Come Closer, Cowboy

Friends with very naughty benefits...

Mallory Brandt needs a change. The kind of change that makes a gal close her Hollywood bar, move 1400 miles across the country and start a new life in Blackfoot Falls, Montana—in four weeks. Coincidentally, that’s how long her oldest friend, Gunner Ellison, has been out of the country...and since they had super-hot, tequila-fueled sex for the first time.

And man, Gunner is pissed. Mallory never returned his calls, never told him she was leaving. Now he’s shown up in Blackfoot Falls—and he’s not leaving until he gets answers. Only problem is, their searing chemistry keeps getting in the way, distracting them both from the feelings they’re afraid to acknowledge...and the fact that their friendship will never be the same!

“Friends, right?”

“With or without sex?”

Mallory sighed.

Gunner smiled slowly. “Okay,” he said, releasing her arm and offering his hand. “No sex.”

The second she grasped his hand, he tugged her into his arms.

She felt so good against him, warm and soft and real. He lowered his mouth to hers, and their tongues touched. A soft, helpless moan came from the back of her throat, lighting a fire in his belly that tested his self-control.

If he got any harder he was going to explode.

A firm shove to his chest sent him back a step.

“What’s wrong with you?” Mallory glared at him. “We just agreed to be friends, no sex.”

“Kissing isn’t sex.”

She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling. Gunner tried not to stare. Or think about how sweet she’d tasted.

God, he wanted her...and he’d do whatever it took to get her back in his bed.

Dear Reader,

Welcome to all of you who are new to my Made in Montana series! As for the rest of you “old-timers,” you’ll be surprised at some of the changes around Blackfoot Falls.

Right before starting this book, I was thinking about a few of the characters we’ve met and others whose stories I want to tell, and it hit me. I’ve been an absolute terrible hostess. There are only two places where people can eat and drink in the whole town. That might’ve been fine after the economy tanked and before the McAllisters opened the dude ranch, but too much has happened since then.

Kids who went off to college or set out to see the world have been coming home. Tourism is on the rise, and Hollywood’s renewed interest in Westerns has brought film crews to capture the beautiful, untamed land at the foot of the Rockies.

I couldn’t have everyone rebelling and moving to Kalispell, so I had to do something quick. California bar owner Mallory Brandt seemed like a good candidate to stir things up on Main Street. The night she opens the Full Moon Saloon, Gunner Ellison, her best friend—and the one man she never should’ve had sex with—shows up, determined to win her back.

There’s a special place in my heart for this couple, even with all the trouble they gave me. I hope you enjoy their story.

All my best,

DEBBI RAWLINS grew up in the country and loved Western movies and books. Her first crush was on a cowboy—okay, he was an actor in the role of a cowboy, but she was only eleven, so it counts. It was Houston, Texas, where she first started writing for Harlequin, and now she has her own ranch...of sorts. Instead of horses, she has four dogs, four cats, a trio of goats and free-range cattle on a few acres in gorgeous rural Utah.

MILLS & BOON

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Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

1

2

3

4

5

6

7

8

9

10

11

12

13

14

15

16

17

18

19

Extract

Copyright

1

MALLORY HAD DISAPPEARED. Without a single word. Without so much as leaving a voice mail.

Gunner Ellison stood at the open door to the Renegade and slipped off his sunglasses. He’d expected to see her standing behind the bar just like always, staring back at him with those sexy green eyes and that killer smile. But the place was empty. The solid oak tables and chairs were gone. So was the pool table, the jukebox and the dartboard. In the window was a sign that said Closed for Good.

Too many sleepless nights and the long plane ride had nearly knocked him on his ass. Exhausted, Gunner rubbed his eyes, hoping this was nothing but a bad dream. Then he took another bleak look around.

Everything. Gone.

He just didn’t get it. She still had another week left on her lease. They’d talked about her raising drink prices in order to meet the steep rent hike. Other stuntmen he worked and drank with, and even the bikers who crowded her Valencia bar at all hours, none of them would’ve cared. Not if it meant keeping Mallory in business.

