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Austin (American Extreme Bull Riders Tour Book 7) by Jeannie Watt (8)

Chapter Eight

Kristen stared at Austin for a long moment. She could still feel the pressure of his lips on hers, could still taste him. It’d shocked her when he’d leaned in and kissed her, but shock had quickly turned to desire, fueled in part by the hot, disturbing dream she’d had the night before. A dream she could have made a reality by simply crossing the space between their beds.

Why hadn’t she crossed?

Fear of rejection. Fear that they weren’t on the same page.

Fear was a tough bitch to deal with, but then he’d kissed her, making her realize that her time with him was short, and that she wanted to do what other women did—to go after what she wanted in the personal realm instead of overthinking everything. The sense of freedom and empowerment she’d had since waking up with Austin in the Nevada desert had been growing—was still growing. She wasn’t exactly kicking butt and taking names, but she was able to look him square in the eye and say, “I have some social issues, but I can handle life. I can deal with a few bumps and bruises. A scar or two.”

“Maybe I can’t.”

Somehow that didn’t ring true. “You were the one who made comments about not sharing beds unless both parties were agreeable.”

“Both parties, Kristen.”

Rejection.

And it was a bitch.

She tilted her chin up, her fingers digging into her palms under the table. She was in too deep to retreat now. There was no way she was coming out of this situation with her pride intact, so she forged on.

“Here’s the thing, Austin…it isn’t like I chose to be attracted to you, but I am.” Her cheeks started to burn, but she was a woman on a mission. “And you kissed me as if you didn’t find me lacking.” He’d held back in the elevator. She’d been more than aware, and had held back herself, letting him lead the way, even though she’d wanted to melt into him.

She pulled a hand out from under the table and jabbed a finger into the Formica between them. “If you’re worried about me, you need to stop now. If you’re worried about yourself, that’s acceptable.”

“I’m not taking advantage of you while you’re on the road with me. That wasn’t what I had in mind when I said I’d help you break free.”

Her gaze went cold. “Take advantage of me?”

He shrugged.

“I think about you being naked, Austin.” Had dreamed about him and woken up feeling damp and frustrated. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, as if he wasn’t sure if she was kidding or not, and she fought to hold his very blue gaze. “I’m not saying I’m ready to tumble into bed at this very moment, but…I think about you naked.”

“That’s direct.”

“That’s honest,” she said in a low voice. “We agreed to be honest.” One of his ground rules. “And in case you’re wondering, yes, I’m dying a thousand deaths inside.”

“Good to know.”

“I understand if you’re not ready to make a move, but you need to own that. Not pass it off onto me.”

“I feel like I’m standing in the hallway in front of your locker.”

It took her a second to get his drift. “I have a hard time saying things sometimes, but it doesn’t mean I can’t do it.”

“Obviously.”

“It costs me.” Total truth.

He studied his hands, which were loosely clasped around his mug of untouched coffee. He frowned a little. “Think about me naked, huh?”

She gave a shrug, thankful that it came off as casual instead of a jerky up and down motion. “You are well built.”

He gave a considering nod. “I’m not starting anything I don’t feel good about. You aren’t going to be my one-night stand.”

If she’d walked into a brick wall, it wouldn’t have felt more solid than the rejection she’d just received. Perhaps this was why she never hung herself out there before. There was so much opportunity for failure, and she’d never handled failure well. On the other hand, she was at the point now where she had nothing to lose.

“I’m not looking for a commitment, Austin. I’m looking for an adventure.”

“When did you decide this?”

“Last night in bed.” After she’d woken up hot and bothered, more than aware that adventure was only a few feet away from her.

“Sometimes adventures have a way of getting out of hand.” He spoke as if he were very familiar with adventures getting out of hand. “Tell me what you think about this…we keep things on the straight and narrow until I get you back to Marietta? Then we can re-evaluate.”

Kristen pressed her lips together. Of course, she had no choice but to say yes, so it surprised her when she said, “My counter offer is that we keep an open mind and see how things play out.”

