Page 17 of Risking it for the Cowboy

“Ask what who?” he bit out.

“The Harvard lawyer cousin. The farm. It means a lot to you. I can see it.”

His finger kept tracing the skin of her shoulder, the strap still running back and forth on the pad of his pointer. “He’d be a fool to give up the reins to a dumbass kid who’d rather play guitar in cheap bars.” He chuckled languidly, but she remained silent.

Then turned to look up at him. “You’re not a kid anymore, though. And something tells me you’ve never been a dumbass.”

His eyes met hers. This brilliant scientist didn’t think he was?

God knew Tyler was always lecturing his ass, even if he meant well. His sisters, as doting as they were and as much as he’d die for them, were always prodding him. His teachers, and parents, and the cops … always a damned lecture. And yet from her…

Those imploring green eyes, challenging him to be ambitious.

He pressed a kiss to her shoulder. “Verdict’s still out on that, baby.” He chuckled to play off the strange sentiment of someone seeing more in him.

“You said he was the only one to give you a chance.” He hadn’t actually finished that sentiment in the bar, but she seemed to have filled in the blanks, reading him like a book as he’d been doing with her, finishing each other’s thoughts. “You seem to trust him. Why wouldn’t he at least listen to you? What’s the worst he would say? No? I just thought, if you care that much, you’d probably make an amazing owner…”

Amazing… “Sweetheart, I’ve been called the triple A of accolades—asshole, aggravatin’, argumentative … never amazing.”

His eyes held hers. Amazing. Not his music. Not his dick. Not his smile. Him. A challenge. To not give up fighting by rolling over for others. But to take a no and keep pushing until it was a yes.

“Amazing…” He pressed his lips to hers and whispered, as his palm slid around her nape, “Says the girl who gave up her dream to become a wallflower.”

She froze at his scolding. His eyes bounced back and forth between hers to understand the sudden shift.

She slapped the scrapbook shut as redness warmed her cheeks and she tensed in his touch. “He always said I overstep my place. I’m sorry—”

“Wait, wait, wait…” What? “Who says that?”

He started caressing her strap again to put her at ease.

Her eyes searched his again. “You’re still here.” She chewed on that luscious lip, like she seemed wont to do. “You don’t have to be. I won’t cling or cry if you wanted to take off.”

He pressed his lips to hers. “Naw, baby, I got a proposition for you.”

He wrapped her in his arms and hauled her onto the bed and buried himself between her welcoming arms and legs once more.

Chapter Six

No … Charlie hunched down, her body curled around the bundle in her arms.

“Dammit, Charlie! Don’t you dare leave! Don’t you dare think you can walk out this door, upstaging me, humiliating me, using me…”

A sob tore from her throat, the warm tang of blood dripping down her chin and coating her tongue.

“Flower girl,” a soft baritone whispered, warm and gentle like the breeze licking across Charlie’s wounded skin…

She jolted awake.

Heart raced. Lungs pumping.

“Baby, what’s wrong?” More baritone words, roughened from sleep, reverberated through her, but they weren’t Jason’s. They were … McClintock’s? He was still here? He still hadn’t left?

Teak, mint, and salty, warm skin filled her senses.

“Is it morning?”

“Ain’t morning yet, baby,” he murmured, while those calluses snagging her skin brushed her clammy hair off her brow. “You were having a bad dream. Shakin’ and all.”