Sweet Cowboy Kisses (Sugar Coated Cowboys Book 2) Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Other Titles by Stephanie Berget

  Dedication

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  A Sneak Peek at Stephanie's Other Books

  Gimme Some Sugar Excerpt

  About the Author

  Sweet Cowboy Kisses

  Sugar Coated Cowboys: Book #2

  Stephanie Berget

  This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the prior consent of the publisher in any form other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places, and incidents are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales, is entirely coincidental. All rights reserved including the right of reproduction, distribution, or transmitted in whole or part in any form or means, or stored in any electronic, mechanical, database or retrieval system, or otherwise, without the written permission of the publisher.

  Sweet Cowboy Kisses

  Copyright 2016: Stephanie Berget

  Cover Design: RM Duffy

  Other Titles by Stephanie Berget

  Change of Heart Cowboys

  Radio Rose

  Salt Creek Cowboys

  Sugarwater Ranch

  Sugar Coated Cowboys

  Gimme Some Sugar

  Sweet Cowboy Kisses

  Cowboy’s Sweetheart

  DEDICATION

  My Dad isn't a cowboy. In fact, the only time he’s

  ever been on a horse, he got thrown off on his

  head, but he’s one of the best men I know.

  Thanks for everything, Dad.

  This one’s for you with love.

  PROLOGUE

  Kade Vaughn opened his eyes to a sea of worried faces as he lay in the dirt on the arena floor. Maybe if he focused on the pretty woman leaning over him, everything would stop spinning.

  “Don’t worry, Pans. I’m fine,” he reassured her. At least that’s what he thought he’d said. For some reason, his words got tangled up as he tried to force them out of his mouth.

  “Look who’s awake.”

  Kade squinted, trying to focus. That didn’t sound like Pansy’s voice.

  “Kade, what state are you in?” The dark-haired woman watched him as her cool fingers held his wrist, taking his pulse.

  This wasn’t Pansy.

  He tried to roll to his side. Needed to get up and out of the arena before Pansy saw he’d had his bell rung again. With the slight movement, the arena floor tilted like the deck of a sinking ship.

  A hand on his shoulder prevented him from doing anything but sinking back into the dirt. Like he needed the help. Lying flat on his back was all he could manage.

  “What state, Kade?” The voice, gentle but insistent, repeated the question as she leaned closer.

  He tried for a chuckle, but it came out as more of a groan. “I’m not even sure who I am.” The woman’s image flickered, and he blinked slowly, twice.

  She smiled, but the expression held very little humor. “Kade, how many fingers am I holding up?”

  Seemed like a stupid question, but what the hell. “Four, and I’m at the college rodeo in Missoula. Did I win?” he tried to sit up, but his head—that up ‘til now had hurt like a son of a bitch—spun until he thought it’d come off his shoulders. He sank back to the arena floor with a groan.

  “Can you tell me what year is this?”

  What was with this woman and her asinine questions? “Can’t you find someone else to play Trivial Pursuit with?”

  “My mother told me not to take a job dealing with cowboys. She told me I’d regret it.” Grinning down at Kade, she asked, “The year?”

  “Two thousand eight. Just help me up, will you?” He braced his elbows against the dirt and raised his head at least an inch and a half before a brain spasm knocked him back down.

  The woman placed her hand on his shoulder. “You just lay here another minute.”

  When she stood, Kade could hear a murmured conversation. “Doc, are you ready for us to take him out of the arena?”

  “Not yet.” Apparently the woman with a thousand questions was a doctor.

  The rest of the discussion drifted away as he closed his eyes and surrendered to the Van Halen drum solo pounding through his brain.

  ~*~

  A no-nonsense voice called to Kade from beyond his stupor. “Kade, stay with me here.”

  When he opened his eyes, Doc Turner knelt beside him, her dark hair pulled back into a no-nonsense ponytail. Even after working for hours at the bull-riding event, her white knit shirt with the company logo was still pristine. “Hey, Doc. What’s going on?”

  Doctor Turner looked at least fifteen years younger than her fifty years, but Kade had learned long ago that this woman was the best physician at Western Sports Medicine, the group that cared for injured TBC bull riders.

  “Kade, where are you? What city?” The physician shifted to the side while EMTs carefully moved Kade to a stretcher.

  As they strapped him down, he smiled at her. “Top Bulls and Cowboys event in Cincinnati.” The fog that had shadowed his mind for the last little bit slowly lifted, and the pain in his head lessened a bit.

  Doc Turner grinned. “At least you’re in the right half of the country. What year is it?”

  Kade snorted then stilled. It seemed his brain retaliated for the slightest movement. “2016.”

  “Give him the prize, gentleman. He’s in the right decade.” Doc shifted so he could see her better. “We’re going to take you to the hospital and have them check out that hard head of yours.”

  “Nah, hey Doc. I’m fine. Just let me rest behind the chutes for a minute then I’ll be good to go. I got all your questions right. You said so yourself.”

