Page 64 of Ruthless Love

He loves me.

And he’s a father?

Chapter Thirty-Seven

AUSTIN

Halfway through the parking lot, I realize I’m still dressed for a Western porno. Which means that the catcalls from a few drunk cougars are more than deserved, and my keys, along with the rest of my clothes, are still in the dressing room.

Shit.

When I whip around, I nearly plow Evie down, and need to grab her tight to keep her from bouncing off me. Although in truth, my need to hold her against me is just that. A need that I’ve been desperate for. Her small frame fits against mine, and whatever distance I thought I’d wedged between us evaporates.

“Austin,” she says with a tenderness I’ve been dying for. “I didn’t know she was your daughter. I saw the two of you, and she’s so beautiful and tall, and you had your arm around her, and she ...” Evie’s careful with her words, taking a moment selecting them. “She looks nothing like you.”

A small smile warms my face, and I look down on her. “She looks exactly like her mother.”

Pride wells up inside me, filling me until it’s overflowing. Confiding in Evie is easy and relaxed, so I keep talking.

“Her long black curls and dark skin are all her mom. But she’s got my eyes, a tiny piece of myself that I can see every time I look at her and know to the depths of my soul that she’s mine. That and her love of motorcycles.”

Evie stays snug in my arms, and her voice comes out soft and sweet. “Why didn’t you tell me you have a daughter?”

The deep breath I take makes me realize this is a story better suited for anywhere other than a parking lot, with me dressed for bump-and-grind duty direct from the Lone Star state.

“How about we get out of here?” I ask, and Evie’s nod gives me enough invitation to kiss her.

But I can’t leave when she looks like this. Her hair blowing in the breeze. Her eyes bright. Her body relaxed against mine.

I remove the large hat crowding her delicate face and take her jaw in my hand. The slow graze I lay across her lips draws them open, releasing the sweetest sigh from her mouth.

My kiss starts with a soft press that deepens, and my tongue tastes her slowly, savoring her with one swipe, and then another, enjoying the way her coaxing tongue tangles with mine.

My erection grows against her soft curves, but doesn’t last long. The sharp smack across an exposed cheek of my ass is a jolt. Our kiss breaks apart.

“Yee-haw, cowboy! How about a two for one?”

Evie and I both turn, facing her friend—Jean, I think—who’s walking the fine line between sloppily hammered and totally wasted.

“Jean,” Evie says, her sharp voice a blend of coaching and embarrassment. “This is Austin.”

Jean scans me up and down several times with wide eyes, squinting as she takes a moment to process Evie’s words, then mouths to her, “The hooker?”

Evie sinks her bright red face into my shoulder, mumbling, “No. He’s not a hooker.”

The disappointment that drifts off Jean is palpable, but she composes herself as best she can, tipsy but standing upright. “Oh. Hi.” Her professionalism surfaces, most likely out of habit, and she extends a hand.

I shake her hand, saying, “Howdy,” entirely for Evie’s benefit, and sensing her discomfort, I thicken my natural accent and double down on it. “I reckon you need a ride, ma’am.”

When Evie gives me a stern glance, I chuckle but clarify.

“I mean a lift. You took a taxi here. Can I drive you ladies home?”

Jean nods, settling into the overpowering effects of her booze binge.

“I’ll be right back,” I say, leaving the lightest peck on Evie’s lips.

Brisk in my steps, I head back to the club to get my clothes, but not before hearing Jean say to Evie, “I thought you said he was a hooker?”

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