Page 32 of Cowboy Bull's Promise

“FUCK! Shit! Arliss—easy! It’s me! I’m not attacking you!”

I stagger back, eyes streaming, hands flying to my face as I groan like a beast fresh out of hell.

“Oh my God! Romeo? I mean, Kian!” she gasps, already rushing toward me. “Shit, shit, shit! I’m so sorry!”

I feel cool water hit my face, her hands trembling as she tips a bottle over me, rinsing the worst of it off.

Her touch is soft.

Her scent is stronger than ever.

And I’m blind as hell, but gods help me—I’m still aroused.

“Does that help?” she asks, voice worried.

I grunt, blinking rapidly. “Yeah, yeah. Just give me a second.”

I drag the hem of my shirt up, dabbing at the mess, still stinging, still on fire, but I’d take this over a night without her voice any day.

Because pain fades.

But Arliss? She’s the kind of ache I never want to lose.

When I can finally see again, through the red haze of pain and the sting of pepper spray vengeance burning my damn eyeballs, it’s so worth it.

* * *

Because she’s close now.

Real close.

I can smell the sweet cinnamon gum she’s chewing and the faint trace of lemon cleaner lingering on her skin from wiping down the bar top. Beneath that is the distinct flavor of wildflowers and sugary sweetness.

It’s not perfume.

It’s her.

Warm.

Sharp.

Clean.

Delicious.

Perfect.

My Bull practically purrs inside me, greedy for more.

Then she crosses her arms and pins me with that look.

“What were you doing? Following me or something?”

Instead of answering, and admitting to my low-key, high-key stalker behavior, I clear my throat and crouch down beside her car, pretending I’m just a nice guy who just happened to be here.

Lying by omission. Classic move.

My gaze scans the tire. I spot it immediately.

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