Total pages in book: 89
Estimated words: 88262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 88262 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 441(@200wpm)___ 353(@250wpm)___ 294(@300wpm)
The moment he finally looked at me, he couldn’t take his eyes off of me.
He looked at my eyes.
My chest.
My mouth, too.
He said he didn’t trust me, and he tried to show that on the outside, too. But there was something else.
Desire crept its way through me, slow but persistent, like a thickening fog.
“What kind of cowboy are you?”
I took a slow sip of my whiskey. “The Montana kind.”
“Did you really even ride?” he asked, looking me over like he was judging me, hard.
“I ride. Yes.”
“Cattle ranching? Horse or sheep ranch? Do you take your horses out twice a year, and for the rest of the year let your workers take care of them?”
“I rode Veil every day that weather allowed it,” I told him. “Wasn’t easy to get a Friesian mare, but I made it happen. And if you’re asking what types of ranches my family owns, the answer is that we have a few of all of them.”
“Multiple ranches.”
I nodded.
He looked down at the bar, like he was finally realizing just how serious the Lyons family was about the ranching business.
“So you are a real cowboy.”
“Don’t know what the fuck that means, but yes.”
His eyes met mine, a burning question in them now. “Do you own a gun?”
“I own multiple, Max.”
He swallowed. “Did you bring them here?”
“I did not.”
He nodded.
“I see.”
“My own personal ranch estate was used for horse rehabilitation,” I told him. “My own project. My family are much more for-profit, and they liked to tell me I was wasting my time on the rescues and rejects. But helpless creatures deserve attention, too.”
“So you rebelled against your family by taking care of sick and injured horses?”
I set my jaw. “I rebelled in all sorts of ways.”
He glared at me. “Am I supposed to be intimidated by that?”
“That’s up to you.”
I thought of blood, spilling on the dewy morning grass.
Of hospital beds.
Stretchers.
My own knuckles, repeatedly broken.
Of all those mistakes that littered my path to here.
“Fine. You’re a real cowboy. Still don’t like you in my town, and still don’t trust you. And I don’t know why you're here tonight.”
I adjusted on the leather bar stool, kicking back a little.
God, I liked Max.
His sexy, boyish features and his endless light brown hair, sure. His perky ass that always looked so good under his shorts, and the way his nipples were sometimes hard beneath his tight shirts.
I wanted to fuck his ass fucking raw, yes. But I also liked that he was so sweet-natured yet he didn’t try to hide a thing from me. He told me how he felt. He didn’t back down, even after he knew I could take him in a fight. Not even for a moment. I was nearly a decade older than him and I could remember how I felt when I was around his age—like the whole world was still cracked wide open to me.
Ready for me to take.
How was he so happy to stay here in this small town?
Why didn’t he dream bigger than this?
“You want to know why I’m here tonight?” I asked. “Maybe I’m looking for someone to bring me home.”
He gave me a death glare. “So you’re not just an asshole, you’re openly talking about cheating on my sister?”
The comment caught me off guard.
Right.
I hadn’t exactly updated Max on that situation.
“I’m not cheating on Lily,” I said. “Lily and I aren’t—”
“Don’t tell me you’re in an open relationship. Lily is a one-man kind of person, even if she supports people who are poly.”
“Not what I was going to say, Baby Blue,” I told him. “We’re not together.”
I marveled at the way he defended his sister.
I wished I had a single family member who cared about me as much as Max seemed to care about Lily. She’d always told me that they’d grown up close, and she missed him all the time since moving off to Montana.
“Since when are you not together?” he asked.
“Last night.”
His brow knit. “Before or after you tried to rob my house and murder me?”
“You gave me the whiskey bottle. I took the whiskey bottle. Lily and I drank half of the whiskey bottle, and then she dumped me. That enough of a bedtime story for you?”
I didn’t bother explaining the finer details, like the fact that I had known we were going to break up at some point, and that I’d had confirmation about that before we arrived in Tennessee. Or that Lily also was well aware of it—and that she certainly was fine with the idea that I could fuck anyone, anywhere I pleased.
Or that there were other reasons I’d left home which had nothing to do with following a girlfriend.
“Why are you still here?” Max asked.
That really is the question of the day, isn’t it?
“You can quit the good cop act,” I said. “I’m not going to hurt you or Lily.”