Page 43 of Cowboy Devil's Embrace

Emmet’s wicked grin split his face wide, and it was all I could do not to deck the fucker.

Fuck my life.

I walked away, leaving him to his snorting laughter. I had just enough time for a shower, and I wasn’t about to waste any of those precious minutes needed to get ready for my mate horsing around with this jackoff.

I had a date to get to. And a mate to mark.

Mine.

CHAPTER ELEVEN-PENELOPE

The rumble of a truck idling just outside my front door had me peeking through the glass.

I was currently pacing back and forth, trying to decide whether I should wait on the porch or go hide under my covers.

Avery, why did you do this to me?

I didn’t go on dates. Well, not since before I was married. And even then, I was bad at them.

I’d googled Max, and the man came from old money. He was ivy league educated, born rich, hella good-looking, and of course, the man was a dog.

A real playboy, dating supermodels and top actresses, and who knew who else.

Sadly, I was disappointed my first assumption was right. The city boy was just wasting time here, playing at being a cowboy.

He’d be gone soon. I was sure of it.

Do not get attached, Penelope.

That’s the mantra I’d been repeating all damn day. I had a nasty habit of making mountains of molehills, and ever since I discovered what a lying piece of crap my ex was, it had only gotten worse.

I was having a few problems with this whole date, though.

First, Max had never really asked me out. If anything, Avery kind of bullied him into it.

Second, well, he didn’t call or come by the bakery again to confirm.

What if it was all just a joke?

How stupid would I feel if I’d left work early for a mani-pedi and a wax appointment just to stay home alone?

Then again, the sound of the engine outside kinda made me feel better. I didn’t get a look at his car the other day, but that was a really nice truck. And it was new. Like the kind someone who just moved out here might buy.

I bit my lip.

Why are you being a chicken? Open the damn door.

My inner voice was a bossy beyotch sometimes. But I needed a moment, so I paused and pressed my forehead against the cool wood of my newly painted red door.

I’d always wanted a red door,I thought inanely.

Thank God for Avery.

Without my nosy best friend, I’d have had to live in a cheap motel after the divorce. But Avery had inherited her grandmother’s place when she’d been a freshman in college.

Figuring it could be a steady source of passive income, she had it separated into two units and rented one out almost immediately.

The older couple who’d lived here before me recently moved to Georgia to get away from the rough winters, and it was like kismet.

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