Page 19 of Wild and Wanted

What was it with this woman and fringes?

Not to mention a pair of red cowgirl boots that came to mid-calf. And in between? A whole lotta leg. A whole lotta flesh. Tanned, smooth, golden flesh.

Startled by her presence and the damn sway of that fringe, Clay screwed up the shot, hitting the white just off the mark and a triumphant Dev whooped.

‘Well lookie here,’ Ivan said quietly as he bent in close to Clay’s ear, relieving him of the stick.

Dev’s face lit up. ‘Hey, it’s Stevie.’

His friend’s easy familiarity with this woman was like needles being shoved into Clay’s eyeballs.

Mags followed closely behind in her standard jeans and T-shirt with a tractor logo on the front, and Dev’s smile faded as he muttered, ‘Aaand your sister,’ less enthusiastically. ‘Hey, brat.’

‘Nice to see you too, Devlin,’ Mags said, her lips twisted into a sarcastic smile.

Dev and Mags had known and been giving each other shit for the entire twelve years Dev had been working the ranch. Ever since he’d called her brat that first day they’d met after she’d whopped his ass at roping and hadn’t let Dev forget it. So, it was like water off a duck’s back to Clay.

He was pretty sure it was water off a duck’s back to everyone by now including themselves – a familiar patter neither knew how to shake.

Given Mags gave him – her only sibling – shit most of the time, too, it was practically his sister’s love language. Hell, it was almost her entire personality. ‘What are you guys doing here?’ Clay asked when he was finally able to form words.

‘Cookout was done and Stevie and I, being hot and single, decided to hit the town.’

Clay was pretty sure hitting the town had not been Stevie’s idea. But there was no part of him that objected to her being here with his sister even though the wisest course of action would be to leave. He was excruciatingly aware he had a bad case of the hots for her and that dress was not helping the situation. Not even the slim silver band on her hand was counteracting the effect of that dress.

Beau appeared with two Buds, handing them to the women. Mags immediately downed half of hers and burped loudly, her eyes daring Dev to comment.

He, wisely, did not.

‘Rack ’em up?’ Mags asked. ‘Gals versus guys?’ She smiled sweetly at Ivan. ‘You don’t mind sitting out, do you, so we can hand both these bozos their asses?’

Ivan grunted his consent as he passed her his cue.

Ignoring his sister, Clay clocked the awkward way Stevie held the beer bottle and realised she was probably a non-drinker as well. Not that he gave a shit, it was just another reminder that they had nothing in common, so why the fuck had his brain set its sights on her?

He quirked an eyebrow at her. ‘Can you even play?’

A flicker of something burned like white flame in Stevie’s eyes as she jutted her chin. ‘They have pool tables in Boston.’ And then, raising the bottle to her mouth, she pressed her lips to the glass and took several long swallows as she eyed him over the rim.

Had she yanked down his zipper and shoved her hands in his pants, Clay doubted the speed with which his cock reacted could be swifter.

Fucking hell. She was turning him fifteen again.

Unfortunately there was no erection-killing burp, either. Just her mouth glistening temptingly in the fluorescent light after she’d drunk her fill.

Thankfully Mags interrupted the moment by striding forward and pulling a ten-dollar note out of the front pocket of her jeans and laying it on the table. ‘Too chicken?’ she challenged, but Clay was pretty sure it wasn’t directed at him.

Dev half snorted as he grabbed the triangle from the wall rack and reset the table.

Clay played terribly. Yes, sure, Dev – whose father had been a professional pool hustler before he’d hustled the wrong person in a Texan bar one night, leading to his demise – was far better, but Clay was no slouch.

Unfortunately, he’d been far too aware of where Stevie was every single second of the three games they’d played, completely ruining his concentration. Aware of the little mou of concentration that pursed her lips and puckered her brow as she lined up her shot. Aware that when she bent over the table to pot a ball, that dress rode up, outlining her ass to perfection and causing the fringe to caress the backs of her thighs. Aware of her long hair brushing against the felt.

Aware that his dick was stubbornly, painfully erect.

‘Jesus, dude, with partners like you I don’t need enemies,’ Dev muttered as Clay missed another shot he’d usually be able to make blindfolded.

Consequently they lost all three games, Dev’s skills no match for Clay’s current ineptitude with the stick. And Mags was gleeful, whooping as she scooped up the prize pool and fluffed it not far from Dev’s face.