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A bit of a lie but...
“Who the fuck is this?” Rodney said, his eyes turning feral.
“You should watch your language around the lady,” Reed said, straightening and cracking his knuckles. Georgia swore she heard strains of “High Noon” in the background. So that’s where Reed drew the line? Cursing?
“You gonna make me or something?” Rodney put his hands on his hips, puffing up like a rattlesnake about to strike.
Georgia stepped in front of Rodney and pressed a hand to his chest. “Go back inside. A willing lady is a dime a dozen for a cowboy like you.” Lying like a dog didn’t come easy. Georgia would have rather treated Rodney’s head like a volleyball and delivered a good thumping. He deserved as much.
Rodney ripped his attention from Reed and sneered at her. “Know what? I think I will. You ain’t my type after all.” He slid around Georgia and brushed by Reed, muttering no doubt more obscenities under his breath. The metal door opened and slammed shut, leaving Georgia alone with Reed.
Which was much more dangerous.
“I could have handled him,” she said.
Reed shook his head. “Yeah, but this ain’t Boston, and boys like Rodney ain’t soft-handed poetry types. They expect things when a woman flirts, accepts his drinks, and comes outside with him.”
Anger made her straighten, her ears tingle. “Oh, so you think I should have hiked up my dress and let him rut me like a buck ’cause he bought me a four-dollar beer? I’m pretty sure no still means no... even in Texas.”
Reed snorted. “You know that’s not what I meant.”
“Then why did you say it? I don’t owe any man anything I’m not willing to give, and I don’t need you to play Daddy McCormick.”
Reed inclined his head. “My thoughts about you are far from fatherly.”
“Oh? Well...” And she couldn’t think of a damn witty comeback. Georgia Hightower, she of the wiseass cracks, could think of nothing.
Reed arched an eyebrow, acknowledging his effect on her. But how could he know how much she wanted him? She hadn’t shown... okay, maybe she couldn’t stop looking at his full bottom lip or his kind, blue eyes. Maybe he could feel the way her heart tripped over itself... the way her tummy felt warm and gooey.
“I gotta go,” she said, rubbing her arms as if she couldn’t tolerate another second in the cold.
“Wait,” he said, touching her arm.
His hands weren’t warm. They couldn’t be. It was too frickin’ cold. Still, heat radiated from him, making her crave his warmth.
So instead of running, she stepped to him, placing both her hands flat against his chest. Inhaling his unique scent, she lifted her eyes to meet his gaze.
Too late to see what he felt, because his head dipped toward hers, his lips capturing hers.
If he were chocolate cake, she was a dieter. So, so, so good... and forbidden. She’d said no cowboys. But once his lips touched hers, she couldn’t stop. Forget freakin’ mantras.
He tasted like whiskey and hot man.
Potent.
Her hands somehow found themselves sliding up to brush the short hair at the nape of his neck as his tongue traced the bottom of her lip.
Dear Gussy, he could kiss.
Framing her face, Reed angled her head, taking the kiss deeper, wetter, spiraling them both toward that line that once crossed led to jeans pooling around boots.
Loud laughter spilled into the night air, pulling them back to where they stood in the cool Texas night outside a honky-tonk where anyone might see them.
Breaking the kiss, Georgia stepped backward, swiping a hand over her mouth. “Jesus.”
His eyes twinkled. “Nope. You can call me Reed.”
Her mouth actually dropped open at his cocky remark.
