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He’d thought she was a typical artsy city girl starving herself to stay thin and lounging in a minimalist apartment. But he’d let his prejudice blind him. She didn’t have any furniture. She’d didn’t have real food, probably because she had no way to cook it. Or just no money at all.
At least he had his answer about whether she’d stolen that eight thousand dollars. He doubted she had eighty dollars.
Cole grabbed two beers, popped the tops and headed for the bedroom.
Yeah, she’d taken off her jeans but kept on her faded blue T-shirt and bright yellow panties. That was a good thing, Cole assured himself as he handed her a beer. He wanted to talk, and if she were naked, he’d likely be distracted by her ass. Or her breasts. Or that tempting triangle of perfect hair between her legs.
Yeah. This was good.
But just in case she preferred a bit more skin, he stripped down to his briefs as she climbed up to the bed and rested her back against the headboard. He took the other side and clinked his beer against hers. “Here’s to a fine evening.”
“Hell, yeah.”
He was taking a drink when he felt her hand on his thigh. She touched him lightly and then lifted her fingers to hover over him. “Does it hurt?”
“Yeah. But not when you touch it. The incision is long healed.”
Her hand lowered again, the warm pads of her fingers brushing cautiously over the ugly slash of scar tissue. “What happened?”
“You already heard. A horse panicked. A fresh-broke stallion. Somebody started a diesel engine right next to the corral. He panicked and reared and backed into a horse I was leading. The stallion lost his footing and came down right on top of me.”
“Yeah, but this is a surgical scar.”
“The femur was shattered. They had to put plates and screws in.”
She traced the longest scar, then lightly touched each of the round white spots that looked like bullet holes. “But it’s okay now?”
“Not quite.”
“But it will be?”
“There’s a good chance.”
Her eyes rose to his as she pressed her hot palm to his thigh. “You’ll be okay.”
He smiled, entranced to see her being sweet. “You think?”
“I do. You’re a big, strong cowboy.”
“Not as strong as I used to be.”
“Mmm. But just as big.” Her fingers dragged playfully over his cock, which already felt pleasantly heavy from all the attention in such close proximity.
“Flatterer,” he murmured.
“I can be charming when I have to.”
He leaned in to touch her hip and press a kiss to her neck. “Charm comes in a lot of different packages.”
“Don’t expect too much.”
“All right.” He pushed the hem of her shirt up just enough to let his thumb graze the black lines of her tattoo. “Tell me about your tattoo.”
“I already told you about it.”
“No, you didn’t.”
She tilted her head a little, a hint that she wanted another kiss. So he kissed her again, then caught her earlobe between his teeth for just a second.
