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    City Country
    City Country
    City Country
    Ebook297 pages4 hours

    City Country

    By BA Tortuga

    ()

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    About this ebook

    Traditional cowboy Cotton and tattooed Emmy couldn't be more different. That's part of their attraction, but different worlds can make for a lot of heartache.

    Emmy doesn't really like cowboys. She might be from Texas, but she's a city girl, truly invested in keeping Austin weird, just like the slogan says. With her corsets and tattoos, she stands out at the western bar where she ends up after being abandoned by her friends. That might be why she catches the attention of Cotton, who's a bull rider by trade, and definitely a cowboy. Cotton thinks Emmy might be the most fascinating girl he's ever met. She's not a cowgirl, and she's not model skinny, but she's beautiful and smart and he wants her like he's never wanted anything before.

    As one date turns into months of seeing each other in between bull riding events, Cotton starts to think that Emmy is the all-important One. Cotton's friends and family might not be so sure, though. As Emmy's life starts to unravel around her, Cotton has to fight his fears and his confusion to prove to Emmy that city and country might just be able to work after all.

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherTotally Bound Publishing
    Release dateSep 15, 2015
    ISBN9781784307233
    City Country

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      Book preview

      City Country - BA Tortuga

      Page

      City Country

      ISBN # 978-1-78430-723-3

      ©Copyright BA Tortuga 2015

      Cover Art by Posh Gosh ©Copyright August 2015

      Edited by Sue Meadows

      Totally Bound Publishing

      This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

      All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Totally Bound Publishing.

      Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Totally Bound Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

      The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

      Published in 2015 by Totally Bound Publishing, Newland House, The Point, Weaver Road, Lincoln, LN6 3QN

      Totally Bound Publishing is a subsidiary of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

      Warning:

      This book contains sexually explicit content which is only suitable for mature readers. This story has a heat rating of Totally Sizzling and a Sexometer of 3.

      Roughstock Sweethearts

      CITY COUNTRY

      BA Tortuga

      Book one in the Roughstock Sweetheart series

      Traditional cowboy Cotton and tattooed Emmy couldn’t be more different. That’s part of their attraction, but different worlds can make for a lot of heartache.

      Emmy doesn’t really like cowboys. She might be from Texas, but she’s a city girl, truly invested in keeping Austin weird, just like the slogan says. With her corsets and tattoos, she stands out at the western bar where she ends up after being abandoned by her friends. That might be why she catches the attention of Cotton, who’s a bull rider by trade, and definitely a cowboy. Cotton thinks Emmy might be the most fascinating girl he’s ever met. She’s not a cowgirl, and she’s not model skinny, but she’s beautiful and smart and he wants her like he’s never wanted anything before.

      As one date turns into months of seeing each other in between bull riding events, Cotton starts to think that Emmy is the all-important One. Cotton’s friends and family might not be so sure, though. As Emmy’s life starts to unravel around her, Cotton has to fight his fears and his confusion to prove to Emmy that city and country might just be able to work after all.

      Dedication

      To Barbara—I will always love Austin, and I will always miss you.

      Hey, y’all! The Roughstock world is a labor of love for me. Cowboys are my weakness, after all, and Texas will eternally be where my heart lives, so it’s incredibly important to me to be as honest and true to the culture I was raised in as I can. I want to say that, despite the best efforts of my editor, I take a great many liberties with language in this universe, both in narrative and in dialog. I felt I really needed to portray the rough and tumble world of bull riding and rural Texans as I know them, instead of attempting to polish the narrative up and give it a more literary style. So, with that in mind, any and all mistakes in the text are mine and mine alone.

      Also, if you’re following along with the Roughstock series, as well as the Roughstock Sweethearts, you might want to hold off reading this title until you’ve read And A Smile and File Gumbo.

      Cowboy up, y’all! Come take a ride with me.

      Much love, y’all.

      B.A.

