Page 6 of Thirst Trap
Then there are the things I didn’t imagine about him, but I don’t even know if I could have if I tried.
The skin I can see is bronzed only the way it can be from working outside in the southern sun. His muscles fill out his shirt just right to pull at the fabric, but not too much where it might rip. His smile is that fine line between cocky and confident and shows off a dimple in his left cheek.
Then there are his eyes. They are the color of my favorite milk chocolate.
And they are currently burning into me right now.
“And what about you, sweetness?” he asks, his voice softening a bit, though the look in his eyes is more intense. “What can I get you? You look a little thirsty.”
You.
I almost said it. It was on the tip of my tongue because that’s literally the only word I can think of.
But I don’t have a chance to answer. Just as who knows what word is about to come out of my mouth, the unmistakable first beat of the song “Pony” comes blaring through the jukebox. The song might be as old as I am, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know it.
And apparently, so does Sexy Plaid Cowboy Man.
He reaches for Ella Mae’s hand, his hips slowly starting to move in beat with the music, and when I turn to look at my best friend, her face is twenty different shades of red. I don’t know if this man realizes that he just picked the shyest bachelorette in the history of bachelorettes to try and give an impromptu lap dance.
“What’s a bachelorette party without a dance?” he asks, bringing her out of her chair. “Don’t worry, I don’t bite.”
“I… no… I can’t!” she squeals, immediately turning toward me. “Here! Dance with Whitley!”
“What?” I let out, not having a second to take in what’s happening before Ella Mae grabs my hand, yanks me off my stool, and slingshots me into the hardest chest I’ve ever felt.
I look up to see his brown eyes taking me in, and that cocky smile is back with full force.
“Your friend doesn’t want a dance?” he says, his voice hitting me even harder this close to him.
“She’s shy,” I say, trying not to melt from the sound of his deep timbre.
“Are you?” he asks, a hint of mischief playing on his face.
I don’t break eye contact, though I can see Emmilene out of the corner of my eye, her mouth wide open as she can’t believe what is happening.
Oh, this just got so much better.
“Absolutely not. What do you got, cowboy?”