  It was Doctor Turner’s turn to snort in amusement. “Not quite. We’re in Nashville. Cincinnati was last week.”

  ~*~

  The ride to the hospital was uneventful, dammit. The driver refused to turn on the siren or lights, even when Kade offered him money, and the attendant didn’t think his jokes were the least bit funny. The efficient staff at the hospital transferred him to a private room and had just finished doing all kinds of tests when his buddies arrived.

  He’d met Chewie Diaz his first day at Montana State, and they’d hit it off like they were bull-riding clones. No food was too bad or joke too lame for the two them. Lately a kid by the name of Toby Lance had taken to following them around. Toby didn’t ride too bad, did his share of driving without complaining and paid his part of the expenses, so they let him tag along.

  “Good to see you’re not dead.” A familiar grin covered Chewie’s face.

  No sympathy from this bunch, and he hadn’t expected any. In fact, the careful attention the nurses showed him made him kind of queasy. Made him wonder if he was really that bad off.

  “You ride like a girl.” Chewie punched him in the arm. “Swamp Fox must have thrown you ten feet into the air.”

  Kade relaxed a little. If his buddy was giving him a bad time, he was pretty sure he wasn’t going to die.


  “You meet any hot nurses yet?” Toby never said much, and when both men turned to their attention on him, a flush crawled up his cheeks as if he regretted speaking up now.

  When Kade didn’t answer, Chewie tossed a wadded up napkin at him. “You could play up the injured cowboy bit. Women like that.”

  “Screw you! Did I make eight?” There were some pretty nurses here, but the only thing that mattered right now was whether he’d made a qualified ride. Kade could put up with a headache for the next year if he’d finally ridden the toughest bull on the circuit.

  The grins that had been on the guys faces sobered. Toby turned away, staring out the window, and Chewie’s attention was suddenly focused on his boots.

  “What happened?” He had to ask, but he already knew. Swamp Fox had beaten him again.

  The first time he’d drawn the bull, Swamp Fox had thrown him out of the arena and into the lap of a bald, old man with a handlebar moustache. It wouldn’t have been near as embarrassing if the damned bull had aimed for the drop-dead gorgeous blonde in the second row.

  Add that to their match-up at the Finals last November when all he’d had to do was ride the big, yellow bull to become the TBC World Champion. He’d needed a qualified ride, any qualified ride in the tenth round to win it all. A forty-five would have done it, but Swamp Fox had spun him off at seven point nine seconds. He’d only needed one tenth of a second more for all his dreams to have come true.

  Kade had poured his heart and soul into his sport for the last seven years, getting better and better. With a million dollars in prize money to the year-end World Champion, all his hard work would have paid off if he’d just been able to ride the damned bull.

  Swamp Fox had stomped all over that dream.

  Chewie tugged his phone out of the back pocket of his Wranglers and pulled up a video. He handed the iPhone to Kade. “Man, I thought you had him this time.”

  The screen on the phone was small, but the video was as clear as day. The gate cracked open and Swamp Fox’s huge body rocketed high into the air with the grace of a cat. As the bull hit the ground, he slung his head to the right, trailing a long, thin line of snot.

  Kade could hear the announcer. “This ain’t no ordinary bull, folks. I heard tell his mama was a roller coaster and his daddy, a Tilt-A-Whirl.

  He’d matched Swamp Fox move for move, shifting his hips, keeping his weight centered. Just when he began to think his buddies were giving him a hard time, and that he’d ridden the bull after all, the video showed him the truth.

  With a powerful lunge, Swamp Fox threw his horns back toward his rider at the same time as Kade leaned forward to make a counter move. In the next instant, his limp body hit the dirt.

  In the who’s-got-the-hardest-head contest, Swamp Fox had won hands down.

  The moment Kade fell from his back the big bull stopped bucking. He’d stood there, a few feet away, staring at Kade as he gave his uneven horns a slow shake. “Thought you’d ride me, huh?” he seemed to say. “Take that, amateur.”

  As the clowns moved in, the video ended.

  Kade didn’t need to see it twice. He handed the phone back to his friend. “Damn.”

  Chewie leaned against the wall, his fingers in his front pockets. “Man, you almost had that big bastard. If he hadn’t thrown that head butt at you, you’d have ridden him for sure.”

  Suddenly, Kade wanted desperately to be alone. Last year, his dream had ended in the most heart-breaking way he could have imagined. Now, this year was uncertain, and he didn’t want these guys to pity him. Time to change the subject.

  He forced a grin as he looked at Chewie. “For a few minutes, I thought Pansy was there at the arena. I was afraid she was going to be mad as hell. That bull must have really knocked me for a loop.”

  Chewie looked up, finally making eye contact.

  The man was one of his oldest friends, and he was the only bull-rider Kade knew who remembered Pansy Lark.

  “Damn! Pansy? She would have kicked your ass for sure. I miss that girl sometimes.”

  No shit! So did Kade and more than sometimes.

  “Who’s Pansy?” Toby took another tentative attempt at joining the conversation. A long lost love was fair game, a guy could recover from that apparently, but a lost rodeo dream was too painful for the men to talk about.

