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“He’s just interested in Lost Cowboy’s sponsorship.”

Liv patted her hand. “You keep tellin’ yourself that, girlfriend.”

“How’s this one look?”

“God, Bullet, would you stop changin’ your shirt? The last five you tried on looked fine.”

“I’m goin’ for better than fine, Lyric.”

“Why’s that? Somebody gonna be at the dinner tonight you’re aimin’ to impress?”

“Heard there’s a new batch of barrel racers gonna be there.” He was lying. He didn’t care about anyone invited other than Tristan.

When he brought Grey over to play with Caden this morning, he’d asked Liv if Tristan was arriving in time to attend the dinner, and she’d told him she was leaving in an hour to pick her up from the airport. If he hadn’t had so much work to do he would’ve offered to go in her place.

“Tristan McCullough’s the reason you’re in such a state, and we both know it.”

“Just tell me which shirt looks the best. This one or the green one?”

“The blue one. It makes your eyes look bluer.” Lyric rolled her eyes at him. “You’re not wearin’ those boots are you?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with ’em?”

“They could use a good polish for starters.”

“Shit. I don’t have time to polish my boots now. Why didn’t you say somethin’ earlier?”

“For goodness sake. Take ’em off. I’ll do it.”

“No, I’ll do it,” he grumbled. Damn, this woman had him rattled. He didn’t remember the last time he was this nervous. Maybe before the first time he got laid.

He saw her as soon as he walked into the bar. Tristan was across the room, talking to a cowboy he recognized. Stormy was his name, and he’d been bragging earlier about nailing a Lost Cowboy sponsorship.

She was looking mighty fine tonight, with her Cowgirl Tuff jeans tucked into her deep red boots, her red and silver fringed shirt hugging her womanly curves. The other cowboys had to have noticed too.

Something Stormy said made Tristan laugh, which burned a hole in Bullet’s gut. When he saw the guy reach out and touched her hair, it took Bullet all of five seconds to cross the room.

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sp; “Hey, asshole, I don’t think the lady wants you mawlin’ her.”

“Bullet!” Tristan gasped, and then looked at Stormy. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize for me.” Bullet leaned in closer to her. “Don’t mind you talkin’ with other fellas while you’re waitin’ on me, but I draw the line at them touchin’ you.”

“Waiting on you? Are you joking?” Tristan spun away from Bullet’s grasp on her arm, but Stormy had already walked away.

“Hey, darlin’, it sure is nice to see you.”

“Give me a break, Bullet. I told you once before, I’m not your darlin’. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a conversation to finish with one of our new riders.”

She shouldn’t have rubbed his nose in it like that, but he made her mad with his caveman antics.

“Can I buy you a drink, cowboy?” she approached Stormy, who was standing at the bar.

“Open bar, ma’am, but I’ll take a rain check if you’re willin’.”

“It would be my pleasure. I’m so sorry about Bullet. I don’t know—”

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