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“Melvin, Wanda’s boyfriend who looks like Santa Claus?”
“That’s him.”
Melvin who sold unsuspecting people like my brother overpriced used cowboy boots. I started to give back the boots;Cameron said they were thousands of dollars. I couldn’t let him buy me something like that.
“Oh, wow. Thank you.”
He tucked his sunglasses into the collar of his shirt and offered me a broad smile that made the corners of his eyes wrinkle into the sexiest laugh lines. I’d not seen him this happy with me since our night at the airport. Any thoughts I had about returning the boots vanished. I’d take ten more overpriced and inappropriate presents from him if he’d keep looking at me like that.
“Melvin said he knew you need a pair because all the city girls do when they take to cowboys and two-stepping like you did at the BBQ.”
I chuckled and hugged the boots and jeans to my chest. “Sounds like Melvin.”
“I’ll stay out here with the horses while you change.” He picked up my notepad from the front step and put it in the saddlebag where he’d had the jeans and boots.
I rushed back into the guest house and to my bedroom, toeing off my sneakers as I crossed the threshold. His Stetson sat in the middle of the bed. I shucked my running pants and pulled on the jeans, not looking at his hat. If I wanted to chicken out, now would be the time. It would be easy to bring the hat outside with me after I changed. Tell him I didn’t mean it. That I’d been messing around.
I pulled tall socks on and picked up the boots. They were beautiful. A warm tan color, and the shafts were embroidered with white and yellow daisies. Definitely vintage, but the soles were new. The boots were soft and still warm from the heat outside when I slipped my foot in. It wasn’t a perfect fit, it was the most perfect. I tugged on the second one and walked a few circles around the room. Hopefully, Melvin gave Atley the working cowboy discount because I was never giving these boots back.
I stopped in front of the mirrored closet doors. I looked great.
My eyes sparkled with excitement, and my hair was windblown into a beachy style I could never recreate with a curling iron and a hundred dollars worth of product. The jeans fit remarkably well, and the boots were heaven. Texas looked good on me.
This evening’s mission was twofold. Part one, Atley and I were going to have a super professional meeting about the dancehall. We had to get things moving because my social media ad campaign would start running as soon as the new Blue Star Wines website was live. And my web designer was almost ready to launch.
Part two, proposition a cowboy. We were both adults and, as he said, there was nothing simple about our chemistry. It was overwhelming and I would not pass up the chance to indulge. I deserved toe-curling, hot animal attraction sex. At my age, this could be my last hurrah before I shriveled up into an old lady. Okay, that was melodramatic, but some days it seemed accurate. I had chin hairs, for God’s sake. No one imagines a sex goddess having to get out a magnifying mirror and pluck her chin regularly.
I checked out my ass one last time in the new jeans and tucked in my shirt. The contrast stitching on the pockets of these Wranglers made my butt look spectacular.
Turning on the heel of my new boots, I didn’t look back at Atley’s hat as I left the house. His Stetson was staying right there because if he wanted it, he’d have to come and take it.
“That looks, er, you look—” Atley rubbed a hand over the back of his neck and searched for a word.
I popped a model-worthy pose on the front step, one hand on my hip, leg extended to show off the boots.
“You look fine, darling.” His low drawl was gruff and grumbly. It left no question. He didn’t mean fine like okay. It was fine, like a heartthrob from the cover of Teen Beat magazine hot.
“I have an excellent stylist.” I sauntered down the steps and stopped in front of him and the horses. This close, desire arced between us, charging the air with unseen electricity. Goosebumps popped out on my arms and my nipples hardened. Only inches separated us, and we lingered, looking at each other but not speaking or daring to touch. I was lightheaded with anticipation.
The palomino horse shook his head to chase away a fly, breaking the current that bound us together. I sucked in a deep breath, looking for my equilibrium. In an act of self-preservation, I shoved my hands in the pockets of my new jeans to keep from ripping off Atley’s shirt and ravaging him.
“This is Flower. She’s about the sweetest horse in Texas.” Atley patted the horse’s neck and slipped his sunglasses back on.
I patted the horse’s forehead and moved to her left side to check the length of the stirrups. Atley stepped behind me, his arms coming around to help me adjust them shorter. The cold silver of his belt buckle grazed my back through my shirt. I grabbed the saddle to stop myself from leaning into his chest.
“I can get the other side once you’re on the horse.” His words whispered over my shoulder.
I nodded, not sure I’d have been able to produce more than a flustered squeak if I tried to speak.
“Bend your left leg. I’ll boost you up.”
I adjusted my hold on the saddle, and he grabbed my bent leg and all but tossed me onto the horse’s back. A surprised giggle bubbled up at how easy he’d made it.
He fitted my foot into the stirrup, his hand lingering on my thigh, burning through the denim. “Is this good?”
Mmm, yes please, cowboy, toss me around like I weigh nothing. “Sure, perfect length.” I sounded breathless.
I sorted my reins while he fixed my other stirrup and mounted his horse.
