“I am not,” I say quickly, though my cheeks heat up.
“You so are,” Kelsey chimes in, grinning. “You should go talk to him.”
“Absolutely not. Wade is…”
Out of my league.
My family’s rival. We’re expected to hate each other. We’re like the American version of the Montagues and the Capulets. He would never give me a second look.
Well, the Sutton Bishop he knew he would never give a second look, that is. He knew me as a tomboy who was awkward and shy. He’s never met me as the confident woman I am today.
Except that it’s not Wade—it’s not possible. But it’s funny how comparing him to Wade has me reverting back to that insecure teenage girl I used to be.
“Oh, come on,” Avery says, nudging me with her elbow. “It’s a celebration. Live a little. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“He could laugh in my face,” I say, taking another sip of my drink.
“He won’t,” Jess says confidently. “Look at him. He’s alone, he’s gorgeous, and he’s obviously not in a hurry to leave. You’re freaking hot, Sutty, and he will be tripping over his words for you. Go say hi.”
“No way,” I say, shaking my head.
“Okay, fine,” Jess says, smirking. “I dare you, and if that doesn’t work, I’ll go talk to him. I’d like to ride him for way longer than eight seconds.”
I groan. “Seriously?”
“Seriously,” Kelsey laughs. “We dare you to go talk to him. Five minutes. That’s all you have to do.”
I glance back at the cowboy by the jukebox. He’s picked a song now, something with a steady, twangy beat that’s just loud enough to carry over the chatter of the bar. He turns slightly, and our eyes meet. My heart skips a beat.
It’s like I’m in a trance as I set my drink down on the bar and saunter toward this sexy man.
He looks up as I approach, and my breath catches again. Up close, he’s even more devastatingly handsome. Dark stubble shadows his jaw, and his eyes—a piercing blue that reminds me of a clear Texas sky—crinkle slightly at the corners as he gives me a slow, easy smile.
“You lost, darlin’?” he asks in a low, deep baritone drawl.
Definitely not Wade with that thick Texas accent.
“Not yet,” I say, surprising myself with the flirtatious edge in my tone. “But I might be if you don’t tell me what song you just picked.”
He chuckles. “‘Amarillo by Morning.’ Seemed fitting.”
“You’ve got good taste.”
“So do you,” he says, his gaze flicking over me in a way that makes my skin tingle. “What’s your name, darlin’?”
“Su…Samantha,” I say. “And you?”
He hesitates for just a fraction of a second before answering. “Collin.”
“What brings you here tonight?”
Really Sutton? You’re supposed to be channeling your inner Samantha, and you pick the lamest pickup line on the planet?
“Even cowboys need a break every now and then. Came for work. Guess I got lucky running into you.”
“Lucky, huh?” I arch an eyebrow. “And what exactly makes you so sure I’m not the lucky one?”
His grin turns wicked. “Oh, I’ve got a few ideas, but I’m not sure they’re fit for polite company.”
