“Fuck!” Muttering, I put my arms over my head, run to my car and duck behind it for cover. More shots are fired, and I look around wildly, trying to locate the gunman, heart knocking hard against my chest. What the hell? This is more dangerous than L.A.!
Granted, Dad’s mansion is in a wealthy and safe area, but aren’t small towns supposed to be safe? Or is that just a stereotype to con us big-city types?
Those cowboys! They might be having a dispute that they couldn’t resolve amicably, and now it’s O.K. Corral time.
Fucking Drover. What a way to betray the state motto of “Friendship.” I want to pull away from the Maserati a little and see what the hell is going on, but the shots were just too close for comfort. I whip out my phone and start to call 911.
“What are you doing?”
I turn and see Becca standing in front of me in a tank-top and cropped jeans. She makes a perfect target just standing there all out in the open and all.
Forget 911. I need to protect her first!
“Get down!” Risking everything, I lunge out, grab her hand and yank her down into the sanctuary. I make sure to put a hand over that strawberry-blond head. I doubt my hand can stop a bullet—it isn’t like I’m wearing Kevlar gloves—but it makes me feel a little better to put an extra layer between her and the roving cowboy gangs’ guns.
She crouches next to me without any fuss. “So, today’s the day you’re moving yourself in?”
I nod, looking for signs of the gangs moving in. That’s how gangs gain territory. At least, according to Hollywood it is. But Becca smells really nice this close. Like ripe pear and rum. I can also get a good peek at her generous cleavage. Now my blood is getting heated, and my dick’s perking up. Jesus, now? I glance down at myself. What the fuck is wrong with you?
“You should’ve said something. I would’ve stayed home to meet you.” Then she lowers her voice. “Why are we squatting behind your car?”
“To stay safe, obviously,” I whisper, turning to see her better. Her violet eyes are impossibly wide, the sunlight making them shimmer like amethyst. Thick, dark lashes frame them just so, and I can see a light dusting of pale freckles across the bridge of her nose this close. Pink lip gloss glistens on her mouth, and I can’t remember what I was about to say. My pants are really tight right now. I shift a little to adjust.
“Safe? From who?” Her breath fans against my arm as she leans closer. Her silky hair tickles my skin.
I wet my lips, then say, “Horse gangs.”
She frowns like she doesn’t get it.
Bang! Another shot rings out.
The sharp crack shatters the sexy spell she cast around me, although my idiot dick stays semi-hard. “That.” I jerk my thumb in the direction of the sound.
“Oh.” She stands up. I try to
pull her back down, but she steps away. “That’s just Bobby and the boys. No big deal.”
“No big deal?”
She laughs. “I guess this is what happens when you aren’t from around here.”
I gawk at her, wondering what being from around here has to do with a murderous gang of gunslingers. Is she saying that if I were local, I’d be used to this?
I can just imagine the headline: Rock Star Murdered by Texan Bandits. No. I’m too young to die.
“They’re just having a little harmless fun out back there.”
“Harmless? They’re shooting each other!” I say.
“No, they aren’t. Besides, if they shoot somebody, that person had it coming. They’ve been at this for a while now. There’s a betting pool, but… Never mind. It’s probably too late for you to place your wager now.”
“Excuse me?” I say, struggling to process what she’s telling me as more shots are fired.
“There’s a betting pool for Bobby and the boys at Drover Hole. That’s a local bar. A great one. Anyway, you can bet on all sorts of things. Like who wins overall, or who wins overall and by how many points, and so on. It’s a lot of fun. You can try your luck in the next round. Although if you want to win, you can place your wager with me. I’ve won twelve consecutive times.” She grins.
She’s simply too adorable with that proud smile, and my dick’s more perked up. But my brain—the only thing that seems to be functioning correctly—is screaming, Alice in Wonderland. So I focus on what’s most important at the moment: our survival. “When people shoot guns indiscriminately outside like this, cops should come out to investigate! That’s why I pay taxes!” If this were Los Angeles or New York, the cops would definitely respond.
She makes a harrumphing sound. “Well, you’re new here, so you haven’t contributed a penny to the sheriff’s department.”