The Last Cowboy Standing by Barbara Dunlop Page B

Fund.
    Nothing had changed between them. He’d found Danielle sexy as soon as he’d met her. She found him coarse and unrefined. She didn’t like his sense of humor, thought his perspective was limited, thought he was and always would be a hick cowboy from backwater Colorado.
    It was all true, and no amount of sexual attraction was going to change any of that. Which meant nothing more could happen between them.
    He smacked a hand down on the steering wheel in frustration.
    “What?” Corey turned to look.
    “Nothing.”
    “You don’t want to go to the South Rim?”
    “The South Rim is fine. I’m hungry, and I’m damn sure thirsty.”
    “Well, okay, then.”
    Brimming with pent-up energy, Travis ignored the double line on the highway, pulling out to pass a semi as they wound up a hill. A pickup suddenly crested the rise, and he slammed the brakes, dumping his speed and pulling back behind the tractor trailer. Both the semi and the pickup driver leaned on their horns.
    Corey gripped the handrail on the ceiling of the SUV. “Well. That was exciting.”
    “They need more passing lanes,” Travis grumbled.
    “We should have let you take another lap on the dune buggy.” Corey sat back. “Work whatever the heck it is out of your system.”
    Travis knew what he needed to work this out of his system, and no motor vehicle could help him. He found his mouth flexing in a wry smirk. What he needed, he couldn’t have.
    “What?” Corey asked again.
    The double lines ended, replaced by a single, broken line, and he ducked out to check for oncoming traffic. This time he could definitely make it. He stepped on the accelerator.
    “I think whiskey’s my best bet,” he called to Corey as the engine revved higher.
    “That sounds like girl trouble to me,” Corey called back, hand gripping the handle again.
    “It is girl trouble,” Travis admitted.
    “Back home?”
    “In Vegas.” He pulled back into the right lane, backing off and letting his speed drop down again.
    “You’ve only been here two days.”
    “I work fast.”
    “Parking lot’s coming up on your right. Past the motel and the park. The green sign.”
    Travis slowed, flipping on his signal light, and pulling to the shoulder so he wouldn’t slow the semi down as it built up speed on the downhill grade.
    The South Rim was a long, low brown building, perched on the side of a canyon. The floorboards on the deck squeaked under their boots as they made their way to an oversized, red door. Travis opened it to reveal a dim room with a polished, red wood bar, heavy tables and comfortable looking leather chairs, all surrounding three well-kept pool tables.
    On the far side, glass doors led out to a deck that overlooked the canyon. The deck was dotted with low, planked tables and Adirondack chairs, turned toward the view. Vintage rock music gave a muted backdrop from overhead speakers, while the smell of grilling burgers hung in the air.
    “Go ahead and grab a table,” called a thirty-something woman from behind the bar. She was wearing a white blouse over a pair of black slacks, with her hair pulled back in a neat ponytail.
    A dozen of the thirty or so tables were occupied, and a few people sat out on the deck. Two men shot a game at one of the pool tables. It was obviously an adult crowd, and conversation seemed cheerful and relaxed.
    “You want to shoot a game?” asked Corey as he ambled toward a table.
    “Sure.” Travis dropped his hat on a chair and rolled up the sleeves of his white-and-gray checked shirt.
    Realizing how much sand and dust had clung to him from the dune buggy ride, he headed for the men’s room to take off a layer. Looking at himself in the mirror, he couldn’t help but be impressed that none of the staff had turned their noses up as he and Corey walked in.
    By the time he got back to the table, the waitress had produced glasses of ice water and a couple of menus. Travis ordered a beer and selected a pool cue.
    “Hi there,” came a