The Last Cowboy Standing by Barbara Dunlop Page A

bloody well cowboy up.”
    Travis grinned. Better to have too much planned than too little.
    “Paintball, it is,” agreed Travis. “Followed by dune buggy racing in the afternoon, and then Ace High for the night.”
    “The guys can all crawl to their rooms from there.”
    “We should have been party planners,” said Travis as he set his helmet down on the counter, in the shade of the porch at the rental building.
    “Party planners don’t get the girls,” Corey responded.
    “How’d it go out there?” asked the rotund, fifty-something clerk as he set his magazine down and stood to meet them.
    “Great,” Travis replied. “It’s a very exciting course. We’re looking to bring a group back with us on Friday afternoon.”
    The man pulled a clipboard down from a hook on the wall and rustled up a pen from a drawer beneath the counter. “How many in your group?”
    “About thirty. Better make it thirty-five to be safe.”
    The man’s bushy brows went up. “Thirty guys? Do they each need their own buggy?”
    “I’d plan on that,” said Travis.
    The man stepped away, opening a back door to shout outside. “Micky. Can you do thirty-five for Friday afternoon?”
    The response was muffled.
    “Well, call the parts store. Get them to overnight freight.”
    Another muffled response.
    Travis glanced at Corey, who made a show of crossing his fingers. “We don’t want to go with the river boat tour.”
    “Not unless they can guarantee models in bikinis.”
    “And that zip line seemed pretty lame.”
    Travis agreed. Though it sounded exciting to soar suspended hundreds of feet above the ground, in reality, it had been more like an amusement park ride. You had no control over anything that happened. You just hung there and watched the scenery go by.
    The dune buggy man turned back to them. “We can cover you.” He made a notation on his clipboard. “If this is a corporate event, you better check your insurance.” He handed Travis a written brochure.
    Travis glanced at it without reading. “If it’s a private event?”
    The man gave a gap-toothed grin. “Better buy yourself some event insurance. This ain’t covered under your regular homeowner’s policy.”
    “Then I guess it’s a corporate event,” said Travis. “Can we bring a credit card with us Friday?”
    “Sure thing.” The man glanced at today’s rental agreement. “Mr. Jacobs.”
    Travis reached out to shake the man’s hand. “Thanks for your help.”
    With a nod, Corey slid his helmet across the counter, and they turned to step off the low porch.
    “There’s a place called South Rim, partway back on the highway,” said Corey as they crossed the asphalt parking lot under the scorching sun. “It’s pretty laid-back, burgers and steaks. About a dozen beers on tap. Might work for lunch on Friday. You want to check it out?”
    “Sure,” Travis agreed, pressing the unlock button on his rented SUV. “I could absolutely go for a beer.”
    It was nearly five o’clock, and his other option was going back to the hotel. If he went back to the hotel, he was sure he’d go against his better judgment and start hunting around for Danielle.
    It had been a mistake to kiss her last night. He knew it then, and he knew it now. But a man could only take so much. And being alone in the dark with a beautiful, desirable woman, who scoffed at the right moments, laughed at the right moments and gazed up at him with huge, dark bedroom eyes, well, kissing her had been inevitable.
    He levered into the driver’s seat and started the engine, peeling out of the parking lot and onto the road.
    He’d relived the kiss about a thousand times already. Then he’d thought about doing it again, thought about doing even more, then he’d pulled himself ruthlessly back. Danielle was Danielle, the same woman he’d fought with for months. She had a professional relationship with his brother-in-law Caleb, another one with his sister Katrina for the Sasha Terrell