Lang, Chloe - Going Wilde [The Brothers of Wilde, Nevada 1] (Siren Publishing LoveXtreme Forever)

The Brothers of Wilde, Nevada 1

CHLOE LANG

Copyright © 2011

Chapter One

The hotel bed looked so inviting to Jessica Green. After the day she’d had, it called to her, but she needed food in the worst way. Her stomach growled. She sighed as she looked around the little room. No sign of any room service menu. That was far too much to ask.

She stared at her reflection in the mirror. Brushing her wavy red hair, she saw only lifelessness. Typical. Even her green eyes seemed dull to her. The trip had been exhausting, and her weary face showed the miles. She added a bit of blush to her cheeks and applied some lipstick. She thought about putting on mascara, but decided that nothing was going to help her tired eyes. Turning her head side to side in front of the mirror, she reviewed her refreshed makeup. Her reflection didn’t appear much better to her. Oh well, she’d never been accused of being a model. She did the best she could with what she had.

That was the story of her life. Do the best with what you have because you won’t get anything more.

She grabbed her room key, and headed for the door. “Ready or not, Wilde, Nevada, here I come.”

* * * *

Jessica maneuvered her way through the crowd. The Horseshoe Bar and Grill’s business was booming. There wasn’t an empty table in the place. The very walls of the somewhat dilapidated building seemed to pulse with raucous country music. It was dark. The only real lights she could see came from neon beer signs and the dance floor, but she could still tell this place was some sort of cowboy heaven. Every man was wearing boots, jeans, and some form of hat.

She headed to the front of the bar. To her right she caught sight of a couple kissing, their tongues tangling in a blatantly erotic way. Damn, that looked like fun. Jessica tried not to stare, but they were striking together. The man was broad and held the small female carefully. When they broke apart, Jessica sighed, and then felt her eyes widen as the broad cowboy’s place was taken by another man who just as tenderly took over the kissing duties. The man who’d first kissed her stood and watched with a smile.

Holy crap! She’d fallen down a damn rabbit hole. She was Alice in Cowboyland.

She looked at the clock by the register. Two minutes after eleven. In fifty-eight minutes it would be her birthday. Of course, not everything had changed from last year. Some things seemed to stay the same.

I’ll be a twenty-five-year-old virgin. Happy birthday to me.

She groaned. Last year’s party had been quite different. Her now ex-fiancé had hired a band and a caterer. Fifty people had showed up to help her celebrate. That night, she’d felt on top of the world. Now, celebrating her official welcome to spinsterhood alone, she was scraping the bottom of the barrel.

Her current—and urgent—work assignment had brought her to Wilde, Nevada.
Thank God.
Her ex would’ve insisted on throwing her a party, and his latest
boyfriend
would’ve been thrilled to make sure it was an over-the-top gala. And then she would have to face what she’d been avoiding for several months, and finally confess to her dad that her engagement had actually ended and what she was going to do with the rest of her life. She wasn’t sure, so spending the night talking about it seemed like a bad idea. All she wanted to do was get something to eat, go to bed, and forget about her damn birthday.
 

She squeezed into an open stool at the end of a long bar. She let her hands find the brass rails that ran along the counter. It looked like it came straight off a Hollywood movie set. The scratches and indentions seemed to say the thing had weathered the real Wild West. All in all, it was a far cry from the city in which she’d spent most of her life. And, according to the receptionist at her hotel across the street, it was the only place in the town still serving food at this hour after a trip full of delays and screwups. Receptionist? Who the hell was she fooling? The woman had greeted her in a purple housecoat and curlers on her head, clutching a longneck beer. She also seemed to think Jessica’s name was Hun.

As her stomach’s growling grew more urgent, Jessica waved at the balding, middle-aged bartender, hoping to get his attention. The guy seemed oblivious to her presence, unlike the other men in the bar, who stood in small clusters, clearly together, all casting her lusty stares. What the devil was going on? She’d never received this much scrutiny before, but given the skewed ratio in the Horseshoe of at least four men for every one woman, it kind of made sense. Wilde, Nevada was a rough-and-tumble mining town, and likely few single women had reason to venture this far out.

Even so, if the bartender didn’t acknowledge her soon, she would crawl over the counter and shake him. “What does a girl have to do to get service around here?”

“What kind of service are you interested in?” a deep male voice inquired behind her.

Jessica turned her barstool—and nearly swallowed her tongue. The cowboy wore a black hat over glossy dark hair. He sported a sexy grin framed by a five o’clock shadow over sun-washed skin that gave him a dangerous sex appeal. His tight black T-shirt clung to his muscled chest that nearly made her gape. Well-worn Levi’s and leather boots looked as rugged as the man himself. She swallowed.

His deep laugh brought her gaze back to his face. His piercing blue eyes crinkled at the corners. God, he totally knew that she’d been checking him out. Blushing furiously, she looked down at her hands, trying to find her tongue to stammer out something hopefully not embarrassing.

This man set off alarm bells in her head that outstripped the Carrie Underwood song wailing from the jukebox. He was dangerous—on every level.

Breathe easy. He’s just a guy.
Jessica went through a litany of hormone-busting don’ts. He was a cowboy. Don’t. She liked urbane, educated men. He lived in nowheresville. She was a native New Yorker...Manhattan to be exact, now living in Washington, DC Another don’t. He was gorgeous. A big don’t. She never got anywhere with guys like him. The ultimate don’t.

