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Heat crawled up my neck at the inappropriate thoughts the sight invoked. “Point taken, ma’am, but this is worse than some pickup line,” I admitted, smiling at the way she narrowed her eyes at me in suspicion.

God, I needed to touch some grass. This was not how I usually reacted to a woman.

“Okay, I am going to humor you because my cousin’s in the bathroom, and at the very least, this will provide a great story to tell her.” Her big brown eyes raked over me in a way that felt like she was assessing me for weaknesses.

It was fascinating that she didn’t seem the least bit intimidated by me. Not that I wanted to intimidate her—quite the opposite—but with my stature, most men, let alone women, looked at me with caution.

Not her, though.

I leaned forward, resting my elbow on the polished bar top, moving into her personal space. There was no way I wanted anyone else to hear what I was about to ask. A warm and sensual scent hit me, and I had the strangest urge to run my nose along the column of her throat.

Instead of backing away, she only arched her brow higher. “Watch yourself, cowboy. I’ve got damn good aim when it comes to kicking someone in the balls.”

Of course she did. That only made me like her more.

“Good to know, but I hope you haven’t had to use that move too often.” The idea of men bothering her had protectiveness stirring in my chest, which didn’t make a lick of sense.

She shrugged a shoulder. “Most of the time, my glare is enough to scare them off. But that didn’t seem to work with you…” A small smirk played at the corner of her mouth when I didn’t respond. “So, Longest Ride, were you going to ask me your question or continue to stare at me? Oh, and by the way, if you’re going to ask for my number, the answer is no.”

I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. Probably because I’d been out of my damn mind to think it was a good idea to stop and talk to a random woman.

What was I supposed to say?

That her laugh reminded me of sunshine?

This was ridiculous.

I couldn’t pull a stranger into my shit.

“You’re right, that’s what I was going to ask, so I’ll just…” I moved to stand up, but a small, calloused hand gripped my wrist with surprising strength.

“If you’re going to lie, at least try to sound convincing. Because, unfortunately, there is this sick trait in me that can’t allow you to leave now without you asking me your real question. Otherwise, I will lay awake all night long wondering about what you were really going to ask.”

“Would you pretend to be my date?” The words tumbled out before I could stop them, immediately horrified I’d voiced the idea.

Who the fuck asks a random person that?

She blinked a few times before throwing her head back and laughing.

It was even better from this angle. It didn’t matter that she was laughing at me—I couldn’t stop the stupid grin plastered on my face.

When she looked back, her face fell.

“Hold on, you’re serious.”

FOUR

ARIELLA

LOOKING PRETTY, FEELING PETTY

He might be drop-dead gorgeous—climb him like a tree hot—but he was also out of his damn mind if he thought I was about to pretend to be his date, especially with such little information. Had he never watched Dateline?

Ugh. To be a man and never have to think of those things must be nice. Also, where the hell was my cousin?

“Ma’am, I’m afraid I’m dead serious.” His voice was smooth, with a slow southern drawl that curled around the edges.

He tipped his felt cowboy hat just enough to let those green eyes lock onto mine. With the moody lighting of the bar, the color reminded me of the forest. I’d seen a lot of hot men in those hats since moving to Dallas. They were on every street corner practically, or that’s how it felt after coming from the decidedly cowboy-free Bay Area.