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“Would you care to dance?” he asked.
She looked over her shoulder at the small area of wood planking in front of the stage, where the band was playing some upbeat song. “I don’t know how,” she admitted.
“That’s all right. I know how to lead.”
She bet he did.
He stood, offering his hand. She took it, liking the way his calloused palms felt against hers, wanting to feel them roam the length of her body.
He led her to the middle of the floor next to an older couple. She smiled at the woman covered in turquoise jewelry.
Before she’d gained her footing, Tripp twirled her out, then brought her back into his arms. Charlotte squeaked, but managed to stay upright. Not that he seemed interested in letting her topple over. With one hand on the small of her back and the other in her hand, he led her around in effortless steps and she followed, stepping on his boot from time to time. Nice guy that he was, he didn’t mention it.
He spun her out again and brought her back. She felt his heat. His minty breath brushed over her lips, filling her with his laughter. She looked up to meet his eyes.
“My Lord, you’re beautiful,” he breathed.
Those words hit her hard, but more jarring was the look on his face. His brows knit and his voice was soft, as if he really meant it. No one had ever made her feel their words before.
But this cowboy she’d known only a few hours already had her spinning. Literally.
“Am I crazy?” she asked, before she could think better of it.
Tripp’s fingers feathered across her cheek, the shell of her ear. “I don’t know…are you?”
Adored. He made her feel adored. How was that even possible? They’d only just met. “I mean…what I’m feeling…you’re just…”—she waved her hands—“really hot.”
He barked out a laugh, then twirled her out and back again. “Why thank you, darlin’. And no, you’re not crazy. I like you, I just can’t fall too hard.”
“Then we’re on the same page,” she said.
He grinned. “But I am happy to be dancing with you.”
“Mmm,” she hummed. “I’ve never been so happy dancing before.”
“I’m glad I can give you a positive first experience.”
His voice thickened, each word washing over her body in waves of need. She knew enough to know A) she wanted this man, B) tomorrow they’d go their separate ways, and C) once she got back to L.A. she’d have to find a way to fulfill her cowboy fetish because something about a man, this man, in a Stetson and boots made her instantly wet.
The song ended, and on the final chord, Tripp dipped her and brought her back up to meet his gaze.
Now or never.
She just hoped he really was on the same page.
“Want to get some air?” she whispered.
His eyes darkened. “Yep.”
He took her by the hand and practically ran out of the bar. It was a clear, warm night, and Charlotte was ready to experience all Cheyenne had to offer, starting with Tripp.
…
Tripp was rusty on the dating scene, but he was pretty sure he was reading Charlotte’s signals correctly. Casual, no attachments. Hell, they didn’t even know each other’s last name. Which was fine by him, because he was enjoying her. Thoroughly.
She smiled up at him, and he instantly felt lighter.
God damn, a man could get addicted to that smile of hers.
