Cowboy Casanova - Lorelei James [1]
“Fuck off. No, a couple of the new, single teachers have asked her about you.”
“Teachers? Definitely not my type.”
“Why not?”
He patted Bongo’s withers. “I have a hard time believing a teacher would make a good student.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
Thinking out loud always got him in trouble. “Nothin’. I’m just touchy about all of our damn family members, including your wife, thinking I need to be paired up and married off now that Chase and Ava have tied the knot. Not everyone wants to be chained down with a wife and kids.” From the corner of his eye, he noticed Quinn bristle. “Sorry. Between our married relatives lookin’ at me like a loser terminal bachelor, and the single chicks at the local bars angling to tame one of the last wild McKays, I’m better off finding my hookups in Gillette.”
“I gotta be honest, it’s good to hear you’re hooking up with women.”
“Why’s that? You worried I’m secretly craving cock?”
Quinn shook his head. “I wouldn’t give a shit if you were. But it’s been so long since I’ve seen you with a date you can’t blame me for wondering what kind of woman is worth the drive.”
An obedient woman.
Not that Ben could explain that, either. He grinned. “A woman who doesn’t want more than a night or two.”
His brother laughed. “Daylight’s a’wastin’. Get a move on. I’ll finish up.”
“Thanks, bro. See you Sunday.”
Ben sped home. A shower and a change of clothes put him in a good mood and he whistled while he packed for the weekend. House secured, he headed to the barn to refill the dogs’ food and water bowls. Ace and Deuce leveled baleful looks at him. “You mutts are spoiled livin’ in the house.” He petted their heads. “Be good guard dogs, ’kay?”
An hour later, Ben cruised down Main Street in Gillette and parked in the back lot behind the Rawhide Bar. When he crossed the alley, the streetlight sizzled and popped before it flickered out, putting the doorway in shadow.
The left door was the back service entrance to the Rawhide Bar. But the slightly recessed door on the right was the entrance into the Rawhide Club—not that it was marked as such. A keycode was required to enter, a code that changed every weekend. Ben scrolled to the text from Cody and punched in the number, watching as the green light flashed.
A short set of stairs ended at a wide landing. The door was manned by security on Friday and Saturday nights. Because security and anonymity were paramount to club members, Ben was surprised the door was propped open with a barstool and he could wander in, unimpeded.
The large main room, decorated in gold and red, harkened back to brothels in the Wild West. An ornate horseshoe-shaped bar dominated the back corner. The floor to tin ceiling barback consisted of gilded mirrors and glass shelves. A sizeable brick and slate fireplace took center stage on the opposite wall. Several old-fashioned velvet, leather and brocade couches were placed in a semi-circle in front of it. Other chairs and loveseats separated the outer space into individual seating areas. Room dividers also created intimate, hidden spots. At the far back of the room was a hallway that split into two sides.
The high-pitched whine of the vacuum cleaner stopped and Sully strode into view. “Bennett!” He pulled him in for a one-armed man hug. “Good to see you.”
“You too. I was beginning to wonder if I was the only one here.”
“Nah. Cody’s cleaning up a mess in the hallway. Murphy is next door, counting the till. Want a beer?”
“Wouldn’t say no.”
Sully slipped behind the bar. “It’s been a while.”
“Sorry I haven’t been around.”
“No worries. Been slow in the club.” Sully popped the top on a bottle of Moose Drool.
Ben settled on the stool. “What about the bar?”
“The bar side always stays busy.”
“That’s gotta make Cody and Trace happy.” He took a pull off his beer. “What’s new with you?”
Sully shrugged and loosened his tie. “Not much. Keeping my head above water at the day job. I sling drinks one night a week at the bar to give Cody a break. I’ve been on overseer status