Read To Tame A Texan for Free Online

things important to Texans—bulls, cows, horses, and guns—while a pretty blond barmaid with big breasts and wearing too much face paint flirted with Ace.
    He grinned back, but his Dad nudged him. “Don’t think about that, boy. Your evening is taken, remember?”
    â€œHow could I forget?” Ace’s dark gaze stared at the clock hanging over the big mirror, like a condemned man counting away the last hours of his life. “I’ll have another bourbon,” he said to the busty girl.
    â€œAce, you’ve had three already,” his father reminded him. “We’d better go. If I don’t get you back upstairs so you can get cleaned up, your Ma will be upset with both of us.”
    Ace tried to focus his eyes. “Lordy, Dad, you’ve fought Indians, gunfighters, bad bulls, and unbroke stallions. You ain’t afraid of Ma, are you?”
    Trace Durango hesitated. “Let’s just say a smart Texan picks his battles.”
    â€œYou can say that again,” Uncle Maverick laughed. “Don’t know what got into Lynnie about wanting to attend this fancy shindig; it ain’t like her at all.”
    â€œLooks like somewhere in all of west Texas, you could have found a man willin’ to escort her,” Ace complained.
    Maverick seemed to think a minute. “No,” he said, “not one. Sorry about this, Ace. My sister-in-law is a mite stubborn and headstrong.”
    â€œA mite?” Ace drained his glass. “I’ve seen army mules with more give to their personalities.”
    â€œAgreed.” Maverick rubbed the knife scar on his dark cheek good-naturedly “Well, I’ll see you hombres later.”
    Morosely, Ace watched Maverick leave the bar.
    â€œCome on, son,” Trace said, “let’s get you ready to go.”
    â€œOne more drink,” Ace begged.
    â€œThat ain’t gonna make her any more desirable,” Trace said.
    â€œWell, it can’t hurt.”
    â€œThat’s a fact. I’ll have one with you,” Trace declared. “Might as well get hung for a sheep as a goat.”
    â€œI always wondered what the hell that meant,” Ace said somberly.
    â€œDamned if I know. It’s just something Texans say.”
    â€œLordy, Dad, she’s coyote ugly.”
    â€œCoyote ugly” was as big an insult as a Texan could give a person. A girl was coyote ugly if, when a man got too drunk, picked her up, took her to bed, and woke up with her asleep on his arm in the morning, he’d chew his arm off to escape without waking her up.
    â€œNaw.” Trace shook his head. “She just looked a little rough with all those rags in her hair and the goo on her face. I’ll bet she cleans up pretty good.”
    Ace tried to picture Lynnie looking better than she had looked this afternoon. Anything would be an improvement. “I hope Ma is satisfied,” he grumbled. “I swear I’ll never get in trouble again. Ma has no mercy when it comes to callin’ in her markers.”
    â€œDon’t ever try to outsmart a Texas woman,” Trace said. “They are as ornery as rattlesnakes and as devious as the devil himself.”
    â€œMa know you think that?”
    His father regarded him gravely. “Son, there’s some things a smart man keeps to himself, sí?”
    Ace nodded and glanced at the clock again. He gave the barmaid a final, devilish grin in case he managed to get Lynnie home early.
    They were both weaving a little when they left the bar and went upstairs to their rooms. Cimarron met Ace and Trace at the door, her face as stormy as a Texas norther. “Double damnation. Where have you all been?”
    â€œJust chewing the fat in the bar a little,” Trace said.
    That reminded Ace of hog lard, and he thought for a moment he might lose all that good liquor he’d drunk.
    Dad retreated to a comfortable chair, leaving Ace to deal with Ma alone.
    â€œYou