      Trademarks Acknowledgment

      The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

      Dukes of Hazzard: Warner Bros. Television

      Doc Martens: Permira

      The Wizard of Oz: Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer

      Shiner: Spoetzl Brewery

      Stetson: John B. Stetson Company

      Bugs Bunny: Warner Bros. Cartoons

      Coke: The Coca Cola Company

      Threadgills: Eddie Wilson

      Best Western: Best Western International, Inc.

      Nintendo DS: Nintendo Co., Limited

      KY: Reckitt-Benckiser

      Bomb Pop: Blue Bunny

      Blackburn’s: T J Blackburn Syrup Works

      Log Cabin: Pinnacle Foods

      Mrs. Butterworth’s: Pinnacle Foods

      Schoolhouse Rock: Disney-ABC Domestic Television

      Alamo Drafthouse: Alamo Drafthouse Cinema

      Conjunction Junction: Disney-ABC Domestic Television

      Father, Son and Lolly: Disney-ABC Domestic Television

      Wranglers: VF Corporation

      iTunes: Apple, Inc.

      iPhone: Apple, Inc.

      Marlboro Man: Leo Burnett Worldwide

      ESPN: ESPN Inc.

      I Wanna Be a Cowboy: Nick Richards and Brian Chatton

      Southwest: Southwest Airlines Co.

      Facebook: Facebook, Inc.

      FedEx: Federal Express Corporation, Inc.

      Tylenol: McNeil Consumer Healthcare

      The Matrix: Warner Bros.

      VW Bug: Volkswagen Group

      Whataburger: Whataburger

      Wal-Mart: Wal-Mart Stores, Inc.

      Super 8: Super 8 Worldwide

      Doctor Pepper: Dr Pepper Snapple Group

      Cranapple: Ocean Spray

      Domino’s: Domino’s Pizza, Inc.

      Mad Dog: 20/20 Wine Company

      iPod: Apple, Inc.

      Thermos: Thermos L.L.C.

      Jingle Bells: James Lord Pierpont

      Bud: Anheuser-Busch

      Twitter: Twitter Inc.

      Sheraton: Starwood Hotels & Resorts

      Photoshop: Adobe Systems

      Burger Tex: Burger Tex

      Toyota: Toyota Motor Corporation

      Place d’Armes: Valentino French Quarter Hotels

      Cafe du Monde: Fernandez Family

      Cheshire Cat: Lewis Carroll

      Mason jars: Jarden Corporation

      McDonald’s: McDonald’s Corporation

      Slim Jims: ConAgra Foods, Inc.

      Oreos: Cadbury (Mondēlez International)

      Jack Daniel’s: Brown-Forman Corporation

      Depends: Kimberley-Clark Corporation

      Chapter One

      You’ve got to be fucking kidding me, Em.

      Emily was going to beat her best friend to death. With a hammer. A dull, rusty hammer. Oh, stop it, would you? My fucking feet are tired, Ricki, and I want a goddamned beer.

      Ricki’s kohl-rimmed eyes went wide as she stared at the neon sign above the club. The Wagon Wheel. Yay.

      Emily sighed and nodded, knowing this wasn’t the best possible choice, but the bus didn’t run for another hour and fifteen this late and Sixth Street was another hour’s walk and… Hell, her feet were killing her in her thigh-highs. Really. Even with the platforms, the heels were deadly.

      "I’ll buy. One beer each, huh? I swear to you, the steel guitar won’t kill us."

      Ricki blinked, looking more and more like a raccoon with each passing minute. No, but the shit-kickers might.

      One beer. I’ll protect you. I’m butch.

      Country music types milled around out front, and a guy with worn-down boots and a big cowboy hat was perched on a stool by the door. Ladies’ night. No cover for y’all, ladies.

      Thanks, man. She grabbed Ricki around one rubber-and-lace-clad arm and tugged. "Come on."

      Hell, if Ricki hadn’t fought with Preach and Tin Lizzy, they wouldn’t be hoofing it home from the rubber ball, would they? No. No, she’d be in the back of that weird-assed conversion van heading down toward SoCo.

