Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114263 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 571(@200wpm)___ 457(@250wpm)___ 381(@300wpm)
I can’t stop smiling.
Just like I can’t stop dancing. I have no idea how much time has passed, only that I’m covered in sweat and my feet hurt.
“This one isn’t a country song,” Sally says into the mic, “but you can’t not dance to it, so we figured we’d play it for y’all.”
Patsy counts out the beat with her drumsticks, and then Frisky Whiskey bursts into a twangy version of “Wobble.”
People go nuts. I shout. Cash puts his fingers into his mouth and lets out an ear-splitting whistle.
The dance floor is packed now. Who knew so many people lived in such a tiny town?
Who knew they could all wobble like a boss?
I’m downright giddy as I join the front line of dancers beside Cash. His face shines with sweat, his cheeks pink, shirt sticking to his chest and stomach.
When he shakes his ass, bending his legs in time to the beat, I can only stare. Laughter bubbles up inside my chest.
“You laughin’ at my wobble?” he shouts over the music.
Nope, I’m checking out your delicious Wrangler butt like every other person in this bar. “I would never!”
“Good luck keepin’ up.”
“Watch me.”
I let go and let God. I dance my heart out, smiling like an idiot while sneaking glances in Cash’s direction.
He looks so damn hot in his jeans and backward hat. I should’ve known he was a good dancer by the easy rhythm he finds whenever he’s on horseback. But to see those long legs and that perfect butt in action like this—witnessing him letting loose in a way I never imagined he was capable of?
I’m so turned on I could scream.
My body pulses at the memory of how Cash manhandled me the other day. At the time, I found it offensive. Now I’m wondering if he’d manhandle me that way in bed. He’s got the muscle to toss someone around—that’s for damn sure. But would he have the balls?
I close my eyes and will the thought to evaporate. Sure, I’m having the time of my life dancing with Cash. And the way he told that guy who asked me to dance to fuck off?
Not gonna lie, being spoken for like that—protected—was hot as hell. Guys back in Dallas are sexy in their own way, but they’re never territorial.
They never speak so plainly or act so quickly.
They also don’t dance the way Cash is dancing.
Despite all that, I can’t touch this cowboy with a ten-foot pole. I’m realizing just how important it is to establish a solid working relationship with him and his brothers. I feel like Dad and I let each other down on so many things.
I’m not going to let him down again by doing something stupid with the guy who runs our family’s ranch.
Even if that guy is turning out to be a decent human being.
A decent, thoughtful, incredibly sexy human being who can wobble with the best of them.
On any other night at any other bar, I’d be taking him home.
Tonight, the only thing I can do is take him to task on the dance floor.
We dance, and we laugh, the bar a blur as we move. Cash keeps tabs on me during every song, not so much as glancing at other people.
I never ever want to stop.
But I finally hit a wall when Frisky Whiskey moves into another slow song. My feet throb. My eyes burn, knees and back on fire.
I’m suddenly so tired, I could fall asleep standing up.
Cash must notice, because he puts a hand on my back. “Ready to get outta here?”
“I’m beat.” I glance around the bar. “Shoot, where did Wyatt go? He’s my ride home.”
“I’ll give you a ride.”
I arch a brow at Cash. We’ve been too busy dancing to drink much—two beers each, the last one finished several songs ago—so I know he’s okay to drive.
I just don’t know if I’m okay to drive with him. Just the thought of riding shotgun beside Cash already has me thinking about a different kind of riding.
The naked kind.
I’ve enjoyed more than a few back-seat make-out sessions in my day. But making out with a cowboy like Cash in the back of his pickup? Those big hands roving slowly over every inch of my body?
That’d take the experience to a whole new level.
I wish I could ignore the tight, buzzy energy between us. I wish I could stop leaning into it. But it just feels too damn good to be touched this way.
I’m just having too much fun.
Even now, sparks erupt inside my skin from the place where his fingers find the gap between my top and skirt on my back. There’s no chance we’ll actually get naked together. But the idea of it—the tease—there’s something to be said for that kind of anticipation.
Hooking up with Palmer is very straightforward. There’s no buildup. No flirtation. Just a knock on the door and then, well, we get to it. Sometimes, we’ll have a glass of wine beforehand, but I always, always know how it’s going to end.