Page 8 of Catching the Cowgirl

“You need a password." When I glance over at him, he pauses. “Never fucking mind.” Jackson drops down into the chair I just vacated.

I’ve never needed a password for a computer in my life. I suppose one of the pros to having absent parents is it gives you a lot of free time to do whatever you want. I used that time wisely, learning everything I could.

“There isn’t anything on here I couldn’t find out if I wanted to, without ever touching your computer.” I’m not being arrogant, just honest. Hacking into people’s home computers is child’s play to me.

“Don’t remind me.”

“Why would you agree to a bachelorette party?” I mutter, annoyed as shit.

“You’ve met my sister. I either let them do it or she’ll sneak and do it.” This is true. When June gets her mind set on something, there is no changing it. The girl is determined.

I start pulling up available cameras on phones. For a second, I think maybe I clicked the wrong location because I see a group of women in their late sixties sitting together. “Is that yarn?”

Jackson gets up to make his way around the desk. "That's the Crafty Stitches. It’s a sewing group.”

“They have their group at a bar?”

“No, I’m sure June invited them.” Jackson shrugs.

“Paisley sews?” He barks a laugh.

“No, that’s June bug.” Right. It shouldn’t be shocking to me. That is very June. “Are you on people's phone cameras?” I don’t bother responding. I’m not sure if he’s shocked or impressed.

Finally, after shuffling through a few dozen, I found my kitten in one of them. Someone is actually recording. “What is she doing?” I grit out.

“It looks like she is leading the line dance.”

“On top of a fucking bar!” I shout. Jackson gives me another one of those shrugs that stops short when the bartender helps Paisley up onto the bar with June. Guess he’s done being so nonchalant about this whole thing.

“Cole.” Jackson grits out. "It was his responsibility to monitor them closely." I keep watching. Next, Cole helps Abigail get onto the bar with them. I didn’t see that one coming, but she is June’s mother. That wild spirit has to come from somewhere.

“I have to go.” They can’t keep me out of a bar. It’s a public place. I can’t stand around while my little kitten is up there with every pair of eyes in that bar staring at her.

“I’m coming with you.” It’s about time he got as pissed off as I am.

“This is ridiculous. They have a wedding tomorrow.” I understand it's not until nighttime, but it's still a concern. I know I'm grasping for anything to get them to leave the bar. I could do what I did that first day and simply take June. She’d been more of a willing captive that day. I’m not so sure she’d be the same tonight. But I also think she’s trying to ruffle my feathers. That she likes to get a rise out of me.

When we leave the house, I motion to my driver that I'm riding with Jackson. Owen is more than just my driver; he's also my security. Not just any. He is government-contracted. I often deal with a lot of sensitive information, so it’s important that the people around me are people I trust.

It doesn’t take long for Jackson to get us into town. Oddly, that is one of the things I've enjoyed about Cottonwood. Getting around is easy. You can get to town quickly, but it also doesn’t take much time to get out in the middle of nowhere. I could appreciate the isolation.

We pull into a packed parking lot. When I get out, I toss my jacket to Owen and roll up the sleeves of my button-up shirt as I make my way inside the bar. The smell of stale beer assaults me. For a second, I tense up. All the people are mushed together, speaking loudly over the blaring music. As soon as I spot June, everything else fades from my mind. I can’t take my eyes off her. It’s as though she has me in some sort of trance.

She does a spin, her hands going to her hips as she does another little hop. Everyone follows her motions. I didn’t know what the hell Jackson meant when he said she was leading the line dance, but now I get it.

An older lady, one I’m pretty sure was with the Crafty Stitches, is holding up shots for them. June leans down to take it from her hand, staying on top of the bar. She and Paisley click the glasses together before shooting them.

With the back of her hand, June wipes her mouth. I don’t know why I find the motion adorable. She frequently makes me shift to finding her sexy and adorable. I didn’t know both could be used to describe a person, but June isn’t typical in any sense of the word.

When her eyes land on me, I expect her to be pissed that I’m barging in on her girls’ night. Instead, her whole face lights up with a giant smile. She hops off the bar, coming toward me. My heart rate picks up the closer she gets. I swear for a few moments the music is blocked out, and all I can see is her.

“Luka!” she squeals, throwing herself at me. I catch her, pulling her body against mine.

June wraps her hands around my neck, pulling me down for a kiss. My hands go to her ass, lifting her as I kiss her right back, tasting the sweetness that is not only her but whatever she’s been drinking tonight.

I deepen the kiss, not giving a shit who can see us. If anything, I want them all to see it. She’s like a drug that I can’t resist. I’ve been craving her taste. I haven't gotten another kiss from her since that one we shared on our walk. The sound of catcalls and whistles rings out throughout the bar. June pulls back, her lips swollen and red from our kisses.

“You came.” She licks her lips.

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