His eyebrows drew together. “We’re only here for a couple more days.”

“Then time is on your side.”

She liked the way he looked at her if his perception of her was crumbling, piece by tiny piece. She knew the feeling. She was adjusting her own self-perception, discovering that she could do things that usually froze her up. Not easily, but she was starting to hold her own.

He looked her straight in the eye, frowning a little as he said, “I’m not sleeping with you, Kris. Not under these circumstances.”

And now she was dealing with not one rejection, but two.

“Does sex ruin your knees?” She couldn’t keep the snarky edge out of her voice.

“No. Bull riding hurts my knees and sex exacerbates the injury.”

She was losing.

He reached across the table to cover her hands with his and, surprisingly, instead of tensing her up, the warm contact made Kristen’s tight muscles give a little. Maybe because she had lost and needed to accept failure. His gaze dropped to her lips and held just long enough to make her breath catch. “I’m trying not to do anything either of us will regret.”

Kristen gave a slight nod. Hard to argue with that. “What do we do now?”

“We’ll follow our ground rules, observe the boundaries. Be friends. Be honest.”

“You’re sure you’re down for the honesty part?”

He smiled a little. “It was my rule, so I guess I have to be.”

“Then I’m probably still going to think about you naked, and you can think about me any way you’d like.”

*

The privacy sign was on the door when Kristen got back to hotel later that afternoon, leaving her in a bit of a conundrum. Was he sleeping? Showering? Had he forgotten to take the sign off before leaving the room? She gave a small tap on the door.

“Yeah?”

Okay. Not sleeping. She cracked the door open, but didn’t look inside. “Are you decent?” After a long day spent pretending to sight-see while mulling things over in her head—i.e. reverting to form and overthinking—she’d concluded that her best course of action was to save face. Act as if the rejections didn’t matter. In fact, they should be celebrated because she’d hung herself out there. Taken a chance and, best of all, survived. She couldn’t say that her dignity was intact, but she was still breathing.

And now she was facing her first what-doesn’t-kill-you-makes-you-stronger challenge.

“Define decent.” He sounded like he was exerting himself as he spoke.

“Wearing pants.” Unlike this morning when she’d gotten that inspiring eyeful.

“You’re safe.” She started through the door. “Kind of.”

Her heart jumped, but she continued around the partition. Austin was sitting in the hardback office chair, gripping the foot he held on his muscular thigh and pulling it toward his crotch with both hands. And he was wearing pants. Kind of. The spandex bike shorts left little to the imagination.

“Yoga?” Kristen asked as she casually walked by to drop her purse on her bed.

“Nope. Physical therapy stretches.” He pulled his foot higher up his thigh as he spoke, gritting his teeth as he did so. “Working on my hip flexors.”

“I see.”

And boy did she. She saw taut muscles straining against the forces placed upon them. A light sheen of sweat showed on his bare chest and pecs, making the contours of his torso look utterly amazing. She cleared her throat, which was starting to feel dry. “I have some more shopping to do. I’ll let you get on with your training.”

“You don’t have to leave.” He grabbed the towel on the back of the chair and slung it over his shoulder. “I’ll even put on more clothes.”

“You’re fine,” she said.

He gave her a look.

“I’m used to naked men.” Although Lynn’s ex had looked nothing like Austin.

“The flaccid kind. I remember,” he said dryly. “I’m going to shower and then maybe we can get something to eat before it gets too packed downstairs.”

“Sure.” She managed a smile. “I’ll change while you’re in the bathroom.”

“You look great the way you are.”

She glanced down at her white cotton dress, then back up at him. He shrugged as if her looking good was a no-brainer before turning toward the bathroom.

“In that case, I guess I’ll just sit out here and think about you being naked in there.” Okay…maybe she hadn’t fully moved on from the morning’s conversation. She’d do better in the future.

“You’re not making this easy,” he said as he closed the door.

“Easy wasn’t part of the deal.”