This was crazy. They were friends, damn it, and he’d offered to help her. Couldn’t she have waited for him to get back before giving up the place?

He’d been working on location in Argentina for four weeks. They’d talked a couple times after he’d first gotten there. But then she’d stopped taking his calls. And he had a terrible feeling he knew why.

They’d had sex. In the back room the night before he’d left. On the pool table, against the wall and maybe even on the old oak bar itself.

They’d both had a few drinks, though he hadn’t been too drunk when he’d pulled her into his arms. Maybe she’d been more wasted than he’d thought—she rarely had more than a beer around closing time—but something about that night had made them wild for each other. Tearing at each other’s clothes. Slow, deep kisses until neither of them could breathe. He’d tried to figure it out. Every night as he’d lain awake, remembering the taste of her, or the way she’d moaned.

“Can I help you, mister?” An older man wearing stained work clothes and mopping his bald head came from the back room.

“Any idea when the Renegade closed?”

“We started remodeling over a week ago. Got called at the last minute.”

Gunner swept a final gaze around the room. For ten years he’d been coming here. The place held a lot of memories, not just of Mallory. He’d felt like he belonged here after he’d gotten his shot in the stunt business. Coop, Mallory’s dad, had been a stuntman himself, hurt bad before he opened the bar. But he and the other guys who’d hung out at the Renegade had made Gunner, a damn rookie in the Stuntmen’s Association, feel like one of them.

Mallory had taken over the day after Coop’s funeral. It was going on six years now, but the place had been her home since her mother had run off.

“Well, mister, I’m afraid you’re gonna have to leave. It’s quitting time and I’m locking up.”

Gunner nodded. He’d forgotten the guy was there.

Pulling out his phone, he headed for his truck. He tried Mallory. And was sent straight to voice mail. She was really starting to piss him off.

He drove to her apartment on Rye Canyon, anger simmering in his gut. He was too exhausted for this bullshit. So they’d had sex. Didn’t mean they had to avoid each other.

Though he’d never been inside, he knew her unit was on the ground floor at the end. He didn’t see her car and cruised past a U-Haul truck that was blocking his view.

Gunner slowed when he saw a young woman with dark hair carrying a box into the apartment. Mallory’s apartment. His heart jumped a few gears and shot into overdrive.

When the woman emerged and headed to the U-Haul, Gunner lowered his window. “Excuse me. A friend of mine used to live in your apartment. Do you have any idea where she moved?”

She paused a moment. “I think Montana.”

Montana? What the hell? Who did Mallory know in—

Shit. “Hey, thanks,” he said, and pulled out. At the next corner, he stopped and grabbed his phone.

He didn’t have many people on speed dial, but Ben Wolf was one of them. If Mallory had moved to Montana it was because of their friend Wolf. After Gunner got some answers, then maybe he’d be able to get a good night’s sleep. Without dreaming of Mallory’s long, slender legs wrapped around his waist.

* * *

“IS THERE ANY chance at all you can still get here by this evening?” Mallory Brandt asked, then held the phone a foot away from her ear. The man had to be near deaf. His voice was so loud she could’ve heard him from the back room.

“No, ma’am. It’s my truck,” Dexter said. “The brakes are shot. Gotta get them replaced.”

“Okay.” Granted, she knew nothing about cars, but she suspected his brakes hadn’t suddenly crapped out without warning. When she’d responded to his ad for the used mechanical bull, Dexter had promised he could deliver it by today. “So, that means...what?”

“Mebbe you can borrow a vehicle and pick Fanny up yourself,” Dexter said, a shrewd dip in his tone. “I’ll knock off forty bucks.”

Mallory rubbed her bloodshot eyes. So that’s what this was about...he’d decided he didn’t want to drive the seventy miles to Blackfoot Falls. “Not possible,” she said, wondering if he knew that a bull was male. “New brakes can’t be cheap. Maybe you can borrow another truck and deliver Fanny. That way you’ll have money to pay for your repair.”

Dexter sighed. “Mebbe tomorrow.”