      Conversation just inside the door stopped dead when they walked in. The girls were all plaid shirt, Daisy Duke, straw hat types, and they obviously didn’t like the Goth aesthetic.

      Just one beer, huh? Then we’ll go. Em doggedly tugged Ricki toward the bar, her desperately tragic-looking, waifish best friend managing to dig those Doc Martens in good and hard.

      Screw it. I’m calling a cab. You’re on your own, Auntie.

      She was never going to live down The Wizard of Fucking Oz. Ever.

      Thanks, man. You’re a pal. She rolled her eyes and let go, trying not to rejoice too hard at the way Ricki stumbled backward and almost fell. Knowing Ricki, she’d at least get her cab ride free. The skinny girls always did better that way. Em made her painful way to the bar, then propped herself up on a stool, and waited for the bartender to notice her.

      As if anyone in this hick bar hadn’t noticed her five foot nine, corsetted, stiletto-heeled, pink and green highlighted hair, tattooed self.

      The bartender was more freak-friendly than expected, with a ponytail and a gold tooth. Hey, darlin’. What’ll you have?

      A Shiner, please. She smiled back, propping her heels on the rungs of the bar stool.

      You got it. He gave her a wee napkin and some nuts before heading off to get her beer, which was when she noticed the little pod of cowboys standing off to her right.

      Did they call a group of cowboys a herd? A round-up?

      A posse. That was it. A posse of cowboys.

      God, they were all tiny.

      Her head was as big as some of their shoulders.

      There was one who kept staring at her out of the corner of his eye. He was adorable, all red hair and big green eyes—that smile enough to light up Rockefeller Center at Christmas.

      Edible.

      Utterly, totally edible.

      She was careful not to make eye contact—guys like that didn’t notice girls like her—but still…

      Yum.

      In a totally aesthetic way, of course.

      He stood as if he owned the world, hips thrust forward and to the side a little, thumbs hooked in his front pockets. He glanced over every few minutes, each look longer than the last.

      You want a glass, honey?

      No. No, the bottle’s fine, thanks. She was a girl—she knew how to work a longneck bottle with the best of them.

      Cool. You running a tab?

      I… Yeah. Yeah, I am. She pushed over a credit card for him to run. She wouldn’t have more than two.

      There you go. He left her after that to fill a bunch of froofy beer orders for a little group of cougars dressed in really tight clothes. There was no way on earth those tits were all real. No fucking way.

      She glanced down at hers, which were, if not little and perky, at least firm and very well presented. Not to mention the ink and the pretty little rings that no one could see. That made her grin, made her feel settled in her skin a little more.

      She was getting good at ignoring the crowd and had just about finished with beer one when the bartender, whose name was Jib, came to check on her. Want another one?

      She checked her watch. Yeah. Yeah, one more. I have half an hour before the bus comes.

      I’ll get this one, Jib. The cowboy had a surprisingly light voice. Not girly or anything, but the kind of voice tiny people have.

      Oh? Thanks, man. That’s sweet. It was the pretty cowboy, too, with a glint in his eyes that promised pure evil.

      Sweet. He nodded, his chin strong enough to pound nails. That’s me. Soul of kindness. What’s your name?

      Emily. She chuckled. Someone had lost a bet and had to talk to the scary girl. What’s yours?

      Cotton. He held out a square, oddly pale but freckled hand. That single hand said a lot about him. It looked like it had been through a war.

      Cotton? Like the plant? That was rocking cool.

      That hand was strong, solid. Firm.

      Yep. When I was born, my momma thought I was an albino. I had little tufts of cotton white hair. He grinned, and the world almost caved in. He had the most amazing smile ever.

      Oh, man. That is a wicked fun story. She laughed, clapping a little bit. When his eyes dropped to her chest, she couldn’t help the little sense of ‘score’. I’m just named after my grandmothers—Emily Cecilia.

      I have an aunt named Cecilia. ’Course, she’s Mexican. He laughed, too, nodding at the bar. There’s your beer. Want to go sit?

