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“Very hard.” She puts the wooden spoon down and turns to me so that our bodies are almost pressed together.
I hand her a glass of wine and take a big swig of my drink to stop myself from throwing her over my shoulder and taking her to bed. She does the same and when she pulls her glass away from her mouth, there’s a drop of wine on her lips. I’m
overcome by the urge to lick it off, but I don’t. Instead, I lift my hand and wipe it away with my thumb, then lick my thumb. Julia flushes and looks up at me under those long eyelashes, her chest heaving with her breath. The heat between us is intense, like a forest fire out of control.
I shake my head. “How’s the wine?”
“Delicious.”
“Most terrible ideas are.”
“I know what you mean.” Her voice is almost a whisper and I know what she wants. But I can’t give it to her. Not when I’m feeling what I’m feeling about her. Not when I’m going to see her again in Vegas, during the most important week of my life.
It takes every ounce of willpower to move away from her. I pour myself another wine, hoping to put out these flames. She walks over and holds her glass out to me. When I turn to her, I start to pour it, then pause. “You sure? You said you’re a cheap drunk.”
“I’m feeling a little reckless this evening.” She gives me a look that only means one thing.
I try to ignore it and pour her another drink.
Seven
Julia
By the time supper is ready, I’m tipsy and horny as I’ve ever been. The kitchen is so warm and cozy that I’ve peeled off my tall, leather boots and rid myself of my tights. We set the table together and sit down across from each other but the only thing I can think about is him putting those big hands on me. My mind swirls with all the moments we’ve shared in one short afternoon—him carrying me out of the snow, his hand on my back while I interviewed him, us laughing and cooking together. I want him, even though I know I shouldn’t. We have nothing in common. He’s a cowboy, for god’s sake. But, what would it be like to be touched by him? I have a feeling it would be heaven on earth.
The snow keeps coming down outside and at this moment, when I’m warm and dry and a little drunk, I want it to never stop. I want to stay in this moment forever. Well, maybe if this moment leads to us in bed together.
“This stew is delicious,” I say, knowing that my tone is one a nice girl would never use.
“It’s extra good because we did it together.” He smiles and I know that he’s thinking what I’m thinking.
“Do you cook with your girlfriend?”
“Don’t have one,” he says, breaking off a piece of a bread roll and dipping it in his bowl.
“Your fiancée, then?” I ask, feeling too tipsy to be embarrassed.
“Don’t have one of those either.” He pops the bread in his mouth and I’m mesmerized by the sight of his lips. “Do you cook with your boyfriend?”
I shake my head and run my fingertips over the collar of my dress. “Don’t have one of those either. Not for a long time.”
“A girl like you without a man is like a cowboy without a horse.”
“Oh yeah? How so?”
“You can’t be very happy without something to ride.”
My entire body heats up at the way he’s looking at me. I want to ride something all right. And he’s hiding it in those tight Levi’s. I press my thighs together to prolong the tingle inside. “And are you a good ride?”
“Honey, if you rode me, you’d never want to stop.” He picks up his spoon and gets back to eating in a nonchalant way like he didn’t just say that.
“Is that so?” I have another sip of wine, even though I’ve had more than enough already. “Well if I rode you, you’d never want another girl on your…saddle again.”
He chuckles and shakes his head at me while I blush a little at what a brazen woman I’m turning out to be. I can’t even believe myself right now. I’m practically throwing myself at Rider. He’s turning me into a total hussy.
“You should eat up,” he says. “Soak up a little of that wine.”
I flush again, feeling a little stupid that he’s suggesting I’m too drunk. I lift my spoon to my mouth without saying a word. As I finish the bowl, my mind processes what just happened and I start to feel annoyed. He’s the one who started the serious flirting, then he shut it down hard when I tried to turn up the heat a little. Maybe he can’t handle a girl like me. Or maybe he likes to lead women on, then reject them. Or maybe he just doesn’t find me attractive. The thought makes my gut twist and I want to get out of here. Damn storm.
