Anything that gets you in my arms, City Girl.
Those words had replaced Paige’s annoying voice.
He’d ridden out this morning with a group for a cattle branding demonstration and I’d stood on the porch with my coffee and watched him go, feeling his absence like a physical ache. I’d never felt that before about someone.
Paige was going to be so insufferable about all of this. But she was right, a woman only turned thirty once. It was time to let go of all the expectations I might or might not have. It was time to see what dancing in a cowboy’s arms felt like.
It was time to see what it felt like to be in a cowboy’s bed.
The knock came exactly on time.
Slade stood on the other side of the door, took one look at me, and went completely still.
No cocky grin from the first day. No satisfied smile from the day of the barn. Not even the easy confidence he wore like asecond skin. Just—still, for one unguarded moment, looking at me. He took in the dress, the hair loose around my shoulders, and my pretty pink boots, all clean and shiny. His eyes tracked a slow, searing path from my bare legs to my neckline with an expression that did more for me in three seconds than any look I’d ever received from a man.
The nerves evaporated, replaced by a rush of liquid heat.
I looked back. I allowed myself to take it all in—the fit of his jeans, the Western-cut black shirt that had no right to define his shoulders the way it did, the broad chest and the arms. The arms that were going to be around me tonight.
“You look—” His voice dropped low and my body responded as it always did. My nipples hardened and I probably needed to excuse myself to go change my panties.
“—beautiful,” he finished.
felt that from my head to my toes.
“You clean up nice, yourself.”
The smile came then, wicked and promising. Oh, so promising. “High praise.”
“Don’t push it.”
He offered his arm. I took it, the solid muscle bunching beneath my fingertips, and we walked to the dance.
The space was perfect. A wide, open pavilion strung with fairy lights. A four-piece band was setting up on a flatbed trailer, and food tables laden with something for everyone.
Carl and Lucinda saw us coming, pleased expressions on their faces.
“You look beautiful.” Lucinda took my hands, giving them a squeeze.
“Thank you. This looks beautiful. Did you do this all by yourself?”
“Heavens, no. I work smarter, not harder. I pay someone to make it look this way.”
Carl shook Slade’s hand and said something low that I didn’t catch, and Slade said something back that made Carl smile. Slade led me straight to the dance floor and took me in his arms.
“I’ve been thinking about holding you like this all day, City Girl.”
He pulled me in, not leaving a centimeter of space between us, and we started to move as one.
Of course, he was a good dancer. How could he not be with all that athletic grace? He led with the quiet confidence he brought to everything, one arm heavy and warm against my back, his hand wrapped around mine, holding it against his chest. It was nice. This barn dance in Texas.
Or maybe it was just him holding me in his arms.
“The giraffe situation seems under control,” he said near my ear, his warm breath sending a shiver down my neck.
“Don’t jinx it.” I leaned my head against his chest, inhaling the scent of him, and let him lead me wherever he wanted to take me.
His chest moved with a low laugh. The music shifted, a lively, faster beat, and before I could protest, he moved his arm, and with one smooth, explosive movement, he twirled me out. I gasped, the skirt of my dress billowing, the lights of the pavilion blurring around me. Before I could even think about stumbling in my pretty pink boots, he pulled me back to him.
