Chapter Four
Logan
Macey Henwood has a tell. Actually, she has two. She doesn’t know it, and I’ll never let her in on my secret.
But as soon as I get close enough to touch her, I immediately know what’s on her mind.
“Hey, cowboy.” She pulls her lower lip between her teeth.
That’s tell number one.
Whenever Macey wants to hook up, she tugs at her lip in a flirty, sexy way that drives me wild and makes me want to take her right away, no matter where we are. Inside her family bar? Fine. Out by my family ranch? Great. I don’t care as long as I have her.
A strand of her gorgeous dark hair has come loose from her bun. She bats at it impatiently, so I reach up and tuck the strand back behind her ear.
She sends me a grateful look, but I don’t miss the flash of heat in her gaze. She squeezes her thighs just slightly, keeping me standing between her legs.
I glance down. Her jeans hug her curves to perfection. I drag my gaze up her body, and that’s when I notice tell number two.
For the last couple of years, whenever Macey decides our once-a-year “thing” is on, she wears a hot little pink top withTexas Y’allwritten across the chest. Her breasts pop out the T and the Y in a way that makes my jeans uncomfortable, and the way the thin fabric clings to the soft skin I know is underneath—double turn-on.
“Texas Y’all,” I say with a grin. “Good way to advertise our home state to any tourists.”
I slide out from between her legs, already missing her heat. As I hop up onto the fence beside her, I tip my head toward The Cowherd. “I need a cold beer and some A/C. Can you help a cowboy out?”
She jumps off the fence first. “Right this way, sir.”
Leaving my brothers and cousins behind, I walk side by side with Macey to her family’s bar. I hold the door open for her as we step inside.
“So.” I slide onto a stool, lay my cowboy hat on the empty stool next to me, and reach over the bar for an empty beer mug. “What’s shaking?”
Macey hurries behind the bar to grab the mug out of my hand. She brings the mug underneath the tap and fills it up. When she slides the full mug of beer toward me, I nod my thanks and bring the frosted glass to my lips.
Macey’s whiskey eyes turn liquid with heat as we lock gazes. Her lips part, and she inhales sharply.
I lower my beer mug to the counter.
And then, I lean in slowly, making sure I can read her signals.
She takes the tiniest step back. So tiny almost anyone else would’ve missed it.
But not me.
I’ve spent my life memorizing everything about this woman. And today, she’s hesitant. She wants the same thing I do, but something’s got her pulling back.
“Everything all right?” I ask her.
“Sure.” She averts her gaze and goes to wipe down the bartop.
I catch her wrist so she stops her movement. She raises her eyes, those thick dark lashes half-hiding the tormented look in her gaze.
“Hey.” I run my thumb along the inside of her wrist, the one with the scar, and she shivers. “Don’t hide from me, Mace. What’s up? Maybe I misread your signals, but you looked like you wanted to…”
She bites her lip hard and then releases it. “I did. I do.”
“Well…” I let go of her wrist and hold out both of my arms. “I’m here. Ready and willing.”
“Logan.” She lowers her voice to a whisper even though there’s nobody around.
