Come Closer, Cowboy. Debbi Rawlins

followed behind her, picking up the solid oak tables as if they weighed nothing.

      Tom joined them and the two men scoped out the spot for the bull and strategized the best way to bring it inside. They didn’t ask for her opinion, in fact they mostly ignored her. And as they maneuvered the bull through the double doors and she tried to help, she was politely ordered to stay out of the way.

      Mallory wasn’t used to being dismissed. Nor had she ever been comfortable with depending on anyone, much less strangers, to do things for her. She’d always hated asking for help, even as a kid. Luckily she was generally self-sufficient.

      Moving back to give them a wide path into the back room, she told herself this was a different culture out here. They hadn’t really dismissed her. But it was still hard not to jump into the mix as she watched these young husky guys labor under the weight of the bull. Surely it would be better with three people...

      Tom momentarily lost his footing, and she stepped forward.

      “Don’t do it, Mallory.”

      At the sound of Gunner’s voice, she started to turn around. But his hands cupped her shoulders and he drew her several steps backward, until she came up against his chest.

      She jerked free and glared at him. “Don’t do what?”

      “Get in their way,” he said, his gaze trained on the men. “You’re liable to get someone hurt.”

      Even though they were no longer touching, she could feel the tension in his body. Nothing showed in his face as he sidestepped her and whipped off his black Stetson. Her favorite.

      “Hey, guys, let me give you a hand.” He pressed the hat to her and she hugged it to her chest.

      “We got it,” Brady said, but they were obviously struggling.

      Gunner grabbed hold and they managed to carry the bull to the padding she’d had installed in the wood floor. She fought the urge to point out the bull belonged in the reinforced center, afraid they might tear the padding. She figured Gunner had already noticed and would make allowances.

      “Ready to set her down?” Gunner asked.

      “Ready,” Tom said.

      Brady didn’t answer.

      “Let’s try to avoid the padded area,” Gunner said mildly. “Now, on the count of three. One...two...three.”

      The bull landed dead center.

      Sighing with relief, she loosened her death grip on his hat.

      Tom stumbled back a step, and then let out a winded laugh. “The sucker is heavy.” He nodded at Gunner. “Thanks.”

      “We were doing just fine,” Brady said, wiping the sweat from his forehead with the back of his arm. “You didn’t need to jump in.”

      Tom shook his head. “I’m shorter than you so I was having trouble with the angle.”

      “It’s done. That’s what’s important, right?” Gunner clapped Brady on the back. “Now, what can I get you boys? How about a nice cold beer?”

      Mallory saw the startled look that passed between the two cowboys, and she wanted to give Gunner a swift kick in his rear. He had no business acting like he owned her and the bar.

      “Sure,” she said with a bright smile. “Help yourselves to whatever you want while I go pay Dexter.” She paused. “I’m sorry for not introducing you to Gunner.” She widened her smile and tossed him his hat. “My cousin is visiting for a little while.”

      “Oh.” Brady grinned and shook his hand. “I saw you last night. You just get in yesterday?”

      Gunner started to laugh, a loud belly laugh that followed her out to the sidewalk. He wanted to talk? Oh yeah, they were going to have a conversation all right. The second she saw Dexter leaning against his truck, hands stuffed in his baggy overalls, his eyelids drooping under a battered straw hat, she remembered something.

      He straightened when he saw her, his mouth lifting in a gap-toothed grin. “They get Fanny in there okay?”

      “Yes, they did.” She passed him the envelope. “Cash. Just like you wanted.”

      “Well, I reckon I don’t need to count it, do I?”

      “I’m pretty good at math. It’s all there.” She smiled. “Now, how about that demo?”

      Frowning, he pushed up the rim of his hat. “What’s that?”

      “You know, show me how to work it.”

      “Oh, good thing you said something.” He opened the driver’s door and brought out a short stack of papers, the top right corners curled up from what looked like a dried coffee stain. She hoped. Chewing tobacco seemed to be a favorite pastime with some of the men around town. It was gross.

      “This here is the manual,” Dexter said, holding the papers out to her. “Tells you everything you need to know.”

      Oh, God, there were a lot more stains. She forced herself to accept it. “Thank you,” she said. “This will help. But I’d really like you to show me—”

      “You mean get up there and ride Fanny?” He snorted a laugh. “Nooo. That’s not gonna happen. I don’t recall agreeing to anything of the kind.”

      Mallory rubbed her right temple. Yes, he most certainly had agreed, in fact he’d offered.

      “Tell you what... I’ll stick around until you get her plugged in and working.” He closed the door. “Help ease your mind some.”

      “Thank you,” she said and led him into the Full Moon.

      A bark of laughter greeted them. As they neared the back room, she heard the whir of a motor and a fair amount of squeaking. Something sure needed to be oiled.

      Of course it was Gunner sitting on top of the bull, holding on with one hand while it bucked and whirled. Brady watched from the sidelines drinking from a longneck, while Tom had the controls that tempered the speed and buck of the bull. Both cowboys were grinning like kids.

      “Can’t that thing go faster?” Brady asked, nudging Tom with an elbow to the ribs.

      “You’re welcome to get up here and see for yourself,” Gunner said, his black T-shirt stretching across his broad shoulders.

      Mallory stared at his chest and stomach. He wasn’t moving much, just holding on to the short leather strap, his other hand in the air for balance. But her gaze was caught by the way the muscles in his arms and thighs rippled with even the tiniest movement.

      Brady set down his beer. “I’ve ridden my share of ornery broncs,” he said, and flexed his shoulders and arms. “I can handle a piece of machinery.”

      “Better you get thrown now than in front of those gals from the Sundance,” Tom said, chuckling.

      “Well, heck, he makes it look too dang easy.” Watching Gunner, Dexter removed his straw hat and scratched his head.

      Mallory waved to get Gunner’s attention. “Would you please turn that off for a minute?”

      He nodded at Tom, and with a fluid grace that always made her breath catch, Gunner landed on his feet.

      She made a quick introduction. “Can you think of anything we need to ask Dexter before he leaves?”

      Gunner turned to eye the bull, showing no reaction to the error she’d made by using we. “I would’ve thought you’d have oiled that thing up before bringing it.”

      “Well, son, I surely did just that.” Dexter sounded defensive.

      “Okay. I believe you.” Gunner nodded. “But that tells me we’ve got a problem. Whatever is causing the squeaking is gonna need more work than a simple servicing.”

      Mallory hadn’t thought