Page 9 of Her Protective Cowboy

As I stare at her, my mind goes completely blank.

A sliver of collarbone peeks out from the collar of the shirt, smooth and inviting. I want to put my mouth there. Trail my lips down lower to where the fabric gapes slightly between her breasts...

“Wyatt.” Brody’s amused voice snaps me out of it.

“Huh?”

“The lady asked you a question.”

Right. Blankets. I clear my throat, trying to remember how to form words.

“Uh, yeah. Hall closet, top shelf.” My voice sounds like gravel. I can’t tear my eyes away from her.

“Thanks.” Melody gives me a shy smile. Then she turns and pads out of the room, hips swaying slightly.

I watch her go, fighting the urge to follow. To back her up against the wall and let my hands explore all those lush curves...

Brody’s chuckling and shaking his head. “You are so screwed, man.”

He’s not wrong. Melody Sinclair is going to be the death of me. And the worst part? I’m pretty sure I’ll enjoy every second of it.

Chapter Four

MELODY

I wake up the next morning in Wyatt’s guest room. Sunlight streams through the lace curtains, casting patterns on the patchwork quilt. I sigh, remembering my sleepless night.

All I could think about was the look on Wyatt’s face when I walked into the living room last night wearing his flannel shirt. The way his eyes darkened, raking over my body like he wanted to consume every inch of me. And ever since, I’ve felt an ache between my legs that won’t go away.

I stare up at the white ceiling, my thoughts churning with conflict.

In spite of everything, a part of me wonders what my family would think if they could see me right now. Wyatt has to be close to forty. In other words, way too old for me. My parents would probably have an aneurysm if they knew I was lusting after a hot rancher nearly twice my age.

It would be the final nail in the coffin of my reputation as far as they’re concerned.

But another part of me can’t help but be drawn to Wyatt. The calmness and confidence he exudes. He listens when I talk, like what I have to say matters. Despite our age gap, I can tell Wyatt genuinely likes me - not the version of me I pretend to be, but thereal me underneath. And even though we just met, I like him too. More than I probably should.

I sigh and sit up as I grab my phone from the nightstand. I can't hide out in this room forever. Time to get up and face the day...and the undeniably sexy cowboy waiting for me down the hall.

I grab my phone from the nightstand. It's blowing up with a barrage of missed calls and frantic texts from everyone, including my best friend, Allie. I quickly tap out a message to her:

Me: Hey, I'm alive. Everything's fine. Staying at a ranch outside of town for a bit to clear my head.

Allie: WTF Mel? I've been worried sick! What ranch? Who's place is it?

Me: Just a friend's. I'm safe, I promise. I'll check in again soon. Love you <3

I set my phone aside, not waiting for her reply. Allie will understand. She knows me better than anyone.

Opening the guest room dresser, I opt to wear another one of Wyatt's oversized flannels and a pair of his sweatpants instead of my own clothes from my duffel. His scent envelops me as I pull them on - an intoxicating mix of pine, leather and man. Instant comfort.

Quietly, I pad barefoot down the hall toward the kitchen. And when I step inside the doorway I immediately feel my breath hitch.

Wyatt is standing at the sink with his back to me, holding a coffee mug in one hand as he gazes down at his phone.

And he isn’t wearing a shirt.

My eyes drink in the chiseled lines of his back and shoulders, the tan skin stretched taut over the muscles normally hidden beneath cotton and denim. His jeans hang low on his hips, and I can't stop myself from admiring the rock-hard curve of his ass.

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