Dare to be Dirty (The Dirty Girls Book Club #2) Read Online Free PDF Page B

he was lucky.
    The fourth rider managed to stay aboard a wildly twisting, bucking horse, and got the top score so far, an 82. Then Blake rode, his horse a dark brown one. It bucked pretty much in a straight line, and the cowboy rode dramatically and stuck on until the end, then with the assistance of one of the pickup riders, slipped off and to the ground.
    His score was posted as an 80.5, which put him in second place. Marielle hissed. “That’s not fair.”
    Anticipation building, Kim sat impatiently through the next two rides—one a fall, and one a score lower than Blake’s—then the announcer said that the next rider, in chute two, was Ty Ronan. Though Kim couldn’t catch all the words, she did hear that he’d been champion at the Calgary Stampede, and top all-around cowboy at some other event. He was not only handsome, but a winner.
    “Hey,” Marielle said, “isn’t that the guy you’re hot for?”
    “Is it?” she asked innocently, peering toward the chute. She saw Ty’s beige cowboy hat and a slice of green shirt as he leaned down, doing something with the horse he’d be riding. The horse’s name, she noted, was Dirt Devil.
    The man responsible for opening the gate got ready, and a second later the horse burst out. Kim crossed her fingers, staring intently. The horse was pretty, gray and white with a white mane and tail, but—ouch!—it bucked and whirled like crazy. Ty’s hat sailed off, but somehow he hung on, raking the horse’s shoulders as she’d read that riders were supposed to do.
    From the row above her in the stands, a woman said to her husband, “Lord, that horse is rank.”
    The couple had exchanged comments during the previous events, and seemed to know what they were talking about. She crossed her fingers even tighter for Ty. Why did he have to draw the nasty horse?
    It seemed like forever until the eight seconds buzzer went off, but the horse wasn’t listening. It kept on bucking fiercely, moving across the arena as pickup riders tried to approach. Still Ty clung to it, for what had to be at least another eight seconds, and now Kim clenched her fingernails into her palms, hoping he made it off safely. Finally, one of the pickup riders got close enough and Ty freed his hand from the grip and slid off, resting briefly against the other horse then dropping to the ground.
    She joined the rest of the audience in cheering and clapping.
    He looked so great, bending that athletic body to pick up his hat, which he dusted off then waved toward the crowd. God, he had the sexiest smile. The sexiest, strongest body. What would it be like to make love with a man like that, for just once in her life? Damn it, the closest she would ever come was reading
Ride Her, Cowboy
, and imagining Ty Ronan in the place of Dirk Zamora, riding
her
, not Marty Westerbrook.
    When Ty’s score of 83 went up, he was the leader.
    He held that position until the final rider came out and nailed an 83.5, and Kim sighed with disappointment. It would have been the perfect end to the day if Ty’d come out on top.
    * * *
    K im had visited her share of bars, but she’d never been in one like this. That wasn’t surprising given that it was called The Rusty Spur. Yes, she, along with George and Lily, had decided to join Marielle and complete their day of cowboy research with a trip to a country and western bar. Kim was curious whether Marielle’s bold plan would work. She’d seen her friend in action before, and was a little in awe of her vivaciousness and confidence. Sometimes a girl had to live vicariously.
    They were definitely not in downtown Vancouver. The décor featured rustic wooden tables, barstools modeled after saddles, and western photos on every inch of wall space that wasn’t occupied by posters, slogans, T-shirts, leather horsey stuff, and a couple of broken guitars.
    And yes, there was music. At one end of the room, two guys and two girls clad in western wear played a twangy country number with one of