Page 71 of Fix Me Up, Cowboy
I hook my thumbs under the lace waistband of my panties and slide the fabric down my legs. I barely have enough time to toss them to the grass before Noah’s warm arms wrap around my waist from behind.
I shriek and giggle at the same time.
“How are you with cold water?” he asks, advancing into the river.
“How cold are we talking about?”
“Cold enough that you’re going to want me to warm you up afterward.” His hand shifts up to cover one breast, clarifying exactly what he means by warming me up.
“I’ll hold you to that,” I say at the same time he pinches my nipple, and it comes out as a moan.
He shifts his hold on me, so that he’s carrying me in both arms, and keeps striding deeper and deeper and deeper into the river. My feet disappear into the water and I gasp.
Damn, that’s cold.
He keeps going.
And then the moment I was bracing for, the moment I was partly hoping wouldn’t happen does: Noah drops me into the water.
Double damn, that’s cold.
By the time I find my footing, I’m already fully submerged.
I push myself up to the surface to find one wet and grinning Noah. Water runs down the sides of his face.
I shove wet strands of hair out of my eyes. “Oh God, you jerk,” I say, only half meaning it.
I lunge at him. He catches me and lifts me up. My legs automatically wrap around his waist. His arms tighten around me.
The water might be cold but I’m suddenly not.
And neither is he, if his heated gaze is any indication.
I lower my head to his, and our mouths meet.
If I had been sitting on the fence as to whether I should say yes to Troy’s plan and be stuck in Copper Creek for the next three months, this kiss would have sealed the deal.
Our tongues dance and glide and make promises we have every intention of keeping. I’m so focused on that and the man holding me—my bare breasts pressed against his chest—that at first, I don’t register the polite coughing from somewhere near us on the water.
It’s only when the cough becomes a little louder and more insistent that I’m jerked back to the here and now, and I notice the not-so-distant laughter of kids downstream.
Both Noah and I turn our heads to discover two older men in a canoe. Both are wearing matching dark-green baseball caps, tan short-sleeved shirts, royal-blue neckties, and badges on their sleeves.
Holy fruitcake.
“We’re…um…sorry to interrupt,” one of them says. “But in a few minutes, a troop of boy scouts is going to come paddling this way. And well…”
“Oh, shit,” Noah mutters. I drop my head to his shoulder, doing my best to hide my heated face.
“So if you don’t mind,” the other man says.
“If you can give us some privacy,” Noah says, “we’ll be out of here before they get here.”
“Thanks for being understanding.”
“Not a problem.” Noah lowers me to my feet.
I don’t even check if both men are looking the other way. I hightail it back to shore with Noah right behind me.
