I yelped and fell into the sand, heart pattering inside my chest.
The cowboy in front of me had a zesty smile, a handsome jawline, and gorgeous amber eyes that reminded me of the ember glow of fire logs. Traces of straw-colored hair sticking out from underneath his cowboy hat. He grinned at me beneath the brim, his mouth splitting into a curious smile.
I gaped. It was a cowboy. An honest-to-god cowboy, with the hat and boots and the toothpick sticking out of his teeth and everything.
And unfortunately, cowboys were secretly my type.
He sauntered over to me in a pair of leather cowboy boots.
“Whoa, easy there. I’m not gonna hurt ya,” he said, his accent twisting my stomach into a knot of excitement. He took a cautious step forward and offered a hand to help me up. “Found yourself in some trouble?”
Those broad shoulders and air of swagger screamedalpha. I swallowed hard and instinctively gave him a defiant stare. But a second later, I realized I didn’t know why I was behaving like that. He was trying to help me and I seriously needed help right now.
Besides, one look in those glinting hazel eyes and I struggled not to melt into a puddle right in front of him.
I took his hand, shocked by its large size and warmth, and allowed the cowboy to haul me to my feet.
He smelled good. His scent, like a blend of sunshine, sand, and soap all mixed in this magnificent aroma that turned my muscles to jelly.
Why am I noticing how a stranger smells?I chided myself.
“I’m... having some car trouble,” I admitted. To add to the miserable tableaux, the car wheezed behind me.
The cowboy's eyes gleamed. His lips did a frisky twitch. “I can see that. Your engine's smokier than a barbecue."
The hitch in my shoulders wilted a notch. This was so embarrassing. The cowboy was probably mentally laughing at me, thinking I was some dumb city omega who didn't know how to fix his own car. I mean, Ididn't, but I hated being a stereotype.
Speaking of stereotypes, the cowboy looked like he'd been plucked directly out of a Western movie. His eyes scanned the perimeter of the car, his thumbs hooked into the front pockets of his jeans. Despite my despair, I had to stifle a grin. He was, admittedly, very cute.
"Mind if I take a look?" he asked.
"Please go ahead," I sputtered, beyond relieved he'd offered. In an attempt to at least look like I knew what I was doing, I stood beside him as he propped up the hood.
As he examined underneath it, he asked, "You alone?"
There was no point in lying. Clearly nobody else was around and there were no nearby tire tracks to indicate someone had gone to get help.
"Er, yes."
“Hmm."
Both leaning under the shade of the hood, my stomach did a flip as his eyes searched mine.
“No problem. We'll have 'er fixed up in a jiffy, and if not, I can tow ya."
His way of speaking was so endearing, I couldn't help but smile.
"So, city boy. How’d you get yourself into this mess?” He gave me a casual glance, his eyes trailing my face and stopping at my torso.
The heat of his gaze roaming across my body incinerated me. I didn't even care that he called mecity boy. Stupid cowboy fetish. All it was going to take was one more of his curiously patrolling smiles to do me in.
“Well, I was driving out here, and my car started smoking and, uh... broke down,” I stammered, stating the obvious. I couldn't tell him exactly what happened because I didn't have a clue. If I did, I wouldn't be in this situation. Though considering how much I liked the cowboy's company, maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.
He chuckled softly, his smooth yet gravelly voice like a breeze across the sand.
“I can see that." His hands roamed over the car parts. "If you don't mind my askin', why are you all alone down this dirt road, city boy?”
My cheeks became as scorched as a furnace at the nickname. Or maybe it was heatstroke.
