Page 9 of Hooking Up

She couldn’t stop her grin from taking over her features. She’d walk out of here with a buckle that Frazer hadn’t gotten.

Without realizing what she was about to do, she hurled herself at Carter. He caught her against his broad chest. He braced himself and wrapped his arms around her.

“I beat him,” she said.

“You beat ’em all, gorgeous.” The rumble of his words stole her mind, and she made the mistake of looking into his eyes.

“Fuck, you’re more beautiful when you’re happy.” He palmed her cheek, and she resisted turning into his touch like a cat starved for affection.

Slowly, she pulled free of his hold and backed away two steps. She fought to control her breathing so he didn’t think she was struggling with total arousal. But she was. Carter was the stuff of fantasies, a calendar centerfold with a cocky grin. Cowboy crack.

She tucked a strand of hair under her hat and gave him a nod. “Thank you for delivering the news to me. I’d like to be alone for a bit if you don’t mind.”

He stood rooted in place, eyes darkening as he swept his gaze from the top of her hat to the tips of her boots. All the places in between tingled.

“I understand. This is your image—playing hard to get.”

She blinked. “I’m not playing hard to get. Iamhard to get. Thanks again for delivering the news, Carter.”

“Does this mean the steak dinner’s on hold?”

If she found herself within ten feet of this mananda prime cut of beef, she was a goner. And she’d worked too hard not to distance her heart from the bullshit men dished up.

“That’s right. Indefinitely on hold. Good luck with your ride, Cowboy.”

* * * * *

“What the fuck’s your problem, Fallon?” Quint jabbed a finger into his chest. “Are you in this competition with me or not?”

“I’m in.” He just couldn’t concentrate very well after Bella’s rejection. He focused hard on the rope in his hands and evading all questioning from his partner. His very angry partner.

He hadn’t seen Quint with his chaps this bunched since the Calhouns bumped them from ranks and booted them from the national finals last fall.

“If you think you’re fooling anybody, you’re wrong.” Quint jerked his gloves down harder over his fingers, a sure sign he was about to curl his fists and punch something.

Carter met his gaze. “Fooling about what? I’m getting ready to compete, Quint. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You keep disappearing. I know you’re prowling after a woman.” Quint didn’t look remotely happy about the thought, and it didn’t have anything to do with them being thrown off their game.

“Since we’re discussing distractions, why don’t we talk about yours?”

Quint narrowed his eyes. “I’m dead focused on this win, Carter.”

“Until Bella Roberts walks by.”

His partner’s glare would have felled a weaker man. Besides, he could take Quint. They’d never gotten into a full-on brawl, but they’d thrown a punch or two in the heat of the moment. Carter squared his shoulders.

Quint took a big step toward him, bringing them nose-to-nose. Carter worked his jaw. “Dammit, I don’t wanna fuck up your pretty face, Lopez. Get out of my space.”

“Admit that you’ve been sniffing around Bella and I’ll back off.”

“Why’s it so important to you?”

“You know damn well that our rhythm is off if there’s shit between us. Spill it so we can go out and do the best damn run of our lives. I’m taking home a cash prize from Henderson.”

“Fine. I went and found her and congratulated her. Happy?”

The feverish light in Quint’s eyes deadened, and he sniffed. “Yeah. Now they’re about to call our names.”

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