Page 2 of Texas Kissing

Gold Lake is a pretty small town and really doesn’t need a sports arena anything like as big as the one it has—I suspect some greasing of palms went on somewhere to get it built—but now that it’s here, the rodeos, Monster Truck shows and other events bring in big crowds. For the whole two years I’d been in town, I’d studiously avoided going anywhere near it.

But for some reason, that was where Francisco wanted to meet and I wanted to keep him happy. I’d been supplying passports to the Mexican cartel since I arrived in Texas and they’d become my biggest customer.

I paid and went in...and then realized my mistake. The message had said they were in Block Q. I’d come in through the wrong entrance and I was way on the other side of the arena. I’d have to thread my way between about a million people to get to them. I felt my skin crawling at the thought of all those bodies pressed against me. Plus, I’d be late. And Ihatebeing late.

Then I spotted the stairs heading down under the arena. Some sort of backstage area—I could cut through and emerge on the other side.

I hurried down the stairs. It was dark down there and pleasantly cool. I passed storerooms and dressing areas and then the floor turned to bare concrete, dusted with hay. And then—

Oh crap. I’d reached a dead end. There was a wooden fence and, beyond it, an open area with straw on the floor, so big that the edges disappeared into the darkness to my left and right. Some sort of holding area for horses or something, although it seemed to be empty at the moment.

And there, on the far side was the exit. I could seethe sunlight blazing in and hear the crowd roaring. I could cut across and be at my meeting in a few minutes.

I climbed inelegantly up the fence, swung my leg over and clambered down the other side. Then I started to trudge through the straw. It was further than it had looked to the other side.

My first sign that something was wrong was a snorting noise, like someone was trying to blow an obstruction out of their nose. It was much, much louder than it had any right to be. I spun around, trying to place it, but could see nothing.

Then two gleaming white horns emerged from the darkness.

Oh shit.

I’m 5’5”. The bull’s shoulders came to the top of my head. It was only walking at the moment, but each step was a pissed-off stamp. It was eying me with a look that said,what the fuck are you doing in my home?

I glanced around. I was roughly in the middle of the area, too far from either fence to get there in time.

Maybe if I keep still. Don’t antagonize it.

The bull pawed at the ground, sending straw flying.Shit! That’s bad, right?

It charged.

I froze for a split-second, by which time the bull had picked up a terrifying amount of speed. When I started running, the ground was shaking with the thunder of its hooves. I knew I wasn’t supposed to look back but I did—and saw the thing had its head down, its horns pointed right at me. It was easily going to outrun me, well before I hit the fence. And then I was going to be—my stomach lurched.Gored.

I raced for the fence, but with my body I’m not exactly nimble. The bull snorted and the sound was horribly close. I couldn’t stand the thought of it hitting me in the back, of not knowing when it would happen, so I spun around, still stumbling backward. The bull was ten feet away, eight, six—

A man crashed into the bull from the side and gripped its horns. Any normal man would have been tossed aside, or simply flapped around like a balloon attached to a freight train.

But this wasn’t a normal man. His hulking body actually made the bull look small. He hauled on the bull’s horns, steering it away from me. The two of them missed me by inches and came skidding to a halt a few feet away.

“Nowyou,”the man told the bull, “cool your damn heels!”

The bull glared at him and snorted. I caught my breath, expecting it to charge him. But, as the two of them faced off, the bull seemed to lose confidence. And no wonder—the guy wasmassive.He looked as if he was ready to wrestle the thing to the ground, if he had to.

“Go on!” the guy told it. “Get!” With his accent, it sounded more likegit!

The bull snorted a final time...and sulkily plodded away.

The man turned to face me and I looked up...up...upinto his face. A black cowboy hat threw a shadow over his hair, but I could just make out that the curls were very dark brown, not black. His eyes were the same clear blue as the Texas sky, stunningly bright against his tanned face. He was breaking into a broad grin and those lips above that roughly-stubbledjaw looked...dangerously enticing.Oh Christ, he’s gorgeous.

“Well,” he said. “Lookee what we have here.” His accent was as broad as a prairie and as hard and unyielding as a cliff. It seemed to make my whole body vibrate and sing, as if I’d been crafted specifically to react to it.

I just...staredat him. There was a lot to stare at. He was a full head taller than me, well over six feet. And he was wide enough that I could barely see the retreating bull behind him—he blocked out the world. But it was all muscle. His pecs were like tanned, curving footballs, his abs a series of hard, smooth-edged ridges. And all of it was the same golden-brown tan.

I could see all this because he was—ulp—stripped to the waist. Black cowboy boots, tight jeans with a broad leather belt and then...just all thisman,tanned and hard. My brain kept trying to process it but the sheermalenessof him kept overpowering it. He was too big, too close. Trying to study him from that distance was as impossible as studying a hurricane close up.

And yet...I didn’t move back. Couldn’t move back, even though he was so big and so close. You know that feeling you get when a guy invades your space and you get antsy and uncomfortable and you want to step back?

This was the opposite of that.