“Let me know.” She disconnected the call and kept her cussing to a low murmur.

She was alone in the front of the bar. Mike, the finish carpenter, was tending to a few details in the back where the bull would be set up. If the stupid thing ever made it. Damn, she’d really wanted it here for opening tonight.

Oh, well, she’d been warned that people operated at a slower pace here in northwest Montana. She shouldn’t let a minor delay annoy her. Everything had gone smoothly with the renovations. The big old saloon had sat empty and neglected for fifteen years according to Sadie, who owned the Watering Hole, the only other bar for miles, and who was also the mayor.

When Mallory had questioned the need for another drinking establishment, she was assured she’d have all the business she could handle. Things were looking up in the small town. The ranchers who’d suffered from the poor economy had begun hiring men again. Other changes in the area had brought some tourism, and a film crew was shooting a Western miniseries around the foothills of the Rocky Mountains.

After three weeks, she was still in awe of them. Of course she’d seen the Rockies many times in movies and in photos. But here, all she had to do was step outside the bar for a perfect view of the snowcapped peaks unfazed by the July heat.

No wonder the area drew directors and location scouts—with a little help from Ben, an ex-stuntman she’d gotten to know at the Renegade. He’d quit stunt work to buy a ranch and raise movie stock. He’d talked up the beauty of Montana and word had spread.

Kind of ironic, Mallory thought as she skimmed her hand over the newly varnished oak bar, that she had come fourteen hundred miles to get away from Hollywood and it just might be those same folks who’d keep her in business.

No, not true. She hadn’t been trying to escape Hollywood. Just Gunner. And ridiculous California rents. Mostly Gunner, though.

God, she was such an idiot.

If she hadn’t wanted to, there wouldn’t have been enough tequila in the world to get her so drunk she’d have sex with him. Though she’d had no problem letting him think otherwise. But yes, she’d known exactly what she was getting herself into, and she’d done it anyway. Just yanked off her shirt. Let him peel off her jeans, then helped him pull down his.

And then she’d been in his arms, his strong, muscled arms, being lifted onto the pool table, his hot, demanding mouth making her his slave. Not for life. She had some pride.

But holy hell.

The very least he could’ve done was be a lousy kisser. How easily she could’ve pushed him away then. Kissing was key. If a guy didn’t pass that test, he was dead to her.

Wow, but Gunner... What he could do with that clever mouth of his...

She gulped in a lungful of air. Great. She was getting warm just thinking about it. Which wasn’t good considering she’d been trying very hard to forget that night.

She picked up the piece of notebook paper with her formidable to-do list on it and fanned herself. No use pining over him. Gunner was the type of man who belonged to all women, not just one. She’d known that even before she’d snatched that forbidden taste. And he didn’t seem to mind taking advantage of the many offers slipped to him with a whisper or a glance, a blatant invitation.

In all fairness, she had to admit he never encouraged the attention. But at six foot two with those broad shoulders, wavy dark hair and that sexy baritone, women took notice.

Basically, he was one of those rare and fortunate men who didn’t have to work at being hot. Yes, he took fitness seriously, but keeping in shape went with his job.

Well, she didn’t have to worry about Gunner popping in and catching her off guard, or watching women throwing themselves at him anymore, now, did she?

Sighing, Mallory glanced around her new bar with equal parts satisfaction, anxiety and sadness. By working at a breakneck pace since day one, she’d fallen into bed each night too exhausted to allow for second thoughts.

But she had a few lurking in the back of her mind. While her LA customers weren’t really friends, they were her people. She’d known many of the old scoundrels her whole life. And she missed them. Missed the same stupid jokes they’d told a million times, missed the teasing winks and good-natured arguing over darts or cards.

And she’d disappointed all of them. She knew that for a fact, and it hurt. Because all of this was her fault. No, she couldn’t have afforded the new rent, but she hadn’t even shopped around for a new place in the area or explored other options.

Whether or not she adjusted to life in Blackfoot Falls she was here to stay. She’d sunk everything she had into this place.

