Page 41 of A Cowboy in the Streets

Zack Hale was the polar opposite of his older brother. Where Adam was scowls and grunts, Zack was smiles and charm. Like his brothers, he had the Hale blue eyes and jawline that could rival the Rocky Mountains for rugged strength. But his hair was a lighter brown, shot through with warm honey, and he had a dimple that promised a good time.

And good lord, the man was a flirt.

“Heard you had some trouble at the hotel,” Zack said as we all sat down at a corner booth. His blue eyes were the picture of faux concern. “You can shack up with me for the night.”

“Thanks, but I’d rather take the floor than share a bed with you,” Adam said drily. “I spent enough nights sleeping in a tent with you to know you kick like a donkey.”

“I wasn’t talking to you,” Zack said. “The offer was for James.”

Adam’s face darkened like a storm moving over the mountains. Zack leaned back and flashed me a wink, clearly delighted at having gotten under his brother’s skin.

“Thanks,” I said. “But I’m happy where I am.”

Zack’s eyebrows shot up. My cheeks heated as I realized he took my words to mean I was happy to sleep with Adam. “Is that so?” he smirked.

“For fuck’s sake, Zack,” Adam said, exasperated. “I’m taking the floor.”

“I didn’t even have to rock, paper, scissors him for the bed,” I chimed in. “He was a perfect gentleman about it.”

A cowboy in the streets, a beast in the sheets.

Maybe Chloe had it right. Too bad I was never going to find out. I hid my blush behind a sip of my vodka soda. Damn Chloe and her agenda to get me laid. When I had opened the white paper bag she had given us with our coffee, I had found a handful of condoms in there with the muffins. Fortunately, I had managed to sneak them into my bag before Adam could see.

I had no intention of saving a horse this weekend. Especially not with a cowboy who was still hung up on his deceased ex-wife.

We made it an early night—Zack, for all his bad boy vibes, took his rodeo work seriously and needed his sleep—and were back in our room by 9:30. I claimed the bathroom first to brush my teeth and change into my pajamas, which consisted of a flimsy tee shirt and tiny shorts. I kept my sports bra on, even though I was dying to shed it.

By the time I was ready for bed, Adam had put a pillow and blanket on the floor. The second he headed into the bathroom, I returned them to the bed.

Predictably, he scowled when he saw what I had done. “James—”

“Hear me out.” I held up a hand. “If waking up with a sore back is something you enjoy, fine. Sleep on the floor. I won’t stop you. But if you’re doing it to save my reputation or for whatever stupid notions of chivalry are in your brain, just don’t. We’re adults. I can sleep next to you the same way I would sleep next to Chloe if this happened. I trust you.”

“I’m taking the floor,” he ground out.

My eyes narrowed. Maybe this wasn’t about whether I trusted him. Maybe he didn’t trust me. “Is this about Emily?”

He stared at me like I was speaking gibberish. “What?”

“Because of what happened in your office. You think I can’t keep my hands to myself? That’s ridiculous. It doesn’t matter that you look like that”—I gestured wildly at his stupidly muscular body—“and it doesn’t matter that kissing you pretty much melted all my brain cells. I understand that no means no.”

He kept right on staring at me while I babbled like an idiot.

“I’m not worried about you, James. I’m worried about me. Because you’re wearing those sexy fucking shorts and seventy percent of your body is wearing nothing at all. That’s a lot of uncovered skin and at some point, that skin is going to come into contact with my skin.”

“Oh,” I said.

“That’s not even the worst part.”

“What’s the worst part?” I asked.

“When that happens, I’m going to do the right thing. I’m going to keep my hands to myself. And fuck, that’s going to hurt.”

“Oh,” I sighed.

“Yeah,” he said. “Oh.” He looked at the floor and shook his head. “I guess I’d rather have an aching cock than an aching back. Get in bed, buttercup.”

I scooted under the covers, and he came in after me, flicking out the light of the bedside table lamp as we settled in.

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