It’s his turn to quirk an eyebrow. “I should be thanking you.”
“What for? You wouldn’t let me pay for the shots.”
“What kind of man would I be to let a lady pay for her own drink? I’m a Nashville boy, we don’t do that kind of thing there.”
A lady?
It’s almost like I have to remember to breathe to keep my mouth from dropping to the floor. Nobody around these parts would call me a lady. I mean, I am a woman, obviously, but not in the Bridgerton sense. I’m used to being in my chaps and flannels on horseback mostly, if not hauling hay and cleaning out the stables and shoveling horse manure.
I don’t have time for glamor. Tonight, although by no means glamorous, I managed to wash and blow out my hair before meeting Sadie and JB, and I’m kinda thanking myself now.
“A Nashville boy?” I say. “You’re a few miles from home.”
“Sure is. But a change of scenery is always good.”
“Have you eaten yet?” I ask him, my words are on the loose before I have a chance to stop them.
“Not yet, sugar. Why? Do you wanna have dinner with me?”
Oh, how I’d love to say yes, but my compass points me toward my friends, who must be wondering where I am by now.
“I’m not in the habit of dining with strangers, but even if I wanted to make an exception, it’s girls’ night.” I nod over to Sadie and JB again. “What kind of friend would I be to ditch my two besties and spend it having dinner with a rogue cowboy?”
He chuckles, and his smile lights up his handsome face. His hair is hidden under the cowboy hat, but I can see from the nape of his neck it’s a dusty brown hue that suits his tanned complexion. The kind you get from being out in the sun, not from a tanning salon.
I resist the urge to not reach out and touch him—that must be the booze talking. Luckily, I internally kick myself and wake up from my daydream before I envision how soft and skilled those lips actually are.
My thoughts don’t seem to want to be interrupted, but I have news for them. “Let me order you dinner, at least?” I offer. “Since you did save my life and all.”
Admittedly, I was a little embarrassed about my near stumble across the bar. Not that I didn’t mind pressing into that hard wall of steel, but it wasn’t exactly graceful. “The bison burgers here are what dreams are made of,” I babble on.
I don’t miss the way his undeterred gaze never falters. Those intense eyes are having a field day at my expense. I snap my eyes away and glance over at Jill, still by the cash register swapping out some change. “Unless you’re a vegetarian like my friend?—”
One side of his mouth pulls up into a lopsided smile, it’s cute, crinkly, and has all the right qualities a girl like me would be looking for,ifI was looking, which I’m not. “I don’t know. Do I look like a vegetarian kind of guy?”
I size him up for a beat, I mean, what’s the harm in checking out the rest of him? Did God really make gorgeous creatures like the one before me so women wouldn’t look? I don’t think so. Itwould be a crime against humanity not to. So I’m doing my bit, and proud of it.
My eyes drift up from his heavy boots to his dark blue jeans, over a large bull head belt buckle, and his wide chest, tight against the fabric of his white shirt. He must work out with a body that fine. The checkered black and white flannel somehow screams sexy, and I find myself wondering in some detail what lies beneath.
“What does a vegetarian kind of guy look like?” I inquire, my sarcastic tone a cover up because I’m becoming increasingly bewildered by him and his sexy smirk.
I don’t get dazzled by a pretty face. Nope, not ever. Especially not when I’m buried up to my neck in hay and manure. It hardly leaves much time for meeting people.
“Touché. And yes to the burger, but I’m not letting you pay.”
Too late. I step back to the counter and reel off an order to Jill with a side order of fries. Everyone loves fries. She rings it up and I quickly swipe my card before he can protest or have any chance of getting to the register. It sure is good sometimes having long limbs, not that he’s shorter than me. Oh no, he’d have to be at least six three, and judging from that tight top clinging to his muscles for dear life, he’s ripped in all the right places.
“That was very sneaky, little miss. Thank you.”
I smile, proud of myself that I beat him to it. “You’ll be thanking me once you taste that burger.”
“Well, I know where you’ll be sitting, Ma’am, so there’s a high chance of that.”
I swallow at his words, and I feel my cheeks flush. I’m turning red now? What in the actual fuck?
I never get like this around guys. Then again, there aren’t many single men in this town, and most I’ve known for years and would never date or have any inclination to be romanticwith, even casually. Clearly, he’s new around here. But this Brett character has me all in a flap—also very unlike me. I’m fairly certain it’s not just the tequila I threw down my neck.
“That’s if I can make it back to my table without incident,” I quip, just as one of The Perky Porch servers comes out with a mop and bucket to clear up the mess.