All because she’d crossed a line that night, a line she could never uncross. And now she wanted Gunner with a burning ache that wouldn’t ease. Her only hope was that time and distance would cure what was seriously ailing her. And if she was really lucky, she’d stop feeling so shitty for not returning his calls.

“Things must be going well if you’ve got time to stand there gathering wool.” Sadie had slipped in without Mallory hearing the door. Which meant Mike must’ve oiled the hinges. The man was a godsend. Sadie frowned. “You poor child. You don’t even know what that means.”

“Yes, I do. I was just...” Mallory sighed. “I don’t know what I was doing. I’m probably in shock. If I pass out can I count on the honor system tonight?”

Sadie chuckled. “Everything looks real nice,” she said, inspecting the room, her gaze lingering on the Full Moon Saloon banner Mallory had put up above the mirrors behind the bar and, right under that, a sign that said No Fighting, or You Will Be Banned. Sadie smiled with approval. She might look like a classic grandma. Inside she was made of pure steel. “I’m glad you brought those oak tables and chairs with you. They match the bar like they were made for each other. I see the jukebox and pool table got here. What about the mechanical bull?”

“No.” Mallory pressed her lips together to stop a curse. Even though she’d heard Sadie cut loose on a cocky young cowboy at the Watering Hole.

“That might not be a bad thing,” Sadie said. “I’m guessing you’ll have all you can handle tonight. Who have you got coming in?”

“Elaine. She’s the only waitress I hired.”

“Oh, honey, my place is half this size and I have three gals. You’ll be plenty busy, I can guarantee you that.”

“My old bar was about the size of the Watering Hole and I worked mostly by myself. Pouring, serving, you name it. But I’m pretty quick.”

Sadie gave her a dry look.

“No offense.”

She just smiled.

Mallory guessed the woman was about the same age as her mom. But Sadie had done more for her in the past three weeks than Mallory’s mother had seen fit to do in the twelve years she’d bothered to stick around.

“Sadie, have I told you how much I appreciate what you—”

“Yes. About a hundred times. Now hush.” Sadie gestured at the floor. “Lord knows how you put a little gleam in that pine but it won’t last long. Have you noticed some of the boots on these cowboys? I had to put down heavy-duty mats.” She snorted. “They wouldn’t stop three seconds to stomp off the dry mud.”

Mallory grinned. “I bet you didn’t let them get away with that.”

“Hell, no. I refused to serve them.”

“Now, I sure hope you’re not talking about me, Mayor Thompson,” Mike said, coming from the back room with a loose stride and an easy smile.

Sadie turned to look at him. “Don’t you Mayor Thompson me, young man. Sorriest decision of my life, running for office. I should’ve let that old windbag Leland keep the damn job.”

“Then where would we be? He would’ve shot down the Hollywood people. You’re helping the town make some money without letting it be overrun.”

“You two might be the only folks who believe that.”

“Lots of people are on your side, Sadie.” Mike unbuckled his tool belt. “It’s the naysayers making all the noise. Nothing new there. I need to grab some lunch. You wanna come, Mallory? I know you haven’t eaten.” He glanced at Sadie. “You, too. I’m buying.”

Mallory pressed a hand to her nervous tummy. “No, thanks.”

Mike looked as if he was about to argue, then reconsidered. “Sadie?”

“No, but I’ll walk you out. I’ve got a meeting in five minutes.” She studied Mallory. “At least let Mike bring something back for you. The day is just gonna get crazier.”

“I know, but I have a hundred new glasses to wash and stack,” she said, ripping open the box sitting in front of her and grinning. “I’ve gathered enough wool for now.”

Sadie laughed. “Then we’ll just get out of your way,” she said and prompted Mike to go ahead of her. As soon as he turned for the door, she glanced back and mouthed, “He’s single.”

And sweet as pie.

So Mallory had heard. From Louise, who owned the fabric and craft store, along with her friend Sylvia. Also from the Lemon sisters, twins in their eighties, who were as cute as could be...when they weren’t arguing.

