Read Online Almost A Bride (Montana Born Brides) by Sarah Mayberry - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Sarah Mayberry
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might want to do or go?”
There was a pause and he could almost hear Scarlett thinking on the other end of the phone.
“The only other thing I can think of is that she said she wanted to try the mechanical bull at that place near the train line.”
Reid was pretty sure he hadn ’t heard properly. “Did you just say mechanical bull?”
“ That’s right. What’s the name of that bar on the north side of town, the one with the broken neon sign?”
“ The Wolves Den.”
He stood, unable to stay seated.
“That’s the one. They’ve got a bull there, right?”
“ I have no idea.”
He hadn ’t hung out at the Den since he’d first started to drink. Unlike Grey’s Saloon and some of the other places in town, the Den was all about getting hammered and it attracted an ugly crowd.
“ Maybe I should go over there and check. Just to put my mind at ease,” Scarlett said.
Reid had a vision of Scarlett walking through the door at the Den in her usual get -up of tight T-shirt and snug, hip-hugging jeans. There’d be drool on the bar within seconds, and the queue of guys who’d insist on buying her a drink would form to the left.
“ Why don’t I do a drive by, see what I can see?” he said.
“ You don’t have to do that.”
Yeah, he did. There was no way he was going to be able to concentrate on a freaking baseball game with pictures of Tara fending off drunken idiots or sliding off her brand new motorbike bouncing around in his head.
“I’m heading over that way anyway,” he lied. “I can duck my head in.”
“ Well, okay, then. Although I’m going to feel pretty stupid when it turns out she’s gone into Bozeman to shop or something.”
He ’d much rather Scarlett feel foolish than any of the alternatives his imagination was throwing up. That was the problem with being a cop—he had seen too many bad things over the years.
He pulled on a pair of jeans, put on his boots and shrugged into a T-shirt. Tucking his phone into the back pocket, he took the stairs two at a time. The GMC fired up with a dull roar and seconds later he was shooting up the driveway, gravel spurting beneath his tires. It was only a short drive into town, and he navigated his way from the well-lit center to the less-illuminated industrial sector north of the train line. The Den’s neon sign had lost its N years ago, and the neon blue made everything seem gray as Reid turned into the parking lot. There were a handful of motorbikes parked near the stairs to the bar, but none of them were red Suzukis.
He pulled out his phone to call Scarlett, then hesitated when he caught sight of the roof of a black pickup tucked into the corner. Tara had a black pickup.
He cruised up the aisle until he could see the number plate.
Yep, Tara ’s.
Feeling like he ’d slipped down the rabbit-hole, he parked the GMC and headed for the entrance.
Chapter Six
If anyone had asked Reid, he would have said The Wolves Den was the last place he would ever find Tara Buck.
But apparently he was wrong.
It was a Friday night and the place was crowded, people standing three or four deep at the bar. The mechanical bull was on a raised platform in the rear corner and clearly visible from the front entrance. The rabbit-hole feeling intensified as he spotted a slim, athletic figure astride the bucking beast, her blond hair whipping back and forth in the air as the machine tried to toss her.
He mouthed a four letter word and started pushing his way through the crowd, his gaze glued to Tara ’s jerking, swaying body. If she came off...
The bull was becoming more and more belligerent, spinning wildly now, throwing her back and forth. Tara had one hand high in the air, the other white-knuckle tight on the strap —and she was laughing and whooping like a good old cowgirl.
A crowd had formed around the safety barrier, cheering her on. Mostly men, Reid noted sourly. And who could blame them? Tara ’s blue tank top clung to her breasts and torso,
There was a pause and he could almost hear Scarlett thinking on the other end of the phone.
“The only other thing I can think of is that she said she wanted to try the mechanical bull at that place near the train line.”
Reid was pretty sure he hadn ’t heard properly. “Did you just say mechanical bull?”
“ That’s right. What’s the name of that bar on the north side of town, the one with the broken neon sign?”
“ The Wolves Den.”
He stood, unable to stay seated.
“That’s the one. They’ve got a bull there, right?”
“ I have no idea.”
He hadn ’t hung out at the Den since he’d first started to drink. Unlike Grey’s Saloon and some of the other places in town, the Den was all about getting hammered and it attracted an ugly crowd.
“ Maybe I should go over there and check. Just to put my mind at ease,” Scarlett said.
Reid had a vision of Scarlett walking through the door at the Den in her usual get -up of tight T-shirt and snug, hip-hugging jeans. There’d be drool on the bar within seconds, and the queue of guys who’d insist on buying her a drink would form to the left.
“ Why don’t I do a drive by, see what I can see?” he said.
“ You don’t have to do that.”
Yeah, he did. There was no way he was going to be able to concentrate on a freaking baseball game with pictures of Tara fending off drunken idiots or sliding off her brand new motorbike bouncing around in his head.
“I’m heading over that way anyway,” he lied. “I can duck my head in.”
“ Well, okay, then. Although I’m going to feel pretty stupid when it turns out she’s gone into Bozeman to shop or something.”
He ’d much rather Scarlett feel foolish than any of the alternatives his imagination was throwing up. That was the problem with being a cop—he had seen too many bad things over the years.
He pulled on a pair of jeans, put on his boots and shrugged into a T-shirt. Tucking his phone into the back pocket, he took the stairs two at a time. The GMC fired up with a dull roar and seconds later he was shooting up the driveway, gravel spurting beneath his tires. It was only a short drive into town, and he navigated his way from the well-lit center to the less-illuminated industrial sector north of the train line. The Den’s neon sign had lost its N years ago, and the neon blue made everything seem gray as Reid turned into the parking lot. There were a handful of motorbikes parked near the stairs to the bar, but none of them were red Suzukis.
He pulled out his phone to call Scarlett, then hesitated when he caught sight of the roof of a black pickup tucked into the corner. Tara had a black pickup.
He cruised up the aisle until he could see the number plate.
Yep, Tara ’s.
Feeling like he ’d slipped down the rabbit-hole, he parked the GMC and headed for the entrance.
Chapter Six
If anyone had asked Reid, he would have said The Wolves Den was the last place he would ever find Tara Buck.
But apparently he was wrong.
It was a Friday night and the place was crowded, people standing three or four deep at the bar. The mechanical bull was on a raised platform in the rear corner and clearly visible from the front entrance. The rabbit-hole feeling intensified as he spotted a slim, athletic figure astride the bucking beast, her blond hair whipping back and forth in the air as the machine tried to toss her.
He mouthed a four letter word and started pushing his way through the crowd, his gaze glued to Tara ’s jerking, swaying body. If she came off...
The bull was becoming more and more belligerent, spinning wildly now, throwing her back and forth. Tara had one hand high in the air, the other white-knuckle tight on the strap —and she was laughing and whooping like a good old cowgirl.
A crowd had formed around the safety barrier, cheering her on. Mostly men, Reid noted sourly. And who could blame them? Tara ’s blue tank top clung to her breasts and torso,
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