Desert Heat by Kat Martin Read Free Book Online

rodeo queen. It was a hot, dusty day, without the slightest breeze, but none of the cowboys grumbled. Instead, they busied themselves wrapping once-shattered wrists and sprained ankles, sliding protective vests over freshly pressed long-sleeved shirts.
    The events went off without a hitch, first bareback bronc riding followed by steer wrestling, then saddle broncs, barrel racing, and bulls.
    Shari’s ride wasn’t fast enough to make any money, but “The King,” as usual, wound up winning first place. As soon as the show was over, Patience and Shari headed into town for supplies, returning a few hours later with bedding and blankets, enough water and food for at least the next few days. Mr. Nelson, the previous owner, had left pots, pans, and a set of plastic dishes in the kitchen, so that was taken care of. Patience suggested they toss a coin for the lower berth but Shari wouldn’t hear of it.
    “Age before beauty,” she teased, being twenty-six, a whole year younger than Patience.
    They had planned to eat in that night, but Wes and Stormy stopped by and said the whole gang was going into town for Mexican food and invited them to come along. Stormy said they could all ride in Dallas’s truck, and though Patience tried to decline, in the end, she acquiesced, climbing into the backseat next to Wes.
    The big black Dodge was cleaner than she expected, the interior smelling of oiled saddle leather and traces of a man’s cologne. Shari sat in the front between Dallas and Stormy, while Wes regaled them with the men’s exploits over the years.
    “Hey, Dallas—remember that time in El Paso? That was the night you were hitting on that little brunette at the Three Jacks, that raunchy strip club downtown. Then her husband came in and started throwing punches.” He grinned at Patience. “Damned near cut off Dallas’s head with a busted beer bottle before we got the guy calmed down. ’Course it was the husband who wound up getting carried out of the place.”
    “I didn’t know she was married,” Dallas said darkly from behind the steering wheel.
    “Then there was that time in Rapid City when you—”
    “Knock it off, Wes,” Dallas warned. “We can all do without the reminiscing—unless you want me to tell the ladies about that time in Las Vegas when you—”
    “Okay, okay. I get the message.” Wes chuckled and finally fell silent and a few minutes later, they pulled up in front of the restaurant, a place on Bessemer Street called El Paquito. Several other trucks Patience recognized from the rodeo grounds were already parked outside.
    When they walked through the door, the rest of their party was seated at a long wooden table that ran the length of the room. She recognized Cy Jennings, the bullfighter, and a barrel racer named Tammy Stockton sitting next to Jade Egan.
    The El Paquito had a rustic, authentic Mexican look with a round fireplace at one end, reed ceilings, and red tile floors. Wes sat down on the bench beside her and Dallas sat across from her on the opposite side, several seats down from Jade. No one seemed to notice Jade’s frown, especially not Dallas, who appeared perfectly content where he was.
    Wes, as usual, kick-started the conversation. Shari and Stormy had been calling her P.J. all evening and Wes had begun to pick it up.
    “Hey, P.J.,” he said. “Hotshot came up with a stone bruise this afternoon. Look’s like he’ll be down for a couple of days. You interested in doing a little sight-seeing tomorrow? There’s a place called Enchanted Rock I heard about, maybe fifteen, twenty miles away. Supposed to be an interesting place.”
    Patience smiled. “Actually, I’ve read about it. It’s a big pink granite boulder on something like six hundred acres. The Indians believed it held special powers.”
    “Really?” Tammy reached over to pick up a tortilla chip. “What kind of powers?”
    “Well, they said lights flickered at the top and they could hear this eerie groaning—which, I