She pulled out a set of glasses and got another glimpse of Mike before the door closed. He was tall, good-looking and the most easygoing man she’d ever met. He owned a ranch but when times had gotten tough, he’d picked up carpentry jobs to make ends meet. Recently he’d gone back to raising cattle full-time. Yes, she was paying him for the work, but he was doing her a favor.

Mike really was a terrific guy.

He just wasn’t Gunner.

2

AT 6:00 MALLORY opened the heavy wooden doors of the Full Moon Saloon. She was officially open for business and damned if Sadie hadn’t been right. A dozen people were already waiting on the sidewalk.

Mostly cowboys, three of them chatting up guests from the Sundance dude ranch. She didn’t know that for a fact, but the women who tended to stay there were pretty easy to spot.

“Come on in,” she said. “Your first drink is on the house.”

A couple of energetic hoots made her smile as she stepped out of the way. They wasted no time filing inside, so she started for her post behind the bar while checking out the footwear. The men’s boots were clean—some looked new. All except for the short dusty cowboy who ignored the women and went straight for a barstool.

Yep, he would be the one who screwed up her floor.

Elaine was already filling pitchers with beer by the time Mallory got herself stationed by the bowls of garnish. The lemons and limes were cut into wedges. Sadie warned she’d go through the limes quickly. As for the olives and cherries, Mallory stocked only a couple bottles of each.

Although she really hoped she wouldn’t need them. Beer and shots had been the staples at the Renegade. Gin and tonic, rum and Coke, the obvious drinks were no problem. But her knowledge of fancy cocktails was shaky at best.

“Who wants pitchers?” Elaine yelled so loud, Mallory nearly jumped out of her jeans.

Several hands went up.

Mallory had wondered how the waitress had taken orders so fast, not that she minded the casual approach. It was comforting, actually. If she closed her eyes she could’ve been back home. After Elaine loaded her tray, Mallory took over the tap and filled a mug for the guy sitting at the bar.

“Hey, cool name. I love Full Moon Saloon.” A petite blonde walked up and leaned against the bar as she studied the bottles of liquor on the shelves behind Mallory.

She still wasn’t sure about the name. Days after she’d come up with it and tested it on Ben and Sadie, Mallory had recognized the subconscious link to Gunner. To that fateful night. She’d specifically remembered the moon was full because of her desperate attempt to explain her stupid error in judgment. Lots of crazy stuff happened on nights with full moons. Ask any cop.

“Let’s see...” The blonde leaned closer, squinting at the bottles of flavored tequila. “Do you have Jell-O shots?”

Mallory held in a groan.

“Oh, for God’s sake, this is our first night. Give us a break,” Elaine said as she returned to fill more pitchers. “Order a real drink.”

The blonde’s eyes widened.

Mallory had to look away. With her fickle mood, if she started laughing there was no telling when she’d stop. Of course she’d liked the thirtysomething waitress—that’s why she’d hired her. But she liked Elaine twice as much now.

“You must be related to Sadie,” Mallory muttered under her breath while reaching around Elaine for her order ticket.

She grinned. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

“Yep.”

“Um, excuse me,” the blonde said, and feeling duly ashamed—the woman was a customer, after all—Mallory gave her a smile. “Could you define ‘real drink’?”

Mallory tried not to look at Elaine. She really did. But their eyes met, briefly, and that was all it took. A laugh tickled the bottom of her throat as it forced its way up. For crying out loud, she wasn’t the giddy type. Exhaustion and nerves were to blame.

She had to get a grip. Another dozen or so people had entered the bar. They would never catch up if she didn’t put an end to this foolishness.

“How about a margarita?” Mallory asked the blonde who was looking impatient.

“Frozen?” she asked with a hopeful smile.

Mallory sighed. “Sure,” she said and nodded at the cowboy with the filthy boots, who was motioning for another beer.

For the next two hours, she and Elaine were so slammed they didn’t have time to look at each other, much less speak. Good thing. If Elaine had a moment to think she’d probably quit. And Mallory wouldn’t blame her. Every time the door opened, Mallory cringed. She sure didn’t need any more business tonight. Or any other night until she hired additional help.