Texas Two-Step: Cowboy Shuffle (2 page)

“’llo?” Maryann sounded like she’d been dead asleep and Ellen felt even worse.

“Hey, it’s Ellen. I’m so sorry, sweetie, but is Wes there with you?”

“Mm, it’s okay. No, he’s at your flat. He took some pain pills for his knee and fell asleep on the couch while we were watching the telly. I covered him with a blanket and left. Are you all right? Where are you?” A tone of concern began to creep into Maryann’s voice.

“I’m fine. It’s just…well, I’ve got a dead battery.”

“Where are you? I’ll come collect you.” Even half asleep, Maryann sounded cultured because of her British accent.

Ellen hated that her Texas drawl would never sound so high-class, but now wasn’t the time to worry about that. She heard the sounds of Maryann jostling the phone as she must have been getting out of bed. “No really, Maryann. Don’t come all the way over here. I’ll just go inside and see if somebody has jumper cables in their car.”

“Ah, right. Cables. I don’t have those, but I could give you a lift home.”

“Seriously, Maryann. Stay in bed. I’m sure security is prepared for little emergencies like this. It must happen all the time. They’ll help me.”

“Are you sure, love?”

“Totally. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“All right. Ring me up again if you need me.”

“I will. ’Night.”

“Cheers.”

Ellen could hear the weariness in Maryann’s voice. There was no way she’d ask her to come out and get her at this time of night. Maryann had only just moved here from London and was still getting used to driving on the “wrong” side of the road, as she put it. She shouldn’t be driving in the dark alone to a place she’d only been to once when she’d accompanied Wes to drop Ellen off when her car had, once again, been acting up.

After a frustrating twenty minutes, during which she learned the night watchmen weren’t prepared to handle car troubles, Ellen stood by the door of the hospital and stared at her cell phone. She didn’t want to do it, but after exhausting all other options she scrolled through the numbers and hit the send button.

“Ellen? Jeez. Um. What’s up? Are you okay?” Shooter sounded totally surprised and—rather than his usual cocky self-assuredness—kind of odd. He seemed surprisingly awake for the hour. He probably had a girl in his bed or something.

“Uh, yeah. Kinda.” She stumbled, dreading asking him for help with every fiber of her being. She forged ahead. “I hate to ask you this and if I had anyone else to call I wouldn’t but I’m at the hospital and my battery is dead—”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

She had her mouth open to explain why Wes couldn’t come, and why she didn’t want Maryann to, but Shooter cut her off. Ellen frowned. “You will?”

“Sure. Which parking lot you in?”

“The employee lot, off to the left, past the entrance to the emergency room.”

“Okay. See you in a few.”

He’d long since disconnected the call, but Ellen remained standing with the cell phone and her mouth both still open. The moment she’d said the word battery she had expected some smart-ass comment from Shooter. A crack about her needing good batteries since she had no man in her life or something equally lewd. Instead she’d gotten total compliance, willingly, no questions asked.

He must want something. Maybe he’d contracted some sexually transmitted disease and needed Ellen to get him penicillin. That was more Shooter’s style than riding to the rescue of a damsel in distress—not that Ellen would ever call herself a damsel. Though she should probably learn some basic car maintenance, and start carrying jumper cables in the trunk. It was frustrating that she could care for both humans and horses, but her car foiled her at every turn.

With a sigh, she turned toward the vending machines in the lobby and dug in the bottom of her purse for loose change. Might as well get a cup of coffee while she waited. Even if Shooter did as he said and came right over from his place, which was doubtful, it was still going to be a long night, following a long shift at work. She was tired, cranky and so not in the mood for this shit—or for Shooter—but beggars can’t be choosers.

Ellen plunked the quarters into the slot and selected the buttons for cream and sugar as she wondered what buckle bunny was currently getting ousted from Shooter’s bed so he could come and jumpstart her car. The machine spouted steamy, hot liquid into the paper cup. The caffeine would work to keep her alert, but that’s about it; you definitely didn’t drink vending machine coffee for the enjoyment of it.

