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“Do you come here a lot?” Eden asked him.
“Not really. It was so hot today, I just wanted to have a cold beer then head home.”
Eden smiled when Scarlett set her drink on the bar. She stood to remove her wallet from her back pocket.
“I’ll get that, Scarlett.” Ian pulled money from his wallet, handed it to her, and waved away the change.
It was killing him sitting here beside Eden. He could smell her light perfume and he wanted to bury his face in her neck and inhale. A slow song played, and Ian watched a cowboy ask her to dance, but she turned him down. Hell, she’d probably turn him down. He chugged the rest of his beer, set the empty bottle on the bar, and waved the bartender over. Laura Blackstone smiled at him as she headed for him.
“Another one, Ian?”
“No, thanks, Laura. I’m done. Just the tab, please.”
“Are you leaving?” Eden asked him.
“In a little while. I’m going to sit on the bench outside for a few minutes, take in the night air.” He stared into her eyes.
“Why?”
“Why not?”
“God, you are so damn difficult,” she muttered.
Ian chuckled. “I’m difficult?Hell, woman, you’re difficult personified.”
“Whatever,” she snapped, and he laughed.
“I’ll see you, Monday, Ms. Fairchild. Enjoy your evening.” He slid off the stool and walked out the door and strode across the lot toward his truck.
“Ian?”
He turned to see her following him and he frowned.
“Go back inside, Eden.”
“Ian—” she gasped when he grasped her arms and pushed her back against his truck.
“What? What is it you want, Eden?”
She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
He leaned down and hovered his lips above hers.
“Don’t you?” He didn’t give her time to answer as he placed his lips over hers, and kissed her hard, and deeply. He raised his lips, stared into her eyes, then stepped back. She gazed into his eyes, then turned, and walked across the parking lot.Shit.
Early the next morning, Ian drove into Clifton, and pulled into the Feed Store parking lot. He needed to pick up some feed for his horses.
After parking, he entered the store to see it packed, as was usual on a Saturday. He headed for the counter and had to stand in line.
“Hey, Ian.”
Ian turned to see Warren Coleman.
“Hey, Warren. How are you doing?”
“Good. You?”
“I’m good.”
