Miss Firecracker Read Free

news of all. Their neighbors to the east, who’d been looking to expand, agreed to buy everything but the sheep on the West Ranch outright. The dollar amount his dad named nearly had Blake’s eyeballs popping out of his head.
    And that was just Blake’s half.
    The first thing he’d done was pack up his worldly goods from his crappy singlewide trailer and rent a house in Sundance. The second thing he’d done was sleep. The third thing he’d done was become a bum.
    Well, not really a bum, although at times he felt like one, lying in bed until eight in the morning. Lifting weights at the community center with his cousins. Playing with his dog. Loafing on the couch with a book until his shift started at the Rusty Spur. Instead of working three jobs, bartending part-time was his sole occupation. No riding the range looking for lost sheep. No last minute handyman projects for his cousin’s construction business.
    He’d gone from out-of-his-mind busy to bored-out-of-his-skull.
    Blake jumped at the chance to manage his good buddy Dave’s bar in Nebraska while Dave took a much-needed vacation. Dave was one of the few guys Blake had confided in about his situation after the ranch sale: his restlessness, his worry about his dad, his struggle to figure out what to do with the rest of his life. Bartending in a town where no one knew him would allow Blake to shake the phantom sheep shit off his boots and be someone else for a while.
    And maybe Blake could finally fulfill his fantasy of finding a no-strings fling. The women in his hometown preferred his bad boy, hell raisin’ McKay cousins to a simple nice guy like him.
    Which was another reason he’d sought escape from Wyoming. Once word got out Blake West had money, women who’d never given him the time of day would flock to him like sheep. Another irony, since being a sheepherder had been part of his lack of appeal with the ladies.
    Might make him a dreamer, but Blake hoped to find a woman who wanted him for him—even if it was only for a week of hot sex over the Fourth of July. The town was packed to the gills with people attending family and class reunions and the county fair. Surely there was one woman who’d be up for generating some major sparks with him.
    Immediately the delectable Willow Gregory appeared in his mind’s eye. There was something about the former Miss Firecracker that made him want to blow his Mr. Nice Guy persona straight to hell.
    After mopping the floor behind the bar, Blake restocked the liquor shelves. He called the supplier and tripled the beer order. He lined up limes, lemons and oranges for slicing.
    He’d just poured himself a Coke on ice when the cowbell on the front door clanked and Willow slunk in. Damn, she looked good. “Feeling better?”
    “No. It’ll take more than a shower and four aspirin to purge my misdeeds, sad to say.” Her gaze zeroed in on his glass. “Are you drinking on the job?”
    Rather than ask why Willow had such a low opinion of him right off the bat, he answered, “Nope,” very curtly. He pointed his finger at her. “And just so we’re straight, no drinking on the job for you either.”
    “That’s not gonna be a problem. Today anyway.” She marched around the bar and planted herself in front of him.
    Blake looked down at her. The top of her head didn’t reach his shoulder. If Mandy hadn’t checked her ID he never would’ve believed she was almost twenty-six. Willow projected sweetness and innocence with her cherubic face, big brown eyes, and wavy chestnut hair. Mercy, he’d like to drag her upstairs and prove that innocence was just a veneer.
    “Where am I supposed to put my stuff?”
    His gaze reconnected with hers as he tried to forget how perfect she looked naked. In his bed. “There’s a locker in the breakroom, which is next to the bathrooms.”
    “Thanks.”
    His eyes narrowed when Willow was back in a flash.
    “You’re scowling at me like I’ve already done something wrong.”
    “It’s