Buck (Rope 'n Ride #1) (10 page)

Chapter Seven

Channing was losing her damn mind. Wait—she was losing two little girls. Where the hell could they have gone?

She threw herself on the motel carpet, skin crawling at the thought of what filth the fibers held. “Are you under here?” She peered under the king-sized bed where she’d spent the night, not with her pretend fiancé but pinned by a three-year-old and a four-year-old. She had so many bruises from being kicked in their sleep that Buck would probably have something to say about it. And her eye socket was strangely tender this morning, making her believe she’d taken a fist—or foot—to the eye.

No little girls under the bed. Nothing but a strange old sock. Repressing a shudder, she ran around the room, whipping back curtains and even looking inside her suitcase.

“Where the hell did they go?” She’d gone into the bathroom for two minutes and come out and they were gone. Nobody had a key but her, so it wasn’t possible that Asher had come looking to take his little girls to breakfast.

A muffled giggle sounded, and she whirled. “The little shits are outside!” She was only wearing a bra and panties. Hell, were they even dressed? She grabbed the first thing she saw—Buck’s T-shirt, and threw it on while jerking open the door.

Two little dark-haired imps stood on the sidewalk like the twins from The Shining. At this point, they seemed as evil.

Channing dragged in a deep breath, almost asphyxiating herself on the exhaust from an idling truck and trailer not far away. At that moment, one of the competitors, Chip, came around the corner of his truck and spotted her.

She wasn’t wearing pants. Was this how mothers felt? If so, she didn’t relish the thought of starting a family.

“Get your little bodies in here,” she whispered angrily to the little girls, who just laughed as they ran inside.

“Howdy, Channing.” Chip lifted his hat to her.

“Hi, Chip.” She couldn’t turn around—Buck’s T-shirt probably wasn’t even covering her ass. Sliding her foot to the side, she did a funny shimmying step back to the door. But she’d forgotten her key inside and Asher’s spawn had locked her out.

Frustration lit her fuse and she turned to pound on the door, uncaring about Chip looking at her ass and bare legs. “Let me in! Montana, Maddie! Open the door!”

More giggles.

Yep, she was definitely going to figure out how to remain childless for the rest of her days. If quiet, kind Asher produced hellions like these, she couldn’t imagine what a Calhoun child would be like.

Not that she’d ever find out anyway. She and Buck were
not
getting married. Well they might have to stage a wedding but there definitely would not be a marriage license.

She groaned and pounded her forehead on the door twice. “Dammit.”

“Dammit!” one of the girls said from inside. The other one squealed and repeated it.

Great. Now I’ve corrupted them. No, they’re probably plotting to exhaust me, then kill me in my sleep.

Actually they were very sweet little things, and she’d spent hours with them the previous day, reading books and coloring together. Holding hands and walking around the rodeo grounds. She’d bought them ice cream
and
salt water taffy. This was all her fault—she’d given the Gremlins sugar and now they’d turned mischievous.

“Miss, can I help?”

She turned at the voice to find the motel clerk holding up a ring of old keys and smiling sheepishly at her.

With as much dignity as she could conjure when bested by two adorable little girls and wearing very little clothes, she drew up to her full height and nodded. As the clerk moved in to open her door for her, Chip walked back to his truck, having just left the office.

He’d saved her by telling the clerk she was locked out.

She gave him a little wave but the action made Buck’s T-shirt ride up, most likely giving Chip a cheap show. She heard the door open and the girls giggling like mad.

“Thank you so much,” she said to the clerk and hurried inside. Once the door was closed, she leaned against it and lowered her brows at Montana and Maddie. Their long, dark hair was tangled and needed a washing. They still wore their Disney princess nightgowns.

And they were smiling up at her like little cherubs.

All the frustration died inside Channing. She reached up and chained the door shut. “Why don’t we take baths and then I’ll make your hair pretty so we can go to the rodeo and see your daddy?”

“Yes! Yes!” They bounced around the room like jumping beans and clambered onto the bed to escape her. The hardest two hours of her life followed. She was drenched to the skin by the time she got them into the tub. But it didn’t matter because the girls promptly doused her with water by turning on the shower when she leaned over the edge of the tub to wash their hair.

Maddie got out, as slippery as a greased pig, and Montana made a “hurricane” in the bath. Channing made a grab for Maddie, lost her footing on the wet tile and went down hard, adding another curse word to their vocabulary.

“Fuck!” Maddie chirped.

Channing eyed her through the damp hair tumbling into her face. “We’d better not use that word again, okay? I was a bad girl to say that.”

“Say fuck?” Maddie asked.

Channing manhandled her back into the tub, doing a full-body block when Montana tried to get out next. Panting, exhausted and totally tired of this babysitting job, Channing nodded. “Let’s sing a song. What’s your favorite Disney song?”

Immediately the girls started belting a song that made Channing grind her teeth. By the time she got them dried and dressed, she looked at their wet, tangled hair. “Fuck it,” she said under her breath. She rummaged through her suitcase and came out with two bandannas, a red and a blue. She knotted them kerchief-style around each little head.

A pounding on the door made the girls sit up sharply. Channing straightened, feeling the effects of her fall in the bathroom. “Who is it?” she yelled at the door.

“Buck.”

Channing’s heart gave a hard heave and she looked from Montana to Maddie. Their dark brown eyes were wide, reminding her of two blinking owlets. “Sit here and be quiet for a minute, okay, girls?” Something in her tone must have impressed a gravity upon them because they nodded.

Buck’s tone certainly wasn’t friendly. Channing shoved her damp hair out of her eyes and went to the door. She opened it but the chain caught. She peeked out, and Buck’s face mottled red.

“What the hell are you doing, Channing? Open this door.”

“Lower your voice and I might.” She didn’t for one second appreciate him speaking to her this way.

