Willowbrook Series Book 3: Love At Lazy Duke's
Author
Kerry Kennedy
Reads
98.4K
Chapters
63
LOVE AT LAZY DUKES is ready to steal your heart (and maybe throw a punch or two first).
She’s a wild barrel racer with fire in her eyes. He’s the grumpy cowboy who runs the local bar. Their history? Complicated. Their chemistry? Unavoidable.
When Montana rolls back into town, the last thing she wants is trouble—especially not the kind that looks like Abe Duke. But sparks fly, tempers flare, and love might just be the biggest rodeo of them all.
If you love small towns, slow burns, banter that bites, and cowboys who fall hard, this one’s for you.
She came back to town to race barrels—not fall into bed with the grumpy cowboy who broke her heart.
Montana’s wild, whip-smart, and impossible to ignore. Abe’s broody, built like sin, and owns the one bar she swore she’d never step foot in again. Too bad sparks fly hotter than a summer bonfire the second they're in the same room.
Enemies? Absolutely. Lovers? Eventually. Trouble? Oh, definitely.
Dirty looks turn to dirty thoughts in this steamy small-town standoff. He’s all grit. She’s all fire. Together? They’re combustible.
Grab your boots and bring a fan—you’re gonna need it.
Chapter 1: Bud, Tequila, and a Scowl
MONTANA
“OUT. NOW!” he says in a loud voice.
“Aw, man, don’t start that bullshit with me again.” What is this guy’s problem? He is being such a damn asshole. I’m thirsty, tired, and just want a goddamn cold one. Too much to ask?
“This is a bar, right, asshole?” I say, ignoring him and taking a seat at the bar. “It says Lazy Duke’s outside, so I guess it is a watering hole.” I shift my ass to get comfortable on the pine high stool.
I have to admit, he is kinda hot in a big, gruff, grumpy asshole kinda way. His deep-brown hair is tied back into a man bun, his square jawline sporting a nicely trimmed beard. Mm, I do like facial hair on a man, but this one? Forget it. His attitude stinks.
“I asked you not to come here again after you caused my locals to fight with each other,” he says as he glowers at me, his cheeks slightly flushed. I cock my head, because since when do men ever blush? Leastways not any man I have come across. And he’s licking his bottom lip. Hold on a second, what is going on with him?
“It ain’t my fault those backass locals of yours wanna fight over a pretty little thing like me, now, is it?” I move closer to the bar. All eyes are on me, I can feel it. I’m new to town, so of course I am the latest person of interest. Doesn’t bother me none.
“Now, I’ll have a bottle of Bud and a tequila shot, thanks, Bear.” I give him my “I don’t give a shit what you’re saying” look. Whoa, did I just witness his jaw drop to the bar?
“My name ain’t Bear. Don’t call me that.” He is actually growling at me. I bet I could have him eating out of the palm of my hand in minutes. However, he is the last man I want eating out of the palm of my hand.
I’ve had way too much heartache in the past to even want to go near a man right now. No siree, I am sworn off men for a while. Especially these good-looking types with ink up their mighty fine biceps. I do not avert my gaze as I look him straight in the eyes.
“Will you stop glowering at me and just get me my drinks already.” I lean my elbows on the bar. He watches my every move. His eyes waver as he moves them from my eyes to my chest. And why does that make me feel something in my core? Not good. Not good at all. Come on, Montana, get a grip.
What can I say, it’s been a while since I’ve been laid. Perhaps my hormones are on some kind of kick or something.
“One drink and then I want you out.” He turns his back on me, throwing the white tea cloth over his left shoulder. I can’t help but check out his high ass in those tight Wranglers he is wearing.
“Hey now, don’t treat the newcomers like that,” some pretty little thing says as she stands beside me. I arch an eyebrow at her.
“Hi, I’m Daisy,” she says and extends a hand.
Okay, I’m not the friendly type either. I thought I should mention that. I’m a barrel racer and only in town for the next race in a week’s time. That, and my old Chevy that was once my grandpa’s has given up the ghost and is in the local garage being checked over.
This whole situation is most inconvenient. Usually, I stay out of the towns in some motel or other.
“Montana,” I say dryly, leaving her hand hanging.
She smiles sweetly all the same. “I love that name. Are you actually from Montana?” she asks.
My drink arrives on the bar with a thump. Dammit, what is this man’s beef? So I got a few of the guys all riled up last time I came in, enough that two of his regulars came to blows and he threw me out. There’s nothing I can do about that. For some reason, just being myself gets a man riled up.
