New Cowboy (Excerpt) by Rhonda Lee Carver

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Chapter One

“Yes. Yes. Yes! That’s it. That’s the move. Doesn’t that feel right? Move those hips. Make a circle.”

“No, it still feels off. Too tight. I told you I wouldn’t be any good at this.”

“Stop complaining and relax. Let the feeling take you. You have an amazing body, lots of core strength and perfect rhythm, that is if you allow yourself to dig deep. You’re a natural, but you just have to let go of all your inhibitions.”

Blue Dawson shook his head at the petite brunette who was staring up at him in complete instructor mode. Her eyes were wide, surrounded by long, thick eyelashes, and her plump, cherry-tinted-shiny bottom lip was tucked between her teeth while she gyrated her hips as an example.

God help him. He’d never have enough rhythm to move his hips like she could.

“Is it too late for you to find someone else?” he groaned. “It’s the smartest idea for both of us.”

With a dismissive sigh, Maggie March sashayed across the dance studio. Her firm bottom in the cute little shorts drew his attention. He practically salivated and his jeans felt tighter. There were some benefits to dancing with her. He’d been sweating buckets for the last hour trying to stay focused on all the moves and their names. To him, they were all the same—awkward.

 She switched off the music and turned back to face him with a narrowed gaze as if she worked up a lecture. Maggie had always been a confident spitfire, but the closer to the competition they got the more stressed she became, and the more she kicked his ass in the studio. When did she forget that he was doing this as a favor to her?

For a good ten seconds they had a staring contest, neither saying the obvious. Things just weren’t working. She tapped the toe of one cowgirl boot in annoyance. “How many times have we been through this, Blue?  It’s too late for me to find another dance partner. You’re locked in. You agreed we would perform in the Texas Amateur Country Dance competition and share the money. This is big. If we win, we’ll be the faces for the Master Dancing League which includes a paying contract. We’re lucky that the video we sent in earned us a place in the dance-off. Not every couple even makes it this far. But we have to practice. Competition will be stiff and you can’t win this by your good looks alone.” She reached for a towel from the stack and patted her forehead.

“That’s unfair, especially when you said my looks would be a shoe in,” he groaned, half teasing.

She lowered the towel and some of the severity left her expression. “ Your complaining and disappearing acta are two-stepping on my last nerve. Not to mention, renting this studio is by the hour. This is serious, Blue.”

“And you think I don’t get that, drill sergeant?”

There it was…the frustration returned on her soft features. 

While she unscrewed the lid to her water canister and took a long drink, he tracked his gaze down her damp white tank and got caught up for a second in the visible shadows of her nipples under the thin material. He moved his attention past her waist to the tight black shorts that landed high on her toned thighs. Her skin glistened with sweat and her cheeks were flushed, making her eyes look more lavender than usual. He deserved an award for maintaining control over his body.

He'd agreed to this lunatic dance idea for two reasons. He wanted to spend time with the woman he’d had a crush on for years and thought she might finally see him as something more than Coop’s kid brother. For the last three weeks their hands had been all over each other, skin-to-skin, their hips moving in tandem, but not exactly in the way he wanted. Although she was dressed in the least amount of clothing she could be without being naked, he still had a hankering to strip those tiny shorts off her amazing hips and do some waltzing with his tongue. He’d put a new spin on the meaning “blue balls”. Her outfits drove him wild. Hell, she could be wearing a potato sack and he’d have every intention to want to explore her.

The second reason, Jack March had asked Blue to watch over his family and the March Farm. He had no idea how long Jack would be away, but a promise was a promise and Blue intended to keep it. Even if that included dancing, which he hated. Passionately.

“Real funny.” She rolled her eyes.

“Just thought you needed reminded that this is a dance competition, not boot camp.” He strolled over to his water bottle, uncapped it and poured half of the contents over his head and bare torso. “Why does this mean so much to you? Is it the money? You never cared about those things before.”

She lowered her gaze then dragged it back up. “It just does.” She picked up a second towel and tossed it to him.

Swinging the towel over his shoulder, he recapped his bottle. “It’s getting harder and harder to sneak around.”

“Why are we sneaking? You’re a grown man. You’re not allowed to dance?”

“My brothers would never let me live this down.” He couldn’t be completely honest with her. They knew he never wanted to dance before and would see straight through him. He’d kept his feelings for Maggie a secret and if he told her now—how he’d felt  for nearly ten years—she might play the friend card and reject him. Then he’d have to face her every day knowing she didn’t want him in the same way. Yep, better to remain silent and let her make a move rather than create an unwanted storm.

