Falling For A Cowboy (2 page)

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Authors: Anne Carrole

BOOK: Falling For A Cowboy
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He leaned both elbows on the counter
.
A
firm butt
jutted behind
to fill
out his worn
Wranglers
.
Along w
ith
the
plaid
,
pearl-buttoned shirt
,
he
had on
the uniform of a cowboy
.
Based on the weathered cast
of the fabric
,
she figured he might be for real rather than a wannabe
tourista
,
even if he wasn

t a contender.


I just won saddle
bronc
.

His smile lit big, showing off snow white teeth and
a
very kissable
mouth
.
It
would
definitely be someone other than her enjoying those f
ull
lips now that he

d confessed he was a rough
stock rider. Not that she

d had any intention of trying
,
or any hope of success.
She
wasn

t the kind of woman
that
guys like him went for.

She gave him a once over for effect before commenting
.

You

re too tall to be
a
bronc
rider
.


So I

ve been told
.
But then Dan Mortens
e
n

s
been
a
n NFR saddle
bronc
qualifier multiple times
and he

s
close to six feet
.
And
, of course,
I did just win
a couple grand
.

Langley
had just upped its prize money to try to attract more cowboys
.
With the changes in the PRCA tour,
the town fathers were afraid the best riders
might neglect
Langley
if it didn

t provide more incentive. It had caused quite a ruckus until
Dan
and
Jenna Connors
, local ranchers,
had
agreed to guarantee the additional money
.


True
,
but he

s the exception.


That proves the rule?

This time she couldn

t help the smile.


There it is.

The cowboy chuckled
, those blue eyes of his lighting right up
.

I thought maybe you didn

t know how
.


I know how about a lot of things.

T
hose words
snapped
out before she
could stop them.
Last thing she wanted
was
this cowboy to think she was flirting
.
She wasn

t
into
puffing up
cowboy
egos
.
Especially at her
own
expense.

He brought the beer to his lips while his gaze held hers. Darn if she could look away.

I bet you do
darlin

.

He took a sip and set the beer down
.

This place on your T-shirt


he
stare
d at
the small rise of her
chest where
bold blue letters spelled out
B
eehive
Saloon
.

Y
ou

ll be working there tonight?

Heat stole up her face
as his gaze locked on her body
.
She

d never been well-endowed like
her best friend
Tara
Lynn
.
Dusty
was tiny—small-boned
,
her mother called it
.
Another name for barely there.
She wasn

t the
kind of
girl Texas cowboys hungered
for
.
Not that she wanted this one to
hunger
for
her
.
But she didn

t
appreciate the
reminder
his stare
sent
.

She wait
ed
for him to look up
.
No way was she going to have a conversation
with
his hat.

When he finally
raised his gaze
,
she answered.

No.


J
ust run the concession?

This was
getting beyond
mindless
conversation.
Didn

t anyone else want a beer
?
S
he stared out at the almost empty walkway
.
The announcer

s voice was still booming from the box and cheers were heralding good
bull
rides.


On
ly
Saturday
s,

she said
.

That

s
four dollars
.

He fished in his pocket causing the denim to stretch over private places
.
Damn
.
Don

t go there, she silently cautioned her eyes
.
Too bad they weren

t listening.


If I go
to the B
eehive
tonight
, wi
ll I
at least
see you there?

he asked, giving her
the kind of smile that
promise
d
a good time. He held out
a
five
dollar
bill
.

Keep the change.


Thank you,

she said, ringing him up
.

And unlikely.

He frowned for the first time
.
He obviously hadn

t expected that answer
.
Good looking as he was, s
he imagined few women
said no
to him.


I

d appreciate the company unless you

re in a relationship or something.
Maybe even then.

He flashed another grin but this time it didn

t reach his eyes
.
He was undoubtedly looking for a reason for her refusal.

She wouldn

t
lie to
spare his pride
and s
he was
n

t
fooled
into thinking
he really wanted to be with her
.
He was just placing a safe bet in case he couldn

t score with anyone else.
She was
all too familiar with the routine
.
She

d show up and he

d already have his arm around a woman with
ample
curves
in all the right places
and he

d forget he

d
ever met
Dusty
. Not that she would have agreed under any circumstances
.
He was a rodeo cowboy after all.

No
relationship
.
Just not interested.


Ouch.

He straightened to his full height
, a frown creasing his
rugged
forehead
.

Movement behind him caught her eye
.
Finally someone
else
was coming
for a beer
.

A wiry
young cowboy
sauntered up
and slapped
her customer
on the
back
.

Hey, Clay
.
Thought I

d find you out here.

He was shorter than
his friend
.
H
is denim jeans and chambray shirt
were
dusty, his
broad
brow sweaty under the beige cowboy hat.

Where there

s a
pretty
woman, that

s where you

ll find Clay.
Howdy ma

am.

He tipped his hat and settled it back on his blond head of hair.

Don

t believe anything he

s told
you.

She graced
the newcomer
with a smile.
He

d just confirmed
her instincts
.

Beer?


Please,

h
e answered
, giving her a hu
g
e grin in return
.
He wasn

t handsome like his friend but he had an open, honest face.


I

ll buy
,

Clay
called
from behind as she drew
the
beer. When she turned around
a five dollar bill was
on the counter.

She set the beer down and retrieved the money.
The cowboy said his thanks, keeping his mouth in a grin.


Keep the change
but a
t least tell me your name
.

Clay

s hands were keeping his hips
company.

She rang up the sale
,
star
ing
at the register rather than
at
him
or his friend
.

Dusty
.
Dusty Morgan.


For your hair, I

m guessing.

She glanced up.
He was smiling at her again
.
She had to give it to him for persistence—and for guessing right
.
She nodded.


I

m Clay Tanner and this here grinning fool is Jesse
Blair
.

He reached out a hand
.
S
he could do nothing but grasp it
.
His grip was strong, his touch warm. When he released, she felt tingles
clear through her arm
.
Lordy
.
Jesse shot his hand forward and she gave
it
a quick shake—and felt nothing.

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