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Evan becomes stiff as a board, and I elbow him. “Lighten up before you scare the poor girl away.”
He stifles a sarcastic laugh, and his entire demeanor changes as she stops at the nurses’ station. I hear her ask for Dr. Bishop, and he rolls his eyes with a deep groan.
“What’s wrong with you?” I ask him.
His jaw tightens. “That’s her. That’s the woman who stole my goddamn clothes,” he says under his breath, shaking his head and scrubbing a hand over his scruffy jawline.
Amelia and I both turn our heads and get a good look at her. She’s gorgeous, stunning actually. Her chestnut brown hair is pulled back into a long, sleek ponytail, and she’s wearing a black pencil skirt so tight it could be painted on. Her cream blouse is tucked into her skirt, revealing a small waist. Her slender legs are accompanied by red heels at least three inches high. Black glasses frame her dark eyes and the deep red lipstick she’s wearing says she doesn’t take anyone’s shit—the ultimate man eater.
As I glance back at Evan, I’m dying inside trying to hold it together. What are the odds?
“It was her?” I ask, confused. “Emily?” My jaw drops. “I thought mystery girl’s name was Stella?”
“So did I,” he says between gritted teeth, and now it all makes sense. Ultimate man eater confirmed, except she chews them up and spits them out.
Evan shakes his head and crosses his arms over his broad chest. The air in the room seems to dissipate and is replaced with thick awkwardness. Someone points out Evan, and she smiles then walks toward us. Once closer, recognition and maybe a hint of regret flash across Emily’s face before she pushes the emotions away and continues forward.
Before she can even open her mouth, Evan speaks. “Emily? That’s real cute.” Evan throws shade her way.
She sucks in a deep breath and releases it. “And you’re Dr. Bishop, aren’t you?”
Going to work just got way more interesting.
You can continue reading Hitching the Cowboy and Catching the Cowboy to get their kids’ stories or you can read Needing Him to get Evan’s story
Wedding bells are the last thing on twenty-two year old Riley Bishop’s mind, but that’s exactly what he hears after waking up in Vegas next to a woman he just met—his new wife.
He never saw her coming, but she might be worth the risk.
Zoey Mitchell is high on life, free spirited, and adventurous. However, learning she married a rowdy cowboy after a night of partying is not what she expected—even for her.
She’s risking it all, gambling with her heart.
Deciding to give their instant marriage a chance, Zoey moves from her big city life to a small town Texas ranch. She has to know if their connection is based on more than just a wild one-night stand before announcing to her family that she got hitched.
One moment changes everything—for better or worse—and a secret could destroy them both.
And we'll build this love
From the ground up
For worse or for better
And I will be all you need
Beside you I'll stand
“From the Ground Up”
-Dan + Shay
PROLOGUE
RILEY
My entire body feels as if I’ve been plowed down by a heavy ass tractor. Even trying to roll over makes me ache, and when I blink my eyes open, I realize I’m in my hotel room at the Bellagio in Las Vegas. The wide-open curtains allow the unforgiving sun to shine through the windows, blaring in my face.
“Fuuuuuck,” I mutter as my head throbs, and I curse myself for how much I drank last night. Diesel, my best friend since grade school, turned twenty-one two days ago, and a weekend trip to Vegas was my gift to him. I’m fourteen months older and felt it was my duty to get him shit-faced in Sin City. Getting away was the only way to properly celebrate his birthday, considering we bust our asses working on the ranch six days a week. If he’s feeling the same way I am, then mission accomplished.
Chuckling to myself, then groaning at how badly it hurts to laugh, I attempt to slide out of bed, but my arm is stuck under a body. Blinking, I realize a woman is lying against me.
With dirty blond hair and sun-kissed skin, she looks like a goddess sprawled out under the sheets that rest at her bare waist. Looking down, I see we’re both naked, and flashes of last night flood my mind.
Zoey. Thinking for a moment, I’m almost positive that’s her name. At least I hope.
I first saw her with a group of girls at a club when I dared Diesel to participate in an amateur stripper night. Miraculously, we ran into each other again, but now, she’s here with me. My head pounds, but I try to ignore the pain as I recall all the details.