“Why are you soaking wet? I see your fucking nipples through that shirt, Channing.”

She shot a look back at the girls, knowing their father was
not
going to be pleased by their new vocabularies.

Buck’s fingers appeared around the edge of the door. For a moment she considered slamming it on his hand, and then realized she’d begun thinking like a three-year-old too.

She unhooked the chain and barely moved out of the way before Buck burst inside. He raked his gaze over her and then threw a wild look over the motel room. It was a wreck of discarded clothes and little girl toys. But her wards were sitting like angels on the bed, side by side, looking like dolls in their kerchiefs and rodeo outfits.

Buck turned to her. “You missed my ride, Channing. What have you been doing?” Again, he let his gaze slide over her soaked shirt, which clung to her skin. He probably
could
see her fucking nipples through it. But it was his fault—it was his shirt. Next time he should buy a thicker material. One that withstood a good dowsing during a rowdy rendition of
Let It Go.

She shook her head. “What do you think I’ve been doing, Buck? Look around.”

“You look like you’ve just been ravished.”

“By a swamp monster?” She held up the twisted tendrils of hair framing her face.

His eyes darkened. Hooded.

Oh no. Not that look.
She didn’t dare glance down at his crotch. The front of his Wranglers would be bulging, and the last thing she needed right now were two little girls in this room.

“I’m going to take the girls to their daddy. You wait for me here, Channing. Do not leave the room, understand? I don’t need Chip seeing you like this too.”

Hell—so the smart-ass cowboy had run straight to Buck and told him she’d been what—flashing everybody outside the motel? No wonder Buck suspected funny business when he’d seen the way she looked.

“Come on, girls. Let’s go show your daddy how pretty Aunty Channing has made you look.” He gathered them up. They put their hands into his big ones, and they left the room like perfect angels. Leaving Channing to gape in awe, her mind spinning with visions of Buck holding the hands of their own little blonde girls.

“Fuck, I forgot my doll,” she heard from Montana before the door closed.

“We’ll get it when we come back,” Buck said with obvious surprise in his voice.

Channing collapsed on the bed, helplessly laughing.

* * * * *

Buck was having a helluva time ditching the production crew. Three cameramen were tailing him, and no matter how fast he walked, they kept pace. Getting back to Channing in that motel room alone wasn’t going to be easy.

A very damp, sexy as hell Channing. Damn, the woman had been wearing his T-shirt. Wet and molded to her breasts and waist. Her nipples and navel had been dark shadows beneath the soaked cloth. While delivering Asher’s girls to him, he’d been daydreaming of sucking those nipples through the fabric and poking his tongue into Channing’s navel.

His balls clenched. He turned a corner and spotted Chip again. The bastard always annoyed the hell out of him, but for the most part Buck stayed away from him. Many rodeo guys had god complexes, and Chip was no different. It didn’t surprise Buck that the man would hit on Channing.

Even knowing she was off-limits…

Buck pressed his lips together. She wasn’t exactly. She was single, unattached. Not that anybody knew it, but as soon as some of these guys got wind, Channing would be snapped up fast.

Buck bit off a growl, but he knew it was recorded by camera two.

“Ridge’s event is coming up soon. Why don’t you go find him? I’m sure he’s nervous as hell going up against his biggest challenger,” Buck said.

“Really? His biggest challenger?” Andrew echoed.

“Yeah. Ask him yourselves.”

As soon as they moved away from him, Buck quickened his step. He’d just lied through his teeth—Ridge didn’t have any big challengers here in Jacksonville. If he had a halfway decent bronc ride, he’d take the pot and the buckle. And probably a woman or two as a package deal. The ladies liked Ridge, which wasn’t surprising. He had a silver tongue and a lot of wins. Hell, some of these women would sleep with a potato if it had enough shiny buckles.

Buck reached the motel room door. He’d hated sleeping without Channing last night, but she’d insisted on giving Asher a free night and in taking the girls off his hands. He needed his rest, she’d said. Buck knew she was right but he didn’t like it.

He rapped on the door. No answer. He knocked again. Nothing.

“Channing!” Had she gone out? What the hell was going on?

After beating on the door for another thirty seconds, he stomped to the office and gave the clerk an intimidating glare. “I want in number eleven. Now.”

A minute later the door opened, and Buck’s heart gave a flip. Tenderness washed over him as he saw Channing lying face-down on the rumpled bed, dead asleep.

“Thank you,” he said to the clerk, tipping him.

Quietly, Buck closed the door, turning to the bed and the sleeping woman. Her golden legs were stretched out, her arms flung to the sides as if trying to take over the entire mattress.

Buck removed his hat. Unbuttoned his shirt and draped it over the dresser, which was strewn with kid crap. His chest gave an odd squeeze, knowing this could be their future together—if Channing stuck it out with him and they married for real. Their bedroom filled with abandoned toys and little hair ribbons, and he and Channing stealing a moment alone.

He kicked a toy and it went rolling under the bed. Ignoring it, he continued to remove his clothes. Channing didn’t stir, not even when he slipped in naked beside her. The touch of cold, damp T-shirt made him suck in a sharp breath but still she didn’t wake. Hell, she must be exhausted. Had she slept at all last night?

He clasped her hip and drew her onto one side to fit her against him. His cock against her warm, silky panties. Knowing Chip had seen her dressed this way made him want to break something.

Channing gave a breathy sigh in her sleep. She’d missed his ride and that hurt. Coming out of the arena after a win, searching for her beautiful smiling face and not seeing it had sliced him open. He’d been angry at first. He’d expected her there, dammit.

But when she came to watch, how did he show her that he appreciated it? He rode on by, not even grasping her outstretched hand. Last time he’d pulled that stunt, he’d watched the lights die in her eyes.