Page 24 of The Trail Boss

Gavin opened his mouth to respond but stopped himself, the words dying in his throat. Instead, he stepped back and gestured toward the door. “Go on inside. I’ll be close behind.”

Roxie stared at him for a long moment, her emotions a whirlwind she didn’t have the energy to untangle. Without another word, she turned and walked into the club, the door closing behind her with a soft thud.

Gavin leaned against the side of his truck, the cool night air doing little to calm the heat coursing through him. He hadn’t meant for it to happen—for the tension to boil over into something he couldn’t take back.

But now that it had, there was no denying the truth. Roxie wasn’t just another case to him. She was more than that, and it scared the hell out of him.

As he stared at the glowing lights of the club, one thought settled in his mind with unwavering clarity: whatever it took, he wasn’t going to be the next guy that let her down. He would be the one standing with her at the end, just so long as she didn’t rip off his balls before it was over. Shaking his head at his romantic notions, he headed into the club.

9

GAVIN

Gavin pulled at the fancy cuffs of his silk shirt. It wasn’t what he usually wore at the club, but it was within the rules and seemed more professional than his usual leather vest. Somehow putting on his leathers—even this version—made him feel more like himself—even more than jeans with chaps or tactical gear. His fingers all but caressed the baby-soft leather as he surveyed the Iron Spur’s main lounge. The club was alive with energy, the low hum of conversation and the occasional thud of a flogger’s tails making contact with a sub’s skin. There was also quiet laughter punctuating the smooth rhythm of ambient music. The dim lighting cast a golden glow over the sleek furniture and polished bar in the lounge, giving everything an air of exclusivity.

Roxie stood near the bar, looking both out of place and entirely captivating in her black corset top, leather pants and apron. The outfit hugged her curves in all the right ways, and Gavin had to force himself to keep his gaze professional as he watched her.

“I feel ridiculous,” she muttered, glancing over her shoulder at him.

“You look fine,” Gavin said, his tone even.

Roxie snorted softly. “Fine? Wow, don’t go overboard with the compliments.”

Gavin allowed a faint smile, but his eyes were already scanning the room. “You’re here for a reason, Roxie. Focus on that.”

She sighed, rolling her eyes, but he caught the nervous grimace in her expression as she turned back toward the bar.

Gavin watched as Roxie crossed the room toward Vanessa Ellington. If she really wanted tips on becoming a successful author, Vanessa was the one to talk to. And unlike so many really successful authors, Vanessa was always willing to help other authors find success.

Vanessa was a stunning woman who looked every inch the romance writer. She was a highly sought-after submissive in the club, but she had only been collared once and then only briefly and often came in just to sit in the lounge. Gavin was fairly sure Roxie took notes and based characters on people she met. She had an air of quiet confidence and was sitting in one of the back booths. He looked toward the diametrically opposite end of the lounge and as Gavin had suspected, Hawke was watching her.

Roxie hesitated, smoothing the front of her apron before making her way over. Gavin kept a respectful distance mainly because he was sure it wasn’t Vanessa who was trying to kill Roxie. He positioned himself near the end of the bar where he could keep an eye on both the entrance to the lounge as well as overhear Roxie’s conversation with Vanessa. He leaned against the wall, blending into the shadows as he kept an eye on her.

“Excuse me,” Roxie said, her voice soft but steady as she approached the woman. “You’re Vanessa Ellington, right?”

The woman turned, gazing at Roxie with polite curiosity. “I am. And you are?”

“Roxie Albright,” she said quickly. “I… I’ve heard you’re a writer. A romance author.”

Vanessa arched a brow, her lips curving into a faint smile. “I see my reputation precedes me. What can I do for you, Roxie?”

“I’m trying to write,” Roxie admitted, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I’ve been scribbling ideas for years, but I don’t know if they’re any good or where to start. I was hoping you might have some advice.”

Vanessa’s smile softened, and she gestured to the booth. “I don’t have much time tonight—on a deadline—but I could give you a few minutes now and we could make arrangements to meet again and have a more in depth conversation.”

“Oh my god. That would be fantastic,” said Roxie.

Gavin strained to hear their conversation over the ambient noise, catching snippets of Roxie’s nervous voice and Vanessa’s calm, measured responses.

“I used to think writing was about talent,” Vanessa said, her voice carrying just enough for Gavin to catch the words. “But it’s about persistence. You have to be willing to sit down and write, even when it’s bad. Especially when it’s bad.”

Roxie nodded, leaning forward slightly. “But what if… what if it’s never good enough?”

Vanessa’s smile widened. “Every writer feels that way at some point or another and often many times throughout their career. We call it imposter’s syndrome and in my opinion it is only those who truly are imposters who never feel it.”

“Surely you don’t.”

Vanessa’s laughter was bright and pure and Gavin glanced at Hawke who looked as though someone was stabbing him in the heart, repeatedly. Hawke had been the one to collar the gorgeous redhead, but as quickly as it had started, the whole thing blew up although neither would ever say what happened.

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