“You’re playing by my rules,” I say, sitting back and lacing my hands behind my head. “I reserve the right to do whatever I want in my game.”
“Ooh, cowboy law,” she jokes. “Alright. Never have I ever saved a cat from a pack of coyotes.”
I gesture for her to drink and raise my glass. “You gotta drink too. I don’t think they would have backed off without your air horn. It was a team effort.”
“Fine,” she says, throwing back a generous gulp. “Your turn.”
My tongue coasts along my upper lip. “Never have I ever gone skinny-dipping.”
Darcy freezes and looks at me weird, then lifts her glass. “Why do you think I’ve been skinny-dipping?”
I wink at her. “You seem the type.”
She points at me. “You with that damn wink again. You winked at me at the bar! What was your plan with all that flirting?” Her accent’s getting thicker the more she drinks. “Were you going to show up at the bar every night until you saw me again?”
I smirk and scan her features: bright, curious eyes, all those curls, teeth combing over a full bottom lip. “I figured if we were meant to see each other again, we would.”
“And here we are,” she says.
“Here we are,” I agree.
Darcy traces her fingertip around the top of her whiskey glass and it does something dirty to me. It’s not like she has some sexy manicure. In fact, her nails are cut short and not painted, probably ready for farm work. But her hands are delicate, feminine, and the filthiest part of my brain sends a signal that I’m tired of my own hand on my cock.
It does not help one bit that I know how hot her curves are without a stitch of clothes on them. I clench my jaw and remind myself that she’s my boss. We officially met today. I should probably cool it.
But there’s something here between us, and all that rage earlier might have been her twisted version of foreplay. Our gazes flit over each other, but keep meeting in eye contact. It’s humid in the house, and the dense air pulses between us.
“Never have I ever flirted with my boss,” Darcy says, her voice smooth and low.
I don’t let my eyes drop from hers as I take a sip of my whiskey, letting it roll across my tongue before sending it down my throat. The burn as it hits my stomach meets the flutter from this strange dance we’re doing. I’m flirting, but so is she.
I twist my lips, thinking. “Never have I ever danced with my boss in the kitchen.”
Darcy’s holding back a huge grin, pinching her lips together to suppress it. “You lookin’ to change that, cowboy?”
“Reckon I am,” I say, rising from the table and coming around to her side. “It’s ‘Neon Moon’ after all. The opportunity won’t get better than this.”
With bright eyes, Darcy puts her hand into my outstretched one and I square us up to dance. A jolt of hormones surges through me. How long has it been since I really touched a woman? Surprise crosses Darcy’s face as we start to move together.
“Must have romanced a lot of cowgirls in your day with this two-step,” she teases, and I’m all stirred up with the look on her face: playful, smug, fucking with me.
“If I tell you the reason I learned, you won’t believe me.”
“Try me,” she purrs.
“My sister wanted to learn how and didn’t have a partner to take lessons with her. Some boy at school turned her down so I just said I’d go with her.”
Darcy’s eyes round and her lips puff out. “No way. That’s too sweet.”
I laugh. “I said you wouldn’t believe me.”
“I just can’t figure you out. I can’t figure out if you’re trouble or if you’re secretly a really nice guy.”
“Guess you’ll just have to wait and see.” I spin her, finishing with a dip that lands my face between her tits. I pull her up to stand again slowly, unable to resist the urge to trail my nose along her skin. This must be what angels smell like. She stumbles as I bring her back to standing.
“Careful, now,” I say, huskier than I mean to. “I get you flustered?”
Darcy presses her chest forward so we’re touching, her brown eyes glowing up at me. “What should I be careful of?” she hums. “You?”