She took a sip, decided it was drinkable, and snapped the plastic lid into place. After glancing at her watch so she’d know about what time to expect Shooter, if he showed up at all, Ellen pushed through the lobby’s glass doors to go out to her car. She was more likely to waylay an arriving or departing employee who could possibly have jumper cables if she waited in the staff lot. Always good to have a backup plan when dealing with unreliable cowboys. If she had to, she would call Maryann back and ask her for a ride, but maybe Shooter would surprise her and come through for once. Stranger things had been known to happen.

Ellen’s coffee hadn’t even cooled when Shooter’s truck peeled into the parking lot, windows down and radio blaring. Her brows shot up to her hairline. He’d actually come, and in a timely manner, just as promised. Miracles did happen. After stashing the cup in the console, she reached for the door handle. She was out of the car and leaning against it by the time Shooter approached, jumper cables dangling from his hand.

“Hey. Pop the hood for me?” Black cowboy hat pulled low over his eyes, he stalked to the front of the car without making eye contact. He must be pissed off she’d called him.

Oh well. At least he was here and she had some hope of getting home in the near future. She reached inside and pulled the hood release. Shooter had it propped open and was already fiddling with the battery as she walked to stand next to him. There was just enough illumination from the overhead parking light one aisle over for him to see to attach the cables.

“I’m sorry I had to call you. Wes wasn’t answering and—”

“It’s fine. I was awake,” he interrupted her explanation.

Just as she’d figured. She had a pretty good idea why he’d been up at this time of night. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

Still leaning over the engine, he swiveled his head to frown at her. “For what?”

“For disturbing you.” She didn’t elaborate upon what exactly she was sure she’d disrupted him from doing.

“I told you I was already awake.”

“Yeah, I know you were awake, and I know she—whoever the catch of the day was—probably wasn’t too happy to have you running off in the middle of…you know.”

He let out a bitter sounding laugh. “You don’t know everything.”

She found herself staring at the brim of his hat as he ducked his head again and busied himself under the hood.

“No, I guess I don’t.” She didn’t know how to jumpstart a car and she sure as hell didn’t know what was up with Shooter that he was acting so strangely.

No flirting. No insults. No joking. He was just talking normally, which was definitely not normal for him. And he was acting kind of uncomfortable around her.

There was a bunch of activity with him starting his truck, then her starting her car, then some engine revving on both their parts as Shooter instructed her in short, clipped sentences what to do next. Eventually her engine was running, though she didn’t dare say purring, because with her crappy car, it was more like stuttering.

“You going straight home?” Shooter stood, hands on hips in front of her as the engine continued to run.

He was tall compared to her, especially when he was in boots and she in the flat nurse’s shoes she wore for her shift. Ellen had to look up to speak to him.

“Yeah.”

Shooter nodded once. “Good. If it’s the alternator, the battery’s not going to charge while you’re driving and you’ll just have a dead battery when you try to start her up again.”

“Great.” Ellen let out a frustrated breath. She didn’t know anything about alternators but she sure knew she wasn’t going to risk stopping anywhere—not even to fuel up—if it meant getting stuck again in the middle of the night.

He knocked his hat back a smidge and she could see his eyes and just a bit of the wavy dark hair that was long enough to fall over his forehead beneath the brim. “You working tomorrow?”

“No. It’s my day off.” One good thing about working nights, she had days off. But besides that, tomorrow she had the entire day and night off.

He nodded. “Good, I’ll come over and take a look at it for you.”

“Really? You’d do that?” If Shooter could fix it, that could save her a fortune in mechanic’s bills.

“Yes.” Shaking his head, Shooter expelled a burst of air. “Why do you sound so shocked? I can be a nice guy, you know.”

“Yeah, I’m sure you can. It’s just that usually you aren’t.”

“Real nice. Thanks.” There was no joking in his voice. Shaking his head, he pivoted toward his truck.

Guilt stole all the fun out of teasing him. He usually was up for a good verbal sparring match. Apparently not tonight.

She took one step forward. “Hey.”

Pausing, he glanced over his shoulder. “What?”

“Thank you. You really helped me tonight and I appreciate it.” No joking, no sarcasm. She hoped her tone told him she was sincere.

He turned back to face her and nodded. “You’re welcome. See you in the morning.”

Ellen cringed. Morning was only a few hours away and she usually liked to sleep in after working the late shift. “Can we make it more like noon-ish?”

