Page 10

"Get hung up on somebody two-and-a-half songs after meeting them."

She goes still against me, just for a second. "Who says you're hung up?"

"I say." I run my thumb once along the inside of her wrist. "And I already told you. I don't lie."

"You said you exaggerate."

"Not about this."

She tips her head back to look at me, her expression full of wariness and curiosity. But I don't miss the little flicker of interest she's trying to hide. It's all tangled together and makes my cock harder than it should.

I've danced with plenty of women in this bar. I've said prettier things to some of them and meant less by every word. But standing here with Lainey's pulse ticking fast under my hand, I can't remember the last time a woman grabbed my attention and held it.

Nerves appear on her face. "You're quiet all of a sudden."

"I'm thinking."

"About?"

"How Carla's gonna give me hell for this later."

"For what? Dancing?"

"For looking at her best friend the way I'm looking at you right now."

Her flush intensifies up her neck, pretty and pink.

I add, "And for how you're looking at me."

She doesn't flinch.

I admit, "I already know I'm gonna think about this dance long after you're back home in your boring town with no cowboys."

Her lips twitch. "I never said no cowboys. Just none like this."

"Like what?"

She hesitates, as if she's deciding how much to give me, then says, "Persistent."

I cock another grin. "I prefer determined."

"I bet you do."

I spin her out again, then dip her. She laughs as I lift her back up to her feet.

Behind us, somebody hollers that it's an hour to midnight, and the bar erupts into a fresh round of noise, boots stomping, glasses clinking, and somebody starting up a chant for another round of shots at the bar.

Lainey glances toward the sound. Her attention drifts back toward Carla and the rest of the night waiting outside our dance.

It makes my stomach twist.

Other people mean another cowboy can swoop in. So I take a finger and turn her cheek, bringing her attention back to me. "Hey. Before Carla steals you away and tells you every terrible story she's got about me—and trust me, she's got a library's worth—answer me without any hesitation."

"Depends on the question."

I slow us down, even though the song's picked up again around us, other couples spin faster, and boots work harder. I don't care. I'd rather have this. "You said you don't have an angle. But you came to a cowboy bar on New Year's Eve in a dress designed to make every man forget his own name. So what are you actually doing here, Lainey?"

Her breath catches, and it's the second time tonight I've watched that happen. I like it more than I should.