Page 9 of The Cowboy's Friendly Wake-Up Call

The woman's voice is the kind of sultry that tells me she's not sorry at all for bumping into me from behind.

"No problem, ma'am," I lift the hat from my head momentarily and turn back toward the front of the line.

"Are you one of the members?" Her flirtatious voice is clearly addressing me, and I feel her hand against my arm to get my attention.

"Uh, yeah," I turn back, yielding to the polite conversation, but I don't like the way the woman's hand finds an excuse to touch me every time she speaks.

"I'm Ronni, with an 'i.'" Ronni-with-an-i gives me a wink, a smile that's too practiced to be pretty, and lightly touches my arm again.

It's clear she's got more on her mind than idle chit chat.

Looking up, I see Mercy glaring at me. Her pretty blue eyes narrowed at every point of contact this woman's hand finds against my arm.

I don't like the idea that Mercy might be thinking I like it at all. Or that I'm doing anything to invite the woman's attention beyond being polite.

Catching Mercy's attention, I call her over. Wrapping my arm around her shoulder casually and introducing her to our new friend.

That's enough to send the message to Ronni that I'm not interested-- and I like the way Mercy's arm wraps around my waist as we advance in the line. It almost feels possessive in the kind of way I wish she meant it to.

Chapter Five

Mercy

Something burns through me at the way the pretty young woman looks up at him. With her dark hair piled up on her head and her full lips coated in shiny red gloss, she's got a slim figure with perky boobs and it's obvious she knows men like looking at her.

Lance laughs at something she says, and her hand traces down his arm.

Does Lance like looking at her? I can't tell.

But I don't like looking at Lance looking at her, and I'm not sure what to do with the unwarranted jealousy that flares inside me, so when Lance's eyes find mine and I see they're filled with a silent plea for help-- I don't waste time rushing over to rescue him.

"Hi, I'm Mercy."

I hold out my hand to the woman and suffer her limp shake, as Lancer's arm drops over my shoulders.

"Veronica." The petite brunette puts too much sugar into the smile she gives me in response.

I bet she goes by "Ronnie." She probably spells it with an "i." She probably dots her "i's" with little hearts.

My arm snakes around Lancer's waist like I own him, but it's not the annoyed little furrow that appears between Veronica's perfectly bladed brows where I'm touching him that gives me the smug sense of satisfaction; it's the way Lance stands up a little straighter and moves a little closer to me.

Okay, it's also the way Veronica's expression goes all confused and disappointed as it sinks in that the handsome cowboy in front of her clearly isn't interested.

"It's been nice chatting with you, Ronni," Lance tips his hat at the pouting woman and doesn't let go of me as we take our place at the counter and he orders me one of the island style lagers and makes sure they drop in an extra lime wedge.

"She was cute," I work at sounding casual as I squeeze lime into my beer.

"Eh." Lance shrugs, giving me a funny look.

"What? She was into you, Lance."

Lance studies me with an expression I'm not sure how to interpret. Then he downs half his beer in one gulp.

"She's not really my type."

Something between us feels off today. Like every word spoken between us is hiding a thousand more than neither of us is saying.

"Skinny little brunettes with perky boobs aren't your type?" I tease. "Because I'm pretty sure girls like that are every man's type."

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