  “She was Kade’s girlfriend in college.” Chewie looked at Kade, shaking his head. “Everybody thought he was going to marry her, but the bulls got in the way. I personally think he screwed up, big time.”

  This subject wasn’t any less painful than the last one. Kade had been thinking the same thing for a few years now. Seemed like he was always losing what he wanted most.

  He opened his mouth to change the subject once again when Toby piped up. “She dumped ya, huh?”

  On a good day, Toby rarely spoke more than five words. It was one of the things Kade like best about him, but it seemed he’d chosen today to mimic Gilbert Gottfried.

  “Even with a concussion, I can still throw both of you out of here and not break a sweat.” Kade tried to put some authority into his words, but the effort made the pounding in his head jack up.

  “I’m shaking in my boots, pendejo.” Chewie’s laughter was cut short when a white-coated doctor came through the door, followed by Doc Turner.

  Doc smiled as she shooed his friends away and swung the door closed. “Now about this head injury. I think it’s time you quit riding bulls.”

  That was out of the question. His look must have told Doc that.

  “At the very least, wear a helmet.”

  Kade managed to sit up straighter. He tried to shake his head, but the movement amplified the pounding in his brain. Instead, he glared at the doctors. “No and hell no. Is that clear enough?”

  CHAPTER ONE

  The gold beads on Pansy Lark’s Cleopatra wig tapped together as she whirled to grab a dishcloth from the sink. Clouds of acrid gray smoke filled the café kitchen while the smoke alarm blasted out its migraine-generating shriek.

  “Double dip damn!” After wrapping a damp dishtowel around her hand, she pulled the cupcake tins from the oven. Sliding the pans onto the granite counter, she rushed to the back door and threw it open, trying to dispel some of the concentrated, opaque smoke.

  Pansy emptied the charred blobs of cake into the garbage then dropped the cupcake tins in the sink. The clatter of metal against porcelain almost masked the tinkling of the bell above the café door.

  On top of burning the entire batch of tiny cakes, she had a customer.

  She tossed the towel over her shoulder and pushed open the swinging door between the dining room and kitchen, only to freeze in her tracks. “Karma, you are a colossal bitch,” she said under her breath.

  The black haired cowboy sauntered toward the counter, an oh-so-familiar smile on his face. That smile, once upon a time, had made her heart sing. “Hey there, Sweetheart.”

  Now it made her heart recoil.

  Seven years hadn’t changed him a bit. Pressed Wranglers molded to his well-developed thighs, his T-shirt hugged his shoulder muscles, his black hair curled along his collar, just the way she’d liked it. Her first inclination was to turn tail and run, but she’d run as far as she was going to for this lifetime.

  Pansy lifted her chin, and faced her worst fear—Kade Vaughn.

  The cowboy slipped onto one of the red vinyl stools that ran along the counter and brightened his smile, if that was possible. Kade had the kind of grin that caused women’s panties to fall off.

  But not hers, not anymore.

  “What’s your name, honey?” Muscles worked beneath tanned skin as he leaned his forearms on the counter and gave her his undivided attention.

  She remembered running her hands over those arms, the fine, dark hairs tickling her palms, his skin warm. Closing her eyes, she took a step back. She remembered too much about this cowboy.

  Chancing a look into his eyes, ready to tell him to leave, she stopped. He didn’t rec
ognize her, the bastard.

  To his credit—if she was forced to give him any kind of positive acknowledgement—she was about as far from the dutiful little cowgirl of her younger years as possible. And thank goodness for that.

  She didn’t need a stroll down a painful memory lane right now.

  Seven years ago, she’d abandoned the life she’d had in Montana. She hadn’t wanted to leave her horses and the thrill of running barrels, but when Kade left her and her overbearing father asked the impossible, she’d fled and not looked back.

  The day her father urged her to get an abortion was too much. Leaving the things she loved behind, Pansy had changed every detail possible about herself, including her clothing, personality and possibly her thoughts. She’d become the epitome of a city girl.

  “What can I get you?” She stepped farther into the room and folded her arms across her chest. She hadn’t seen Kade in seven years and seeing him today was about twenty years too soon. It had taken her forever to see the man as he really was, certainly not someone she could count on. He was tumbleweed, a wanderer, who was happy to let life blow him to his next adventure.

  He tilted his head as he looked at her. His eyebrows lifted as he took in the soft folds of her white dress.

  She’d made this replica of the gown Liz Taylor wore in Cleopatra, and it was one of her favorites.

  Then he raised his gaze to her gold trimmed black wig and overly made-up eyes.

  For a moment, she thought he might see beyond the costume to who she really was. That moment was gone before she could blink.

  With a slight shake of his head, he broke eye contact and grabbed a menu from the stand. “I’ll have the breakfast special, eggs over easy and the bacon just this side of burnt.”

  A jolt of unease mixed with regret shot through her when his slate gray eyes met hers.

  “Oh, and coffee. Lots of coffee.”