That last thought cleared away her sexy thoughts.

The man settled his large hand on her shoulder. Instantly, her skin burned where he touched. With his other hand, he waved at the bartender, who suddenly came right over. Bastard didn’t know the first thing about customer service. Apparently, the locals didn’t like outsiders. Well, some of them. The cowboy touching her was most definitely a local.

What will the citizens of Wilde think of me once they get wind of why I’m here?

The barkeep walked over. “What can I get you, Jackson?”

Jessica liked the name. It wasn’t ordinary, and
Jackson
suited the man whose hand still lingered on her shoulder.

“The usual and two shot glasses.” Jackson turned back to her. “What would you like?”

Finding her voice, she said, “A menu. I’m starving.”

He shrugged, his big shoulders bunching gracefully. He leaned into the bar as though he owned the Horseshoe. “This place is more
bar
than
grill.
No menus. You eat meat?”

“I’m not a vegetarian, if that’s what you mean. Actually some protein would be great. I’d love some grilled chicken and maybe a spinach salad. Do you think they have feta cheese?”

One eyebrow arched up as he stared at her for a moment. He turned back to the guy behind the counter. “Burger and fries for the lady.”

She shook her head. “I don’t actually eat red meat.”

“Then unfortunately you don’t eat here, darlin’. Welcome to cattle country. We do two things well around here. We go down into a cave to mine silver and we work from sunup to sundown to produce the best cattle in the state. Actually I can think of one other thing we do well, but it’s a little early in the night to talk about that.”

She could take a wild guess at what he did well. Jackson looked like he was built for it, personified it. Was she drooling? Damn it. “Burger’s fine.”

“Excellent.” Jackson grinned, turning to the guy at the counter.

The barkeep frowned. “Grill’s been cleaned and turned off for the night. I can offer her some pretzels or peanuts.”

A high-wattage smile crossed Jackson’s face, way brighter than any neon sign. “Come on, Craig. She’s a guest in our town. And she’s a girl. Give her a break here. Tell you what, if you feed this little darlin’, I promise I will get you a seat at the high stakes poker table at Sneaky Pete’s next Wednesday.”

The bartender growled. “Fine, but only for you. If this was Austin, I would tell him to fuck himself.” The guy placed two shot glasses, a saltshaker, some sliced limes, and a full bottle of Jose Cuervo on the counter. “It may take a bit to get the grill warmed up, though.”

“No problem. We’ll get warmed up out here. And go easy on Austin. He’s been having to fuck himself ever since Sally Jo ran off to join the roller derby.” He grinned as he turned back to Jessica.

Craig snorted. “Word around town is that he broke it off with Sally Jo.”

Jackson shrugged. “Having a woman pick a pair of in-line skates over you can be hard on a man.”

In her own way, Jessica knew how hard it was to be overlooked. Although in her case she had been tossed aside for a wedding planner named Lyle. Maybe all she really needed tonight was the tequila.

After the bartender headed through the swinging door behind the bar, Jackson sat on the stool next to her, and looked at her like he wished the Horseshoe had a menu and that she was on it. But he didn’t make a move on her. Instead, he poured the clear liquor into the tiny glasses and then pushed one of them in front of her. “I bet you could use this.”

“You must be a mind reader.” She licked the back of her hand between her forefinger and thumb, grabbed the shaker, and dusted the spot with salt.

“Obviously, you’ve done this before.”

“College.” Jessica licked off the salt from her hand, downed the shot in one gulp, slammed the glass back on the counter, and then chewed on one of the limes. The tequila slid down her throat, warming her up. The completely hot—and obviously straight—man’s close proximity was raising her temperature as well.

“Impressive.” Jackson took his shot, sans the salt and lime. He poured another for both of them.

Jessica’s belly flipped. “I—I shouldn’t. I’ve got an appointment in the morning.” She should remember she was here to work. Her career was the only important thing now.

“Pity.” He stuck out his hand. “I’m Jackson.”

“Yeah, I heard the bartender call you by name.” She slid her hand in his and tried not to flinch at the heat that shot up her arm then raced through her body to settle right between her legs.
What the hell was that?
She cleared her throat. “I’m Jessica.”

He grabbed the shot glass and held it up. “To you, Jessica. Welcome to Wilde.”

His hot-eyed grin tempted her to walk on the wild side. It
was
her birthday, after all.

“What the hell? I don’t have to drive.” She picked up her shot, clinked it against his glass, then drained its contents. “To Wilde.”

“You’re something, Jessica.” Jackson winked at her and swallowed his shot. She felt his eyes skim her breasts. That one look was nearly physical, causing her nipples to tighten in response.

His lips were moist with the remnants of the tequila. She wondered what kissing him would be like.

Like that’s ever going to happen. If I haven’t found a lover since puberty, I doubt I’m going to lasso this hot cowboy my first night in town.

He walked around to the back of the bar, and no one dared to stop him. Jackson had such an easy confidence, not to mention a whole bunch of male beauty. It was hard not to gawk.

Jackson placed a bowl of pretzels in front of her. “This ought to hold you until your burger shows up.”