Shooter let out a short laugh. “Leave your keys out before you go to bed tonight. Wes and I can work on it while you’re sleeping.”

“All right. Thank you. I mean that.”

“It’s not a problem. Anytime. Besides, I want to be there for Wes’s lecture about how you shouldn’t have bought this car. I always enjoy those.” He smiled and it reached all the way to his eyes, crinkling them in the corners. Walking to the back of his big truck, he stashed the cables he’d disconnected.

Ellen was starting to believe he’d actually meant it when he’d said he didn’t mind helping her out. As a friend, he was proving he wasn’t such a bad guy after all, but she still wouldn’t date him if her life depended on it. Not with his insanely good looks that drew women like flies to manure, and his reputation as a ladies’ man who liked to rack up the conquests while going for quantity over quality.

Though given Shooter’s help tonight, Ellen would have to be a little less hard on Wes for his choice in best friends. Or maybe not. Teasing her brother provided far too much amusement to give it up.

Chapter Two

“That should do it.” Shooter wiped his hands on the rag and then slammed the hood of Ellen’s car.

“I hope so. I told her not to buy this damn thing.” Wes shook his head while bending to open the lid of the cooler on the ground next to the car. He pulled out two longneck bottles and handed one to Shooter. “Thanks for helping me with this.”

“No problem. Anything for free beer.” Shooter grabbed the icy bottle and popped the top. He took a long swallow of the cold foam. It had taken them all day to check and then change the alternator in Ellen’s car, but when she’d finally woken up, she’d taken Wes’s truck and gone out to buy them a twelve-pack of beer as a thank you.

“Yeah, well, I’d rather pay for beer and not have to stand out here in the heat all day fixing a vehicle I warned her not to buy in the first place.” Wes sported an uncharacteristic bad-natured frown.

“What’s up with you?” Shooter eyed his friend suspiciously. Hanging out with a buddy tinkering on a car while sharing some cold brew sounded like the perfect way to spend a weekend day to Shooter. Why was Wes so cranky about it?

Wes shrugged. “I just thought I could spend the afternoon with Maryann, but this took all day.”

Ah, and there it was. The truth. Wes would rather be with his girl than his best buddy. Having no response to that, at least not a nice one his saintly mother would approve of, Shooter drew another long swallow of beer and kept his opinion and comments to himself.

Ellen chose that moment to come strolling outside in the tiniest top he’d ever seen her wear, just as he was in mid swallow. Shooter coughed, choking on the bubbles that had been cascading down his throat when he’d gotten a look at Ellen and her exposed assets.

“You all right?” Wes slapped him on the back, which only seemed to make it worse.

When he could breath again, Shooter nodded. “Yeah, just went down the wrong pipe.” Thanks to Ellen’s nipples pointing at him through the thin white tank top. What happened to her usual baggy T-shirt? That he could handle. Not this. Not after his dream last night.

One thought of that dream, coupled with Ellen standing before him in cut-off shorts and her nearly inappropriate top, had Shooter’s dick rising. He fought the urge to physically smack it back down.

Ellen glanced at the car, hood closed. “You’re done? Did you fix it?”

Wes scowled. “Yeah, it’s all fixed…for now. But no guarantees what will go wrong next.”

“Nothing else is going to go wrong.” She shot him a frown. “There’s nothing left to break.”

She’d mumbled the last part so low only Shooter, standing close enough to see the soft wash of freckles across the bridge of her nose, could hear. He could tell she hated that car as much as Wes did, but she’d rather keep driving it than admit her brother was right. Shooter liked Ellen’s stubborn streak—as long as it wasn’t leveled against him that was.

He grinned. “If something else goes, we can fix it. These older model American engines aren’t so bad to work on.”

Ellen turned to him. “Thank you, Shooter. I appreciate your generosity.”

Shooter knew better than to let her appreciation go to his head. Ellen shot Wes a very pointed look probably meant to make him feel guilty for not being as enthusiastic and generous about fixing her car as Shooter was. Wes in turn sent Shooter an unhappy scowl.

Great, now he was in the middle of the feud between the siblings. Not a place he wanted to be but at least the distraction worked to help his hard-on subside a bit.