“It’s only dancing. Why do they care?” Her shoulders slumped. “Yeah, you’re probably right. They would tease you. But, you have to stand up to them. They’ve always treated you like a kid.” She looked at him down the bottle as she drank thirstily.

“I need to get back to the ranch. Need a ride? I noticed your truck wasn’t outside.” He reached for his shirt off the bench and dragged the faded cotton over his head.

“Yeah, that’d be great.” She dropped down onto the bench and swapped out her boots for flip flops, then stood and swung the straps of her large bag over her shoulder. “I’m ready.”

“Your truck broken down again?” he asked once they walked out of the studio and across the parking lot.

“For the second time in a month. Last time it was the alternator. Now…I have no clue.”

He wondered if she needed the prize money from the competition to buy a new vehicle? He didn’t know her financial situation, yet a couple of years ago her mother, Penelope, had retired from her teaching job when she was diagnosed with cancer. His ma had told him Penelope was in remission.

Jogging ahead of Maggie, he opened the passenger door to his Dodge for her.

She dropped her bag on the floorboard then climbed in. “Thank you, Blue. I swear when God handed out manners he spent a little more time on you than any other man in Dove Grey.”

She was less sergeant and more the sweet Maggie now.

His heartbeat sped up, only to be zapped with her next sentence.

“I’ve always been grateful for your friendship.” She clicked the belt in place and turned her attention to her cell phone.

Always stuck in the friend zone.

Closing the door, he circled around, kicking up rocks and dirt with the toes of his dusty boots. By the time he climbed into the driver’s seat, he had his smile back into place. He started the engine, rolled the windows down, then backed out of the parking space. Once they pulled onto the street, he headed toward her farm.

Maggie tucked one leg up underneath her bottom then shifted to lean against the door, facing him. He glanced over at her, noticing her inquisitive smile. “What?”

“Are you dating anyone?”

“Nope.” Maybe they were finally making some progress in the right direction.

“My friend Brit is single. She and the deputy called it quits.”

“Too bad for Brit.” He picked up his hat and pressed it down on his head. Damn, he had a good idea where this was heading.

“You’re single too.”

“Last I checked.”

“How about you let me fix you two up on a date? I can text her.” She tapped at her phone.

And there it was…the guillotine beheading all his hopes and dreams. Any idea he had that Mags had even a modicum of feelings for him took a nosedive. All those flirty smiles, catching her subtle stares, and kisses on the cheeks were just his over-active imagination. He’d never been an expert when it came to a woman’s intentions, but he’d thought…

Wrong.

Blue needed to get it through his thick head. She’d always see him as Coop’s little brother. Although only a couple of years younger than her, Blue guessed she preferred her men older.

“Don’t bother,” he said.

“Come on. I see a wedding in the future.” She wagged her brows.

“How about we be realistic, Mags. Blind dates never work out.” He pressed on the brake and came to a stop at the red light. A couple sitting on a bench near the town center waved and he returned the gesture.

“I wouldn’t call it a blind date. You two already know each other.”

“That only makes it weirder. You fixing me up with someone I know. I’m capable of asking a woman out on a date when I see fit.”

“I’m only trying to help.” She sighed and turned to look out the window.

“I tell you what, I’ll think about it and let you know.” He had no plans of doing any such thing, but at least his answer seemed to appease her because she let the subject go.

“Has Carter set a date yet?”

This was another subject he didn’t want to discuss. Blue couldn’t figure out if his brother and Gi were faking an engagement or if they’d finally stopped denying the feelings they have for one another. Either way, Blue kept his nose out of the circus and had no intention  of putting his two cents in where Carter’s relationship, or lack of, was concerned. “Nope.”

“Gi is amazing. I love her show. She had a sex therapist on recently and she talked about why women can’t reach orgasm—” Her phone beeped.

Saved by the ding.

He had no problem talking about sex and orgasms with her, but he preferred in a different context. Like naked and in bed.

 She checked the screen and one corner of her lips dipped. He wondered who, or what, put a damper on her mood, so he asked, “Is there a problem?”.

“No.” She dropped her phone into the bag and an exhale of breath escaped her. They crossed the old stone bridge and turned onto the country road that didn’t see much traffic. “Anyway, thanks for the ride.”

The truck’s tires bounced over the potholes and he slowed. “No problem. It’d have been a long walk from the studio to the farm.”

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