Page 5 of Embracing Hope

Lifting her spine and angling her chin, she didn’t remove her gaze from his. “I’ve been told that a time or two.” She crossed her legs. She was curious about what business he referred to. “Are you in the oil or cattle business?”

“Yes.”

“Are you always this vague?”

“Yes,” he said.

“Touché.”

“You looked pretty comfortable on that mechanical bull. You’ve been in the saddle a time or two.” He braced his elbows on the edge of the polished bar top. His rolled-up sleeves climbed his biceps, revealing defined muscles and tattoos. She recognized the fighting knife, symbolizing special forces operatives.

“A time or two.” She shifted, and her knee brushed his thigh. Warmth spread through her like a branding iron.

“Thanks for the beer.” He wrapped his hand around the stein. His fingers were so long that his fingertips touched the other side of the large, frosted glass. A fuzzy sensation scooted through her inner thighs.

“No problem.” All the warning bells went off in her mind. She should have taken her drink and found a safer cowboy to talk to, but her bottom was glued to the stool. Something about the handsome stranger wrangled her curiosity. Not only was he attractive, but he also seemed to have a barely contained storm raging behind his eyes. She found many of the men in town to be…boring. They lacked the zest for life that she wanted in a man. “Where are you staying?” Accommodations were limited in Sagebrush Pine. The two-star motel was across the road, or maybe he was staying with a friend.

“I have a room across the parking lot, which reminds me that I should get checked in. It’s been a long day.” He slid off the stool. The man was nearly a giant. He pulled out his wallet and dropped a few bills with a hefty tip.

Her daddy always said, “A person can tell a lot about a man by the tip he leaves.”

“Nice meeting you, Isaac.” She saluted him with her glass, feeling slightly disappointed that they were parting ways so soon.

“My pleasure, Hannah,” he said her “fake” name in a way that drizzled warm honey through her body.

It was probably best she found her way home before she did something stupid. “Goodnight, and I hope you enjoy your stay.” She gave him a lingering look.

Chapter One

She fell in and out of sleep, barely registering the muffled sound of Jerry Springer on TV and thebeepingof her phone from the nightstand. It was a struggle to force her eyes open, and when she finally managed, she blinked against the sunlight streaming in through the broken slats of the blind.

Lifting herself to her elbow, a sharp pain sliced through her forehead and settled into her temples. The battery acid taste in her mouth made her so thirsty she could drink pond water, and the half-empty whiskey bottle sitting on the nightstand was a reminder of why she felt like a horse had trampled on her.

Last night came back in a blur.

The cowboy had either intentionally or accidentally left his keys on the bar, and when she caught up to him in the parking lot, he invited her back to his room for a drink. After a classy amount of time to make him believe she debated the offer, she finally agreed. He bought a bottle of whiskey at Mav’s, and together, they strolled over to Sagebrush Pine Motel.

Now, here she was. She had a more significant issue than a hangover.

She was in Isaac’s room and not alone.

A large, callused hand had a possessive grip on her sore, bare bottom where she guessed he’d left his handprint. They found they liked things a little rough. She had her boundaries, but a little spanking never hurt anyone.

He inhaled deeply and she stilled, every muscle in her body locking tight as she waited for any sign that he was awake.

In the reflection of the wall mirror hanging above the TV, she saw the man stretched out beside her, the sheet barely covering his waist. He was ungodly tall with broad, linebacker shoulders and eyes that changed colors with his mood. His smile could whip a bull into behaving or convince a cowgirl to return to his room and spend the night.

Isaac. Was that even his real name?

And did it matter in the grand scheme of things?

No, not really.

They probably wouldn't see each other again unless she woke him while making her escape.

She slowly and carefully shifted just enough to get a good look at the hand. His rancher hands were callused and unbelievably large. Across his chest lay an array of scars of various sizes. Some were deep and jagged, while others were superficial, but all stood out starkly against his tanned skin. The ink from the fighter's swords stained one shoulder.

A dryer looked like it had exploded in the small room. There was a trail of clothing and open condom wrappers littering the floor. At least they’d been responsible.

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