*

Austin was glad he’d been on his way to the john when Kristen tossed out her last remark, because his dick started to thicken as soon as she mentioned thinking about him naked. Spandex was not a good medium for containing a hard-on. In fact, it was one of the worst.

He closed the bathroom door and tipped his head back to look up at the ceiling. Tried to recall his mission. It wasn’t to sleep with Kristen.

Was it?

He couldn’t see how that was a bad thing, but she was dealing with some shit, and women that were dealing with shit, sometimes made poor choices. As did guys. No need to be sexist.

He’d kissed her on impulse that morning and then regretted it as he started to consider consequences—for Kristen. And when she’d said she wanted fun with no scars, well, that had clinched matters. No screwing around, because how in the hell could he guarantee no scars?

She wanted to mess around…

Her meaning had been more than clear. She wanted an adventure. Scar-free if possible.

Yeah. As if there was such a thing when it came to emotions.

He released his dick from the spandex and worked the black stretchy stuff down his legs, kicking it free before he turned the water on.

They’d go to dinner tonight. Then go to their own beds. Alone. If Kristen had been a casual travel companion, if they didn’t have history, and he wasn’t friends with her sister, if she wasn’t growing on him the way she was, then he might not be so slow to act. But as things were, the situation was ripe for a major fuckup.

Things were certainly a lot easier when Kristen was all frozen up. But he was the guy who’d drawn her out, and now he was the guy who was going to have to make sure he didn’t do anything either of them regretted later.

An hour later they were seated at one of the better tables in the hotel restaurant and Austin was determined to keep things on a friendly, personal, but not too personal level.

They ordered drinks and then perused the menu. Kristen ordered a salad. Austin ordered a steak. Then they settled back in their booth and sipped their beer.

“What are your plans after you go home?”

Kristen shrugged. “I’ll smooth things over with my parents, and try to find a job.”

“In…what? Accounting?”

“That’s my degree.”

“What made you take the waitress job?” Because even though she looked hot as hell in that costume, Kristen wasn’t the waitress type. Or the costume type. He glanced over at her modest cotton dress. Or the show-her-rack type. Her costume had done a good job of that. Her costume had been pretty fucking hot, but that wasn’t where his thoughts were supposed to be.

“I was too picky about work the first few weeks after I got laid off. Then I got desperate when I realized that even the minimum-wage jobs were challenging to get, and with my student loans, minimum wage wasn’t going to cut it for very long. The Silver Bow paid well and the tips were supposed to be good.”

“Supposed to be?”

She smiled ruefully. “I didn’t do too well in that regard.”

He laughed. “We all have our gifts.”

“Yes. Mine is numbers.”

“Mine is not.”

“You seemed to do okay in math class. You never attended and somehow you passed.”

“I attended every now and again.” He attended often enough to know about the scar that had identified her to him at the Silver Bow.

She settled her elbows on the table, resting her chin on her hands, her beer sitting essentially untouched. “How did you not get nailed for truancy?”

He also set his elbows on the table, mirroring her. “My dad excused my absences. As long as I was practicing rough stock riding and passing my classes, he was good with anything I did. And I’d like to point out it was not wasted time. I use my bull-riding skills more than I use my math skills.”

“I bet you use math skills.”

He smiled crookedly. “Yes. I’m great at counting to eight.”

“All the way to eight?” She smiled back. “I knew you were smart back then. I listened to you answer questions when you deigned to come to class. It bothered me that you didn’t take advantage of your education.”

“Yes. I recall a time when you made that clear.”

She shrugged unrepentantly. “Somebody had to do it.”

“I disagree.”

“Come on…it made you all the more determined to succeed.”

He leaned closer, even though he told himself not to. There was something about her wide green eyes and full lips that made him forget his own pep talks. “Are you trying to take credit for my success?”

“I figure I’m due at least fifty percent of your winnings…and don’t worry about the math. I’ll do it.”

“Comforting to know.”

