“I used to ride in my dad’s old truck with him and he’d tell me that this song was exactly how he felt about my mother. He never could bring himself to hold anything against her. I told him he deserved better. I tried to get him to start dating. Dad would always just shake his head. Then, he’d smile, his eyes sad, and tell me that she was in his bones just like the lyrics of this song said. Dad said unless he could give all of himself to a woman, there was no point in hurting her when he was ready to walk away.”
“That’s kind of …”
“Beautifully sad?” she jokes, but I hear her pain.
“Harper …”
“It’s fucked up, but it is exactly what I’ve always wanted. It turns out, I just have bad taste,” she responds, and I feel a punch in my gut.
“Babe—”
“We’re not alike, Hunter. There’s no way you can say that. The truth is, you don’t truly know me,” she murmurs, her breathing ragged in a way that makes me ache to take her right here—regardless of where we’re at or who is around us.
“I think I know you better than you realize, but if you want to play that card, tonight’s the night we start getting to know one another.”
“It is? I don’t remember agreeing to that.”
I grin down at her. “That’s what first dates are, Harper. We get to know one another. I fucked up in our past. Now, we begin again.”
“I see you have it all figured out, Cowboy.”
“And that right there is where we will begin our get to know one another session of the date,” I decide, enjoying the way her eyebrows shoot up and her mouth thins out in annoyance.
“I don’t know what in the world you’re talking about. I also can’t figure out where you concluded that you could dictate anything about tonight,” she grumbles.
I bend down and press my lips against hers, running the tip of my tongue against the full, softness of hers, silently begging for entry. I feel like I’ve won the fucking lottery a second time when she opens her mouth, letting me inside. I explore slowly, wondering how the taste of her seems to be even sweeter than the last time we kissed. Her tongue boldly seeks mine out. I swallow her moan of hunger and I’m pretty fucking sure that I make my own. Someone bumps into Beau, and she breaks from my mouth with a startled gasp. I increase my hold on her.
“Sorry,” some guy—who has definitely had one too many—huffs.
I glare at him, trying to hold onto my temper. I’m pretty sure that Beau wouldn’t like it if I land in jail for beating a man senseless on our first date. I turn us so that I give the asshole my back, placing me between him and Beau. Then, I force myself to look back at her with a smile on my face. “Not exactly how I wanted that kiss to end,” I respond with a grin. I’m instantly rewarded with a deep blush on her cheeks. You would think after the night we shared together she wouldn’t be able to blush. For some insane reason, the fact that she does makes me fucking happy.
“That probably shouldn’t have happened,” she whispers. My fingers tighten on her hips as I hold her against me, forcing herto feel how hard I am for her. There’s no way she can’t notice. “Hunter …”
I ignore the look of fear on her face. I’m not backing down. She needs to get used to that now. “Back to getting to know one another. My question is how did the nickname cowboy come about? I don’t ride horses and never will?—”
“I don’t?—”
“Yes, I know that’s probably a sacrilege considering we live in Kentucky—the self-proclaimed horse capital of the world. Still, I’m not a horse and livestock kind of guy. Dogs are good, but that’s about it,” I explain, waiting for her answer.
“I’m more of a cat person,” she answers immediately, looking very serious.
“Dogs are man’s best friend,” I point out.
“No, men are dogs who are however always searching for pussies,” she mutters, shocking the hell out of me. “So, cats are obviously where it’s at.”
I throw my head back, unable to contain my laughter. She might blush when it comes to me touching her, but right there is complete evidence of the backbone-take-no-prisoners girl I met that night at the party, is still alive and well. Which is fucking good news for me.
“There’s the spitfire I met months ago,” I confess, enjoying the fact that I’m here with Beau.
“I’m also the woman you threw away the next morning,” she reminds me.
“And the woman I’ve spent months obsessing over,” I argue.
She lets out a sigh and I take her hand, leading her toward the pool tables. “I guess we’re playing pool now,” Beau complains, definitely sounding disgruntled.
“So, about the nickname …”
“You’re wild and untamed. That’s how I picture a cowboy. You may not ride a horse, but you ride a bike, and you live a simple life with your own set of rules. Satisfied?”
