“Guess you’ll have to show up to find out.”
With that, he saunters off toward the pool table like he didn’t just set my ovaries on fire with his proximity.
“Seems your drinks are covered tonight,” the bartender says sweetly, pulling me from my perusal of the cowboy’s denim-clad ass. “What can I get you?”
I turn toward her, trying to remember my order. My name. Anything.
She studies my face. “Looks like cowboy tears. Coming right up.”
She puts ice in a glass, and I glance over my shoulder. “Tell me the truth. Woman to woman. Is he a decent guy or a walking red flag?”
She pauses her preparation of my drink. “He’s. . . from a good family. A little wild and probably not going to settle down anytime soon. So if you’re looking for a husband?—”
“I’m not. Definitely not.” My career is just now taking off. Much to my family’s dismay, a husband is the last damn thing I need.
“I hear he’s a real good time. But he wasn’t kidding about the one-night only ride. I’ve never seen him with the same woman twice.”
I watch as he lines up a shot, winks at me, then sinks the eight ball in the corner pocket.
“Sounds perfect.”
CHAPTER THREE
isaac
By eleven, I’ve convinced myself that the captivating woman with the whiskey eyes and long legs isn’t going to show.
The Wild Coyote is busy tonight. Carly Rae Brannigan is here, in her typical form, half-drunk and looking to fight or fuck. She’s eye-banging me to death from the mechanical bull, but I shake my head and nod toward Beau Mitchell, who’s operating the bull tonight. She wrinkles her nose and turns her attention to an older guy who’s been buying her drinks for the past hour.
After finding out Beau has had a thing for her since high school, I felt awful about hooking up with her. It was only once—and it was a threesome, so not super intimate—but I think it broke Beau’s heart all the same. She’s pretty much the female version of, well, me. Hell of a lot of fun but far too wild to tame. Beau looks at her like a lovesick puppy anyway.
Poor guy. Reminds me of my lovesick newlywed brother.
Unlike Ivy, Carly Rae is a long way from settling down.She’s aware of Beau’s feelings and she avoids him on purpose. It’s sad as shit to watch.
It’s already been a long ass day, and I still have a contract to read and sign.
I take a drink from what I’ve decided is my last beer for the night. I’m about to tell Brett and Beau I’m calling it and heading home, when I see her.
And I’m not the only one.
Both male and female heads turn as she enters.
There’s something about this woman I can’t quite name because I’ve never experienced it before. But her presence brightens everything—even the air around her shimmers somehow.
If anyone else said something like that, I’d give them so much hell. But she’s fucking radiant, from the gleam in her dark eyes to the shine of her silky black hair.
My mystery woman steps through the door of the bar and eyes the rowdy crowd. When her gaze meets mine, she only lifts an eyebrow as if to say your move, cowboy.
My cock jerks hard in awareness, angry at the restrictive denim holding it captive behind my zipper.
The exhaustion that had been weighing on me, and the worries about Ivy’s show and if I can uphold this bullshit contract and not screw it up for the ranch, lift instantly. With renewed energy, I stride toward her before I can think twice about making her come to me like I typically would.
“Well, look who made it.” I place my free hand on the small of her back and guide her toward the mechanical bull.
“Let’s hear about this deal,” is all she says.
I turn her toward the metal animal surrounded by blue padding.