“Am I…what?” I whisper.
He leans in, face above mine. From this angle, I can see his eyes up close. There’s no doubt he’s from Harlan.There’s only one place that produces eyes like that. Pale, almost shocked up close, like he saw something he’ll never forget and it’s burned into his brain.
“Are you looking for more than a drink tonight?” he asks.
“You’re bold.”
The corner of his mouth turns up. Lord, he’s pretty, roughed up and still breathless from the ring.
“You don’t like it?” he says.
“I am mortified, sir,” I tease.
He can’t stop smiling, and it’s giving him a single dimple beneath his stubble. “I’ve got a feeling you can handle me,” he says. “Might take both hands, but I believe in you.”
I gasp, laughing out loud. “Well, look at you—”
“Go right ahead,” he says, flicking something inside his mouth. “I like it.”
His jaw ripples,and I see a flash of white. He’s got gum between his back teeth. For some reason, I find that incredibly hot. Lord, he’s reeling me in fast. I’ve never been flirted with before. Leland just pushed in like a bull in a china shop and tried to force our relationship. The feeling of being wanted by an attractive man feels like being drunk. It’s shutting off the rational part of my brain.
“Let’s see if you can earn it,” I say.
“I’m a hard worker.”
He shifts closer, his body inches from mine. He’s leaning his elbow on the counter, beer in his other hand. His eyes drop to my cleavage rising above the tan fringe dress. I picked this dress because it’s stunning on me, and I needed to look irresistible tonight. Clearly, it’s working.
I glance down. There’s a slight rise beneath his zipper.
“What’s going on down there, cowboy?” I arch a brow.
He doesn’t break eye contact. “Standing ovation for the prettiest girl in the room.”
“Oh, well, in that case, let your flag fly.” My face is on fire.
“I’ll keep it at half-mastfor now,” he says. “Hoping for an opportunity to let it go full mast later.”
“Lord,” I whisper. “You are dirty.”
He leans in, eyes filling my vision. “I’d be happy with a kiss and a phone number.”
I smile, shaking my head. “I reward based on performance.”
“I’m highly motivated.”
“I can see that,” I say, waving a hand at the crowd around the ring. “How long have you been fighting in the stockyards?”
He has a sip of beer. I see him up close, like a snapshot. His skin is tanned, like he works in the sun, and therearefaint lines around his pale blue eyes that I find so sexy. Up close, his hair has a few grays at his temple, but he’s fit, lean, and broad. It’s hard to tell how old he is just by looks.
“About twenty years,” he says.
“That’s quite a while. Practice makes perfect, hmm?”
“In all areas.”
“You have a filthy mind,” I say.
He shifts to face the bar. Something warm and rough touches my bare thigh. Heart thumping, I glance down to see his hand, still wrapped from his fight, brush my skin.