“Nope,” I reply curtly, since I do not want to get into conversation. Besides, I don’t want anyone knowing who I really am or where I come from. Montana the barrel racer, who is kicking ass on the circuit, is the name I go by, and that is good enough. Otherwise, people are going to treat me differently.
“Okay then, so how long are you staying in our lovely town of Willowbrook?” Man, is she persistent or what?
“Not long.” Does she give up? Hell no.
“Well, as I said, my name is Daisy. That over there is Deacon, my fiancé. He’s the local marshal. And that”—she points to a beautiful woman with auburn hair—“is my sister-in-law-to-be, Sage. Sitting beside her is my brother, Logan.”
There is an awkward pause while I nod my head in acknowledgment and take a long drink from my cold one.
“Would you like to come and join us?” Her voice is sweet, and I can already tell that this Daisy is one of the good people in life. I bet she brings plenty of people together, but I am not in the market to make friends.
“No, I’m good, thanks, Daisy. I’m gonna finish my drink and get out of here like this big grumpy asshole wants.”
Daisy chuckles. “Abe isn’t grumpy; he’s just being an ass today. Aren’t you, Abe?”
Abe grunts and goes to serve someone at the other end of the bar. He gives me a narrow-eyed look. I glare back at him, resisting the urge to be childish and stick my tongue out at him. My eyes do that roaming thing again, taking in the broad shoulders and tapered waist.
“Well, if you change your mind, that’s where we will be. It’d be lovely to get to know you, Montana, while you’re still in town,” Daisy says.
I nod curtly. She gets the hint and turns to leave me sitting at the bar. Looks like I’m staying in town, and I still need to find somewhere to sleep.
God, it’s been a long day. What with my grandpa’s Chevy breaking down and the walk to the garage to get someone to come and tow it back, then the walk to the bar. I also need to find somewhere to stay.
Tiredness hits me like a tsunami as I knock back my beer and slug back the tequila shot in one. The warmth hits the back of my throat and the bitterness makes me shudder.
“Say, you,” I shout out to the man called Abe behind the bar, chatting to a pretty woman at the end. Clearly she is flirting with him the way she twirls her dark hair between her fingers. I roll my eyes. He glances up.
“What do you want now?” Charming, right? I’ve seen better manners on a goat.
“Any places around here that I can stay?”
He folds his big arms in front of his wide chest. “You need a room?”
“Well, obviously. I’m not asking for my health.” Asshole!
“The harvest festival has all the rooms in our lodges booked out as far as I know. Wait a second.” He turns to where Daisy and her friends are sitting.
“Daisy, got a minute?” he calls out.
“Sure,” she replies, getting up and coming back to us with that sweet-as-sugar smile on her face. “What’s up, Abe?”
“This woman needs a room. You know of anywhere?”
Daisy furrows her brow. “Everywhere is going to be booked this time of year.” I watch as she taps her finger to her lip. Typical that the day my vehicle packs up is the day I can’t get a room. I knew I should have stayed out of town.
“Hey, wait. You have plenty of spare rooms, right?” she says to Abe.
Alarm bells start going off in my head. This is not going to work for me. Judging by his mean scowl, it isn’t going to work for him either.
“They’re not for rent, Daisy,” he says pointedly.
“Oh, come on, Abe. Where is your kind spirit? You gotta help a girl in need. Montana needs a room. You have plenty spare.”
“I said,” he says with a low rumble, “they are not for letting out.”
Daisy lets out a little sigh. Oh yeah, I can see she can wrap any man around her little finger. Still, Abe stands there, arms folded, scowl in place.
“Daisy, no,” he says. Good, because I don’t want to be anywhere near him either. I’d rather walk the five miles back out of town and book a motel room. I begin to stand up. Daisy places a delicate hand on my arm.
“Abe, if you don’t let Montana stay in one of your rooms, I swear to God, I’m gonna tell your momma what a mean old coot you are. And you don’t want your momma to know that you were not prepared to help a helpless girl out. Would you, then?”
His eyes narrow. Helpless girl? I ain’t no helpless girl. I’m a fierce, independent woman who is pretty mean on the barrel racing circuit. Plus, I do not want to stay in his place.
“Listen, guys, as cute as all this is, I’m outta here,” I say as I leave cash on the bar.
“Abe,” she says persistently.
“Goddammit, woman, fine. She can stay at mine!”
