Page 90 of Wild Girl
I stand behind the bar at The Cowherd Whiskey Saloon & Chapel and take a deep breath as I put away the last clean wine glass. No more customers to contend with tonight. Working here is harder than my “real” job at the hair and nails salon. But I like to help out my family. My big sister did it enough for a lifetime, and now that she’s pregnant, I’m happy to pick up some of her shifts.
Before I can go turn the sign to closed, the bell above the door dings, and a tall, dark stranger walks in.
He’s wearing a black leather jacket with black jeans that can’t hide his hot body. I can’t help staring as he approaches the bar.
The weird thing about this moment is that it’s out of character for me these days. I haven’t really checked a guy out since Wink and I split. I haven’t had the desire to.
Men have been worse than distasteful to me. They’ve made me feel…fixed. Like I’ve had my sex drive removed.
But this guy…he’s doing it for me. Like in a big way.
His movements are cat-like as he prowls across the bar. He’s comfortable in his skin, and his muscular legs and broad shoulders move effortlessly.
My face heats as I watch him, and I unconsciously reach for my hair. I know my ponytail is half falling-out, and my makeup, so carefully applied this morning, has long since faded. My lips part as he takes another step closer to me, and I call out a shaky,
“Welcome to The Cowherd Whiskey Saloon & Chapel. How can I help you?”
His face is shielded by the brim of his black cowboy hat, but as he reaches the bar, he takes off the hat and grins at me.
And I gasp.
Thick dark eyelashes. Midnight-colored eyes that can see into your freaking soul. Full lips that frame a perfect set of white, straight teeth. High cheekbones and a strong, square jaw that’s always set in determination.
“Clay?” The word comes out squeakier than I’d meant for it to.
His grin widens in that annoying-as-fuck way only Clay Wild can pull off.
“Good evening, Riley. Long time.”
I shake my head, but I’m helpless to stop his hand as it snakes across the bar and strokes my bare arm. I immediately break out in goosebumps, and he trails his fingers across my skin like he knows exactly what he’s doing to me. What he’s always done to me.
“Your husband’s back in town.” He reaches inside the neck of his shirt and pulls out a chain with a familiar-looking ring attached. “Aren’t you going to say hello to me?”
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