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“That’ll buy groceries at the market for years,” Abbie commented.
I started to respond, but just as I opened my mouth, Cheyenne came walking into the room. I was struck once again by the dark brown hair and light sprinkling of freckles across her nose and cheeks. Not to mention that curvy figure that could easily make a man lose his mind.
“Have you met Cheyenne?” Abbie asked as her friend moved over to stand beside her. “She came all the way from Texas.”
Again, I was cut off from responding. But not before my gaze locked on Cheyenne’s and we shared another moment that made my cock stir.
“Grab some food, everyone. We’re heading into the living room.”
That came from Erika, the wedding coordinator. She was in charge of keeping everything moving along. I’d met her earlier. Apparently, something was going on with her and Bo’s dad’semployee, who’d been staying in this house before the wedding guests arrived.
I didn’t know anything about it, aside from the fact that Erika seemed to no longer be using her allotted bedroom. I wondered if I could work out the same arrangement with Cheyenne. I’d sure love to have that hot body straddling me in that queen bed.
The kitchen was half-empty by the time I figured out I needed to get my head back on straight. I had no intention of getting involved with a woman of any type. I’d moved to Blackbear Bluff to get some much-needed privacy.
But this was just one weekend. Monday morning, she’d be headed back to Texas, and I’d return to my cabin. A short fling couldn’t hurt anything, could it? Damn, that would be nice.
It had been at least two years since I’d been with a woman. I’d convinced myself I didn’t need it—I could take care of that myself. But maybe a romp with a hot, curvy woman in tight blue jeans was just what the doctor ordered.
There was an empty spot next to Cheyenne on the couch, and I wasn’t shy. I walked straight toward her.
“Is this seat taken?”
She shook her head, her eyes wide as she stared up at me. Her attention made me feel like the only guy in the world. The only guy who mattered, anyway.
Suddenly, I was taken back a decade—to that feeling I had when stadiums full of teenage girls cheered for me and my bandmates. It was hard not to get addicted to that sort of attention, and I had for a while. I got a little full of myself, actually. There were plenty of grown women who threw themselves at me as well, and I went for it. For a while, I even dated a fellow up-and-coming singer until she cheated on me with an actor. The whole thing just sent me on a downward spiral, driving me away from the entertainment industry for good.
I settled next to Cheyenne, my beer in my left hand and my plate on my lap. She held one of the small tumblers of wine that had been handed out to all the bridesmaids.
Across from us sat Dallas and his girlfriend, who were caught up in some sort of conversation. In fact, all around me were couples. When did that happen? When I arrived a couple of hours ago, it sure seemed like most of these people were single. Maybe everyone was just trying to get a piece of ass where they could.
“So, you live here?” Cheyenne asked, setting her tumbler on the coffee table in front of us.
She scooped up some salsa with a chip and prepared to bite into it. I wondered what it would take to get her to take a bite out of me. Maybe just wrap those full, soft lips around my...
Crap, I was blowing it. She asked me a simple question, and my mind had been too far in the gutter to hear it.
Cheyenne had taken a bite by then, and she had to chew and swallow before she could speak. As she reached forward to grab her tumbler, nearly knocking her plate over, I reached to help stabilize it. My fingers came into direct contact with her thigh. Well, it wasn’t exactly direct contact—there was some denim between my skin and hers. But the mere contact sent sparks flying through my body. Did she feel that too?
“Yep,” I said. “I came straight here after my military discharge. My buddy Brody told me about it. I built a cabin on the water. The town has pretty much all I need.”
Cheyenne sipped her wine as she stared at me over the top of her cup. When she lowered it, she asked, “Do you work on the logging crew?”
I shook my head. How did I explain that part of it? I didn’t want her, or anyone in this town, to know where my money came from.
“I, Gage, Brody, and quite a few others up in these mountains live off the land. We’re true mountain men.”
At that point, I realized I wasn’t eating. I was just focused on her and this conversation. All around us, others were chatting and laughing and chomping away, but as far as I was concerned, Cheyenne was the only other person in the room.
“Where are you from originally?” she asked.
I was just taking a bite of my deviled egg when the question came. Great. Now I was going to have to tell her the same story I told everyone else who asked.
“Born and raised in Oklahoma,” I said.
“Really?”
I looked over at her. Something about the tone of her voice said she didn’t believe me. Or at the very least, she hadn’t expected that answer.
