Going Cowboy Crazy Read Free Page A

her body and the zing that almost incinerated her panties. But it had been a year, a year filled with loss, pain, and revelation. A year that made a cautious conformist want to be something different. Something more like an arrogant rebel, Miss Hog Caller of Haskins County, or Annie Oakley with a loaded gun.
    Or just a woman who gave a handsome cowboy a kiss he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.
    With a moan, she threw her arms around his neck, knocking off his cowboy hat and forcing him to stumble back a step. A chorus of whoops and whistles erupted, but didn’t faze her one-track mind. Not when his lips opened wider, offering up all the good stuff. Teetering on the tiptoes of her high heels, she drove her fingers up into the silky waves of his hair, encasing his head and angling it so she had better access to the wet heat of his mouth. She dipped her tongue inside and sipped and tasted. But it still wasn’t enough.
    She wanted to consume this man. Wanted to slide her fingers over every square inch of fevered skin and sculptured muscles. Wanted to press her nose into the spot between his neck and shoulder and fill her lungs tocapacity with the smoky laundry-detergent scent of him. But most of all, she wanted to stare into the rich fertile earth and endless sea of his eyes and see a reflection of her own desires—her own wants and needs.
    Slowly, her eyes drifted open.
    But it wasn’t desire she saw in the hazel depths. And it wasn’t cocky satisfaction. This time, it looked more like stunned disbelief. Obviously, Slate’s relationship with Hope didn’t involve sexual assault.
    Stunned by her uncharacteristic behavior, Faith pulled away from his lips and dropped back down to her heels. What had she been thinking? Had she lost her mind? How could she throw herself at a complete stranger? And not just any complete stranger, but Hope’s close friend? Her gaze settled on those perfect lips—lips that were slightly parted, wet, and smeared with glittery Passion Fruit—and it became crystal clear why she had lost her mind. The man was beyond hot. He was one sizzling stick of yummy, and she was a deprived child with a sweet tooth.
    “Thatta way, Hope,” a man on the other side of the pool table yelled. “You can take the girl out of the country but you can’t take the country out of the girl!”
    “Ooooo—wee, Coach! It looks like you was missed,” someone else joined in.
    “Does this mean you’re stayin’, Little Bit?” Kenny’s friend stepped closer.
    “Stayin’?” A voice came from the back. “With enthusiasm like that, I wouldn’t let that woman out of my sight!”
    “Is that true, Slate?” Kenny asked. “You gonna let Hope go back to Hollywood after that kind of greetin’?”
    Slate blinked. Once. Twice. Three times. Slowly, theshock receded from his eyes, but his shoulders remained tense. He cleared his throat twice before he spoke, but it still didn’t sound as smooth or confident as it had.
    “Well, I guess that depends.”
    “Depends on what?” someone asked.
    “On whether or not she still likes me after she finds out I let The Plainsville Panthers whup our butts.”
    The room erupted in laughter, followed quickly with grumbled comments about hometown refs. Then a man with a huge belly and an even bigger handlebar mustache pushed his way over.
    “All right, you’ve had your turn, Slate. Give someone else a chance to welcome our girl home.”
    For a fraction of a second, those hazel eyes narrowed, and the hands at her waist tightened. But then he released her and she was passed from one big bear hug to the next, accompanied with the greeting “Welcome home, Hope.”
    She wasn’t Hope.
    But, strangely enough, it felt like home.

Chapter Two
     
    S LATE C ALHOUN SAT BACK IN THE DARK CORNER and watched the woman in the conservative pants and brown sweater take another sip of her beer as if it was teatime at Buckingham Palace. Hell, she even held her little pinkie out. If that was Hope