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“The why doesn’t matter. You forget, darlin’, it’s notmyfirst rodeo.”
She felt his hand drop to her hip, resting there like a sizzling brand of possession.
One distraction. Surely she could handle one distraction without throwing her whole plan awry. Then his second hand met her chin, tilting it up. But, to her great disappointment, he pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Why don’t you give me your number, Boston, and we can continue this on the other side of the mint juleps?”
Under crushing disappointment, she blushed. “Yes, okay,” she agreed, mostly to avoid dying of embarrassment. If he didn’t move his hand from her chin, she feared she’d melt into a puddle right then and there.
If it were possible to want him more, to her consternation, she now did.
He handed her his phone. “Why don’t you just make a new contact? Wouldn’t want this number to get wet.” He grinned, dimples peeking from his stubbled cheeks.
Not his first rodeo indeed.