      Sure, for—she checked her watch—fifteen minutes. I have a bus to catch.

      She stood up and shook out her little skirt.

      A bus, huh? He put the hand not holding his beer under her elbow, steering her a little. When she glanced over, his little cadre of friends were long gone.

      Yeah. I was at a party and my ride went AWOL. Sort of. So I walked a bit and thought I’d catch the bus home.

      He was stronger than he seemed. Really.

      I could give you a ride, Emily Cecilia. Got my truck. At her raised eyebrow, he held up his beer in a defensive gesture. No strings attached. I been on foot when the gang disappeared.

      Yeah? It’s a little aggravating, especially in the boots.

      I bet. I wouldn’t want you to have to ride the bus at this time of night. They sat, him waiting until her butt hit the seat to slide into the booth.

      You’re sweet. Are you from around here? Austin was one of those places where you couldn’t tell, not really. All sorts of people came from everywhere.

      I’m from up north of here some. That glinting, pure-devil smile came again. And you keep saying I’m sweet.

      You keep not proving me wrong. She took a drink of her beer, the cold bitterness just what she needed.

      Well, I’ll try not to let you down. He tapped his foot, the boot toe making this neat sound. So what do you do?

      I design first person shooters with Fractal Monkeys. It was a great job. She’d been the secondary designer of Betty Bosoms and of Crackhead’s Gang. She wasn’t going to get her own game, not any time soon, but… Right. Focus. Small talk. Pretty cowboy. What about you?

      He tilted his head, one eyebrow all but disappearing under his straw Stetson. I’m a bull rider. Now tell me what you do with monkeys again?

      She chuckled, grinned wider. Mostly? I drink a lot of coffee with them and animate pin-up girls. She exposed one shoulder with an inked homage to Bettie Page bent over a chair. I design video game characters with this look in mind.

      Bull rider, huh? That was a new one.

      Oh! His cheeks went red enough that the freckles all ran together. I was thinking zookeeper. Well, that’s neat, honey. I’ll have to tell Kynan. He’s big on video games.

      Ah. Neat. The phrase of ‘oh, you’re a smart girl, I bet you don’t put out’. It’s a great job and keeps me in clothes. How did you become a bull rider?

      Oh, I grew up on a ranch. Got on a calf when I was five. Cotton shook his head. Ain’t much to it. Not like what you do.

      I bet it’s wicked fun, though. One hell of a head rush. Are the bulls, like, vicious mean? She had the image of the bull from Bugs Bunny, shooting bullets from its horns. Bang. Bang. Bang.

      Not most of them. I mean, some are… Just like folks, you know? One shoulder went up and down. Most of them are just doing their job. They like the game as much as we do.

      That’s cool. She finished her beer. Are you sure about the ride thing, because I have about five minutes to catch that bus.

      Yeah, yeah. I’m sure. He waggled his nearly empty beer. I only ever have one. Oh, now, I ain’t against it, obviously, so don’t look at me like that. He chuckled, reaching out with his free hand to pat hers. I had my liver torn in half once. Lacerated a kidney. I got to be careful, is all.

      No shit? In half? How? She scooted closer, a little fascinated.

      Well, a hoof hit me under my vest. He came down on me so hard that he scrambled all my insides.

      She was Texan enough to know the ‘no shit there I was’ tone, but she didn’t mind at all.

      Do you remember it? The one time she’d been in an accident, she’d come to in the hospital and she couldn’t recall a bit of it.

      I can remember the hit. Like a freight train. Then I woke up. He laughed, stroking the back of her hand. You tell me when I’m boring you and you want to go. Not that I want you to.

      Boring? No. No, not at all. And she wasn’t lying. He was sort of fascinating. So, how could you get back on the bull, after? Weren’t you scared?

      Heck, yes. He hooted, and, man, he could laugh. I was shaking. Almost puked. But I love what I do.

      You’re braver than I am. I still don’t drive after my car accident.

      You had an accident? His green eyes clouded with what looked like genuine sympathy. Was it bad?