She picked up her beer and drank, watching him over the rim. He would have given up a win at that moment to know what she was thinking, because he knew what he was thinking, and what he didn’t want to be thinking. Moisture glistened on her lower lip when she lowered the bottle and Austin’s groin tightened as he thought about licking it off.

He blew out a breath and reached for his beer. When in doubt, take refuge in alcohol.

They said no to dessert. Austin paid for the meal. Kristen told him she was keeping track of what she owed him, and, to keep the peace, he’d simply nodded as if he fully intended to accept payment in the future.

They crossed the lobby and were almost to the elevators when a loud voice called, “You! Asshole!”

Austin turned to see a very drunk Braden Crawford heading across the lobby toward him with murder in his eye.

“Do you know him?” Kristen asked, putting a hand on his arm.

“Yeah.” Austin took hold of her arm. “Stay here.” He let go and started toward Braden. A security guy was also heading toward the young bull rider.

“You stole my sponsor!” Braden stumbled as he spoke and Austin grabbed his arm and yanked him toward the door.

“We’re good here,” he called to the security guy.

“Not until you’re off the property, you’re not.”

“Going,” Austin said, wrapping his arm around Braden’s neck in a choke hold and moving toward the door. Kristen started after them, but he was in no position to control Braden and convince Kristen all was well, so he just kept walking.

“Like fuck we’re going,” Braden choked out close to his ear. Austin moved his head so he didn’t get bit. Drunk bull riders could be unpredictable creatures. The security guy followed them until Austin dragged Braden to the public sidewalk twenty yards away from the hotel.

“See you again and I’m calling the police.”

“Officer…?”

Austin glanced over his shoulder to see Kristen catch up with the security man and start talking earnestly to him, then he continued down the sidewalk with the flailing and struggling bull rider, glad that he had a few inches and several pounds on the wiry kid.

When they were a safe distance away, he let go, then ducked the roundhouse punch the kid threw. “Stop, or I’ll have to get serious,” he growled.

“Took my fucking job!” Braden backed up a few steps, his face screwed up in an angry grimace. “I was going to make it back to the top. I’m not staying in the minors forever!”

“Yeah. I know.” Braden was also drinking too much and getting himself into too much trouble. His sponsor had taken notice. Cut him loose. Offered Austin the sponsorship, which he had accepted today.

He looked over his shoulder, saw the security guy heading back to the hotel and Kristen still standing at the edge of the parking lot.

“Go back to the room,” he called to her. “I’ll be up shortly.”

“No.”

Austin rolled his eyes at the stubbornly protective note in her voice. “Please go. Braden and I will talk and then I’ll be up.” Braden launched himself at him while he was talking, but Austin easily wrangled him back into a hold. The guy was so drunk that he could barely keep his feet under him.

“I got this,” he said as Braden grunted. “Go.”

“I’ll wait in the lobby,” she said stubbornly.

“Thank you.”

“The security man said that he’s calling the cops if you don’t get clear of the property.”

“Noted.”

Kristen headed across the parking lot, her shoes making soft noises on the asphalt, and Austin turned back to Braden, who’d stopped struggling. Austin loosened his hold and then jerked his head toward the park across the wide street. “Come on, man. We’re going to talk in a place where we won’t be arrested.”

*

Kristen turned when she reached the hotel and saw Austin guiding the drunk man across the street. She watched for several minutes after they sat down, and when no violence ensued, she went into the lobby and took a seat in one of the cream-colored leather chairs. Once settled, she looked over her shoulder toward the park. Austin and Braden were just visible from where she sat and it appeared that Austin had the situation under control. He’d had it under control from the moment the man had called him an asshole.

People skills. Maybe she should be taking notes.

The security man walked past her and she smiled at him. He nodded back before casting a frowning look through the glass doors toward where Austin and the other guy were deep in conversation, across the street from hotel property.

“Are you waiting for them?” the security man asked.

“For one of them.”

The man gave her a stern look. “I don’t know that either of them are welcome back.”

