “Taz Lashlee. I saw you with Bill Chase and Ryan earlier. Ryan tells me you’re a reporter?”

“Yes. Ava Dumond.”

Taz looked around. “Am I in Bill’s chair?”

“No. He’s not here.”

“Huh.” Taz ordered a beer.

“So can I ask you a few questions?”

“You planning to put me in the hot seat?”

“Only if you want a chance to shitcan PC chit-chat and blow me away with your nitty-gritty, down-and-dirty stories about life on the road as a rodeo cowboy.”

“Careful what you wish for.” Taz held nothing back.

Ava wished she’d brought her video camera—Taz’s life was the stuff of legends. She made a mental note to get footage of him riding. The variances between a grizzled old veteran, a competitor at the top of his career and a rookie in the beginning stage of learning the ropes made a fascinating dichotomy. After an hour passed, she felt as if she’d known him for years.

Taz said, “You expecting Bill to show up?”

“Nah. He was tired. He’s probably crashed in the room.”

“So you’re traveling together?”

Ava nodded. “I’m new to the world of rodeo. He agreed to show me the inside scoop. That’s all.”

“Dollface, that surely ain’t all. Not even close. The man has it bad for you.”

Not bad enough to act on it.

“I seen how he’s been lookin’ at you.”

“And how’s that?”

“Like you’re a hot, sweet fried Twinkie and he’d like to lick you up one side and down the other before devouring you completely.”

“Except the man seems to be on a sugar-free diet,” she said wryly.

Taz chuckled. “Maybe. But I reckon he’s just trying to keep from gorging himself.”

“Such an overactive imagination, Taz.”

“I try. Better to be one of them colorful characters folks talk about than an average Joe.”

The conversation drifted to Ryan. Upcoming rodeos they’d all be attending. Other events. Then Taz took off, leaving Ava alone. It was enough to give a girl a complex about men.

Right. She already had enough complexes, although she doubted anyone would look at her and believe that.

A guy paused behind the barstool on Ava’s right side. He smiled. “Is this seat taken?”

“No. I was just—”

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