Page 38 of Breaking the Cowboy's Rules

“Anything I can manage.”

“You look like man with a lot of skills in managing.” She eyed him playfully.

“That I do.”

“Then you’d better eat to keep your skills up. I’ve never been to a rodeo, and I want to be standing up cheering you on in the winner’s circle. I believe shiny buckles, maybe even with some bling, are involved, which gives me ideas.”

He nearly choked on his coffee.

She smiled, picked up half of the ham, egg and cheese croissant sandwich and held it out for him to take a bite.

“I’ve been told I make a lot of demands.”

“That sounds more appealing than it should,” he teased. “Maybe I have a bit of a masochist streak.”

“I doubt it.”

“What kind of demands?” His mind shot to places and situations where he hoped Nico would be very demanding.

“You promised me fun and to live in the moment,” she reminded him, one finger idly tracing the rim of her coffee cup where she’d yet to take a drink. “I intend to collect, so—” she cocked her gleaming head toward the plate of food and flicked a silky, fiery lock of hair expertly over her shoulder “—you’re going to need to keep up your strength this week.”

*

What was shedoing?

Nico stared at the display of chocolates at the Copper Mountain Chocolate shop, overwhelmed. More overwhelming was the full-on flirt suit she’d buttoned up this morning at the Java Café with Bodhi. She’d all but implied that she wanted to get horizontal for the week.

Completely unlike her.

“Probably why I did it,” she murmured staring blankly at the chocolate.

But why limit myself to horizontal poses?

Her stomach swooped and the pulsing warmth that had settled low in her body between her thighs since Bodhi had danced with her last night kicked up a beat. Weren’t cowboys super sexed up risk-takers? Sex against a wall, in a barn, in a truck? And was she really brave enough to find out?

That was what she’d been asking herself since Bodhi had walked her back to the hotel. He was heading back to the ranch to work, and she was going to meet him later to go riding—horses, she tried to quell her suddenly active imagination. Not cowboys. But the promise dangled out there, sweet and sexy if she had the courage.

This afternoon was going to be something. Bodhi had asked if she knew how to ride. Dressage and jumping were certainly not what he’d meant so she’d kept her mouth shut. Still, she was all in on the game. She’d even met his older cousin, Bowen—those men all hit the genetic lottery in looks—and his co-competitor, Langston, who worked at the hotel.

Anticipation hummed pleasantly. She liked Bodhi. Liked him a lot. And the week scrolled before her rich with possibilities. When was the last time she’d looked forward to something?

A woman with copper-colored hair and a matching apron who’d been stirring a copper pot of fragrant hot chocolate looked up from her task and smiled as she asked, “Have you made any decisions?”

“No, everything looks delicious,” Nico said. “But I don’t eat a lot of chocolate.”

“Shshshsh, you can’t say that in here.” The woman laughed. “I am compelled to change your mind. Are you visiting for the rodeo?”

“Yes,” Nico said.

Her normal reaction would be to keep her business to herself, but she was playing a part this week. Bodhi Ballantyne’s girlfriend, soon to be fiancée.

Fake fiancée.

Shouldn’t she show off a bit? She imagined small towns were hotbeds of gossip—not that Manhattan and the uber-rich Hamptons’ set had kept any juicy tidbits to themselves ever.

“The chocolates are a gift, for my…my boyfriend’s grandfather, Ben Ballantyne. I’m meeting him today.”

She waited for the lightning strike.

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