Breaking Rule Seven (Cowboy Casanova #1) by Bridget Hollister Page A

attracted to the man since the moment she first laid eyes on him.
    As someone who kept a strict set of personal and professional rules, it unnerved her how badly Clay got under her skin—and how badly she wanted to feel him against her body.
    Telling him off wasn't exactly an option, either. Usually, the association didn't meddle in the lives of its competitors. But, when it came to the PRRA, Clay's popularity was what held the circuit together. Without his fans and the advertising money they generated, they'd all be out of a job. That was why it became Charity's role to ensure he behaved in the public eye and didn't do anything stupid enough to compromise all of it.
    “He's a grown man who obviously does what he wants," Charity huffed at Garrett, her soft spot for the older man's kindness tugging at her heartstrings. As much as she wanted to see the chip on Clay's shoulder fall off, she knew it was important to Garrett that someone keep him in line. "But… For you… I’ll talk to him. Where is he at?”
    “I picked him up. He’s sleeping off the whiskey in the loft apartment in the barn. Ginny would kill me if she knew I brought him there.”
    Charity raised an eyebrow and flipped on the bedside lamp. Ginny Blevins, Garrett's wife, was not a woman that anybody wanted to cross. Ginny had long since made her mind up about Clay's bad-boy behavior and was vocal to anyone with ears about how she felt. "It's okay. I get it. I'll be there in twenty minutes to take care of this and get him out of your barn before Ginny finds out." 
    "Thanks, Charity," Garrett replied before hanging up, a hint of relief in his voice. 
    Setting her cell phone back on the bedside table, Charity groaned. This task wasn't going to be fun.
    Having to confront this gorgeous man and force him to get his head out of his ass in the middle of the night would require getting her professional game face on. Without enough time for a shower, she threw on her favorite pair of jeans and a white button-down cashmere sweater. Topping it off with a slight coat of mascara, a tiny bit of lip gloss, and pulling her long brown tresses into a quick bun, she threw on her favorite worn cowboy boots and was ready to go.
    As promised, she steered her Jeep Wrangler off the highway and onto the dirt road that led to the Blevins ranch less than a half an hour later. Even though she felt exhausted and quite tired of dealing with Clay, she couldn't believe her luck of finding this job and moving to this quaint little Texas town. 
    Of course, the job required her to travel all the time. Fifty cities in forty weeks definitely kept things exciting. But, Charity was always happy to come home to her little town and little apartment at the end of every week. Broken Branch had somehow become her home now, changing her Southern California roots into something a little more grounded.
    She worked herself up mentally for dealing with Clay on the drive over, but still wasn't sure how she should approach the subject when she saw him. Of course, sobering him up with coffee was also important. Gas stations in Broken Branch weren't usually open at one o'clock in the morning, so she had filled up two cups from her tiny kitchen to bring with.
    Frankly, she'd love to throttle the man. Pulling a stunt like this the night before the biggest rodeo event of the year—in the circuit's hometown, nonetheless—made her want to wring his neck. 
    Carefully balancing two paper cups full of steaming hot liquid, Charity made her way through the barn and up the wooden stairs to the loft apartment above. Figuring Clay was sound asleep or passed out from the booze, she didn't even bother to knock before entering the front door. 
    Big mistake.
    Before she knew it, cups of coffee were flying and she found herself soaked, standing face-to-face with Clay. Worst of all, he had nothing on but a towel wrapped strategically around his waist.
    "Oh, damn it!" she cried, trying her hardest to look away from his