Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(3)

The left door was the back service entrance to the Rawhide Bar. But the slightly

recessed door on the right was the entrance into the Rawhide Club—not that it was

marked as such. A keycode was required to enter, a code that changed every weekend. Ben

scrolled to the text from Cody and punched in the number, watching as the green light

flashed.

A short set of stairs ended at a wide landing. The door was manned by security on

Friday and Saturday nights. Because security and anonymity were paramount to club

members, Ben was surprised the door was propped open with a barstool and he could

wander in, unimpeded.

The large main room, decorated in gold and red, harkened back to brothels in the Wild

West. An ornate horseshoe-shaped bar dominated the back corner. The floor to tin

ceiling barback consisted of gilded mirrors and glass shelves. A sizeable brick and

slate fireplace took center stage on the opposite wall. Several old-fashioned velvet,

leather and brocade couches were placed in a semi-circle in front of it. Other chairs

and loveseats separated the outer space into individual seating areas. Room dividers

also created intimate, hidden spots. At the far back of the room was a hallway that

split into two sides.

The high-pitched whine of the vacuum cleaner stopped and Sully strode into view.

“Bennett!” He pulled him in for a one-armed man hug. “Good to see you.”

“You too. I was beginning to wonder if I was the only one here.”

“Nah. Cody’s cleaning up a mess in the hallway. Murphy is next door, counting the

till. Want a beer?”

“Wouldn’t say no.”

Sully slipped behind the bar. “It’s been a while.”

“Sorry I haven’t been around.”

“No worries. Been slow in the club.” Sully popped the top on a bottle of Moose Drool.

Ben settled on the stool. “What about the bar?”

“The bar side always stays busy.”

“That’s gotta make Cody and Trace happy.” He took a pull off his beer. “What’s new

with you?”

Sully shrugged and loosened his tie. “Not much. Keeping my head above water at the day

job. I sling drinks one night a week at the bar to give Cody a break. I’ve been on

overseer status at the club most Saturday nights.”

“You still makin’ time with that redhead from Sheridan?”

“The last two times I’ve seen her haven’t been on club nights. She comes into the

bar side, tosses back a couple of appletinis, we shoot the breeze, and she’s gone

before closing time.”

Ben frowned. “Think she wants to see you outside of the club?” Most female club

members didn’t hang out in the Rawhide Bar. The reason they’d joined the club was to

avoid random, disappointing hookups with half-drunk men after last call. Being a member

of the Rawhide Club guaranteed they’d get laid since that was the club’s objective—

providing a place for no-strings-attached, safe and consensual sex.

“I don’t know.” Sully rested his elbows on the bar. “I like her. The sex is great.

She’s not heavy into the Dom/sub stuff, which is fine with me.”

Sully’s attitude surprised Ben. “Really?”

“In the last couple months I’ve realized that while I enjoy certain aspects of this