Kristen channeled the cool confidence/arrogance that had protected her so well and caused her so much trouble. “The man I’m waiting for was accosted at dinner. He’s an American Extreme Bull Rider, with national sponsors, and he has an image to maintain. I promise you that he’s just trying to get this guy under control so that he can take him to wherever he’s staying.”

The guard blinked at her, as if debating the truthfulness of her story, so Kristen let her expression ice over just a little more. “You can check the registration. Austin Harding. Bull rider.”

The guard gave a small cough, making her wonder if he was a bull-riding fan. “That other guy had better not be staying here.”

“I’m certain he’s not.”

Kristen’s phone dinged as the security man gave her one last hard look, for good measure apparently, then continued on his way. She pulled the phone out of her purse. Austin.

‘Go to the room. I’m going to be a while.’

Kristen went to look out the tall glass windows that flanked the door. Both men were looking her way, as if fully expecting her to check on them. With a sigh, she turned toward the lobby and crossed to the elevator. Fine. She’d go to the room and worry there. Although, it appeared that Austin still had the situation well under control.

She hated the unknown. Hated unresolved situations.

Hated being told what to do.

She let herself into the room, wondering how long Austin was going to be.

Not long, it turned out. She’d barely gotten into bed when the door opened and Austin walked around the partition and turned on his bedside light. She pushed herself upright. “No black eye, I see.”

He blew out a breath and sat on his bed. “Nope.”

“Where’s…” She hesitated to call the guy his friend.

“In his room a couple of floors down.”

“How’d you get him past security?”

“Never underestimate a bull rider.” She frowned at his non-answer and he said, “Got lucky. Slipped by while he was busy dealing with someone else.”

“You depend on luck a lot, don’t you?”

“Have to. Skill can only get you so far. Circumstance and luck do the rest.”

She didn’t argue the fact. “If you don’t mind telling me, what was the deal between you two? How did you steal his job?”

Austin started prying off his boots. “He got busted down to the minor league tour. Started drinking too much. His sponsor took notice.”

“And he blamed you?”

“I got his sponsorship today.”

“Seems like he’s responsible for that.”

“He’s young. Only nineteen.”

Kristen’s mouth flattened. “All the same.”

“Bull riding is a tough gig.”

“I noticed.”

Austin stood, his hands resting loosely on his buckle. He shook his head, then headed for the bathroom as Kristen burrowed deeper into her blankets. A few minutes later he came back out and she listened as he undressed, turned off the light and then slid into bed.

“Is he going to be okay?” she asked in a low voice.

“No telling.” There was a flatness to his voice. Resignation to things he couldn’t change, but wanted to.

Kristen pulled the blanket around her a little tighter. Austin’s life, his chosen profession, was fraught with uncertainty. How on earth did he deal with it, day in and day out? But deal he did.

“Are you okay?” she asked in a low voice.

“Fine.”

He didn’t sound fine.

“Maybe you can talk to him when he’s sober.”

“Don’t think that’ll do a lot of good.”

It was hell wanting to help someone and not be able to do it. She wanted to help Austin; Austin wanted to help his fellow bull rider.

She rolled over, trying not to think about the guy lying few short feet away from her, staring up at the dark ceiling. She shifted positions a few minutes later and tried to force herself to relax.

What would happen if she made a bold move, got into his bed?

According to him, he’d kick her out again to save them from doing something they’d regret.

No…to save her. She was certain of that. It wasn’t as if she was going to break Austin Harding’s heart.

She balled her pillow up under her head even though she felt more like putting it over her head. Then maybe she wouldn’t be able to smell the warm masculine scent drifting her way, hear him moving in his bed.

“Kris?”

She froze. “Yes?” Her voice was barely audible.

“Are you okay?”

She almost said no, she wasn’t okay, but she wasn’t going to pile something else on his plate. If he’d wanted to sleep with her, he’d be in her bed right now.

“Yes. I’m fine.” If one didn’t count tension, frustration at not being able to help, and gut-level desire to feel a hard body pressed against her own.

“Then, please…for the love of all that’s holy…go to sleep.”

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