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“I care what you all think of me. I want you to know I didn’t move to Dallas to turn your town upside down with wild rumors. So if anyone asks, I want you to know you heard it from the horse’s mouth—and I don’t mean Edison’s.”
A few enthusiastic shouts fly out. I think if they could elect that old horse mayor, they would.
I’ve got ’em now.
Releasing Grace’s hand, I throw my arm around her, tugging her close. “Here’s the real news—I just got engaged! Her name’s Grace Sellers, and yes, her family owned a pumpkin farm in Wisconsin. No, she’s old enough to drink and do a whole lot more. Hell yeah, she’s loving Dallas just as much as I am, folks.”
The crowd erupts with raucous clapping, cheers, even a few wolf whistles. Those who were seated dart up, a standing ovation, shouting their congratulations.
“I was joking when I said I’d shout it from the streets,” Grace whispers as she leans her head on my shoulder.
Laughing, I spin her around, loving how the soft lights pool in her shimmering eyes.
The kiss is for show…until it isn’t.
It happens without warning, the instant my mouth finds hers.
Then my whole body goes rigid, electrified with white-hot wow.
Holy fuck.
I don’t even need the crowd hooting and hollering to celebrate kissing Grace Sellers for the first time, tasting what’s haunted me for too many sweltering nights.
She’s surprised, but she wants it as bad as I do.
Her lips part, offering an inch and the sweetest little whine.
I take an entire mile, finding her tongue, chasing her deeply, delicately at first in front of our audience.
Her arms tighten on my neck. She’s so far gone I think she’s over the crowd, too, and I pull her in closer, lost in the frenzy, claiming her bottom lip with my teeth.
We might have a hundred people around us, stuffed in the busy bar.
But in our own heat, our passion, our need seething out of every pore and dancing on our lips, we’d might as well be the only two people ever made.
It’s scary how good her mouth feels on mine.
She tastes like sugar cut with some powerful drug designed to drive me mad.
It’s almost impossible to break away for air, remembering where we are.
As the noise dies down, I say into the mic, “Thank you, Dallas! Grace and I have known each other for a while now. I’ve had to work hard to convince her to give my ranch a try. She’s an interior designer. One hell of a designer, I’ll add. In just a few days, she transformed my house from a yuppie mausoleum into a home I’m proud to call mine for the rest of my life.” I laugh, delivering a good dose of acting when I say, “I was under the impression that just being married to me would be enough.”
Laughter fills the room as Grace looks at me and shakes her head.
Once again, I wait for the noise to fade.
“Seriously, folks, thank you from the bottom of my heart. Now you’ve heard it from me, so if anyone asks, you know the real story. Be sure to set ’em straight—and make sure they pay you, too. The jackals where I come from will spend an arm and a leg on gossip.”
I wave the singer closer, throwing my free arm around the kid. He gives me a goofy grin.
“Before I hand the mic back to my man, I have one more announcement I’m sure you’ll be thrilled with. Everybody’s bar tab from now until midnight is on Ridge Barnet, so bottoms up!”
15
No Controlled Burn (Grace)
I can’t decide if I’ve ever been more embarrassed or more awed in my life.
I’m still trying to pull my jaw off the ground. Ridge had that crowd eating right out of his hand.
And what he did to me?
Insane.
Indescribable.
Absolutely deadly.
His kiss took me by surprise the first second. Thirty seconds later, it took me over.
He knew when to tease, when to chase, when to spar, and when to give.
I wonder if I’m even in a solid state after melting under his heat, tasting the sexy torment of his lips. And of course I’m already addicted.
That kiss was performance art.
If I didn’t know the truth, I’d think we really are engaged.
Not just from his little speech, but the way he’s still all over me, running a firm hand down the small of my back…
Oh my God.
My panties are so wet it’s a struggle to move by the end of the night. The man is a freaking magician when he can make me believe in an illusion I’m supposedly in on.
His touch was too real, like a man who’s been awestruck by the woman he’s promised to marry.
A woman he’s seriously in love with.
He hasn’t left my side all night between introducing us to the townspeople, praising me like I was sent down just for him, hugging me, teasing me.