      Bad enough, yeah. I’m fine now. I just don’t drive. And she had a lot of ink and she didn’t hide who she was anymore.

      At all.

      Well, good for you. He clinked his beer bottle against hers before taking a sip. To survival.

      Hell, yeah, cowboy. She drank deep. Man, Ricki was never gonna believe this.

      She ordered another beer, and Cotton switched to Coke, and before she knew it, last call was announced, Jib standing on the bar to be heard over the group of rednecks who’d come in a half hour before. She wasn’t drunk—not at all—but she was warm and flushed with the attention, with the newness of it all. You want to go get a cup of coffee?

      Oh, I’d like that. He leaned over the table a little, as if he was sharing a secret. Gettin’ loud and wild in here. Want to get out before they all let loose outside?

      Em nodded. That’s probably safest. I’m like a big target, you know?

      Cotton snorted. In this crowd, I am, too. Come on, honey.

      She let him help her from the booth and out, and she wrapped her hand around one very firm, very nice arm.

      They settled her tab and headed out. He really did pay for her drinks. That was cool, too, as a lot of guys conveniently forgot.

      So where’s the best coffee and pancakes? Cotton asked.

      Kerbey Lane on the drag. No question.

      He had a big truck, big enough that she didn’t have to fold herself into it.

      Well, you just point me to it. I can get around a bit, but usually my buddy Garret comes with me in Austin. How he reached the pedals, she had no idea.

      How long are you in town?

      Three days. Doing some promo stuff.

      That’s cool, man. Austin’s a great town.

      It is. All sorts of music, you know? Which way? They coasted to a stop at a light, everything going a little more quiet as it got later and later.

      Left, then you’ll follow this up to the Capitol building.

      Cool. She could tell he was used to driving on back roads, not in narrow city lanes. It was cute, the way he drove as if he was maneuvering an elephant.

      The view up Congress was special, too—the Capitol lit up, the city beautiful with UT’s Main Tower behind.

      Oh, look at that, now. I do love how that is at night, huh? He tapped out a beat on the steering wheel, never really still.

      It’s one of my favorite things. One of these days I think I’ll buy one of those lofts. I work right down Sixth Street.

      Yeah? That must get hard to get out of work on Friday afternoon. He followed her directions to Kerbey Lane and pulled his truck into a space that was way too small. It worked, though.

      Good coffee and gingerbread pancakes await. She untangled herself from her heels and skirt in time for him to help her down, which was sweet and dear and weird, all at once. He closed the truck door behind her, opened the door to the café for her and held her chair. Man, this was going to wig her out. Thank you, Cotton. She grinned at Maryrose, waved. Hey, you!

      Emmy! Maryrose squealed, combat boots slamming on her way over. Good to see you, girl. Nice boobs. Coffee?

      Please and thank you.

      Cotton stared, his eyes bugging out a little before his gaze moved inevitably to her breasts.

      They were looking good. She knew it. Corsets were magical things. Do you want coffee, Cotton?

      Huh? His eyes snapped back up to hers. Yes, ma’am.

      Two coffees, Maryrose.

      Coolness. Maryrose patted her mostly bare shoulder and bounced off.

      We were roomies in the dorms, years ago.

      Yeah? I did two years and that was just to make Momma happy. I wasn’t so good at it.

      No, but she’d bet he was on the rodeo team, wherever he’d gone.

      Did you go to Tarleton State or A&M? She’d bet Tarleton.

      Tarleton. That grin flashed again, and she heard a group of college girls in the corner giggle. I tried to hang to it, but I got to serious rodeoing.

      It sounds like a life from another time, really.

      Yeah? Those narrow shoulders lifted. I guess I’m from a smaller place. Where did you go to school?

      I was at Rice for my bachelor’s. Here at UT for my graduate work. She smiled, shrugged. I loved it here, so I stayed.

      Smart girl. She could hear it again in her head. The ‘not getting laid’ that went with comments on her intellect.

      It’s better than the alternative. She winked and tried not to get pissy about it. It was what

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