One Night with a Cowboy (Paint River Ranch) (Entangled Indulgence) Read Free

tight ass, she had no doubt.
    “What’ll ya have?” he glanced at her over his shoulder and Sophie’s insides melted a little. His slightly downturned eyes had a sleepy vibe, the irises an unusual swirl of dark emerald and blue. He flicked the toothpick over a pouty lower lip. His chin was pointed, nose straight with a blunt tip, his jaw strong and covered with a whisper of dark brown stubble. Self-doubt echoed inside her; he was tempting, and she really, really should be high-tailing it out of there. Her time in Montana would likely be short, and the last thing she needed was additional baggage when she returned to Minnesota. But when his brows raised, his lips curving into a crooked smile, it was a definite stay.
    Damn.
    “Budweiser,” she managed. He gave an approving nod, turning around a few moments later with two full plastic cups.
    “Cheers.” He raised his glass.
    A chunk of mahogany hair peeked out from under his hat. Sophie’s mouth went dry. “To?”
    “To you, for being the best part of my day.” He tapped his glass against hers. Sophie laughed behind a sip.
    “Oh, you’re smooth.” She flicked a drip of foam off the lip of the cup. He tracked the movement, the light in his eyes getting darker. He took a sip from his glass, never taking his gaze from hers.
    “Canadian.” He said pointedly.
    Sophie frowned. “Hmmm?” She took another sip. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d had a beer. Wine was her usual, but she regretted that a little because the beer was foamy heaven on her tongue.
    “Your accent sounds Canadian.”
    “Nope. But I get that a lot.” His face displayed that his mind was working out other possibilities as they walked out of the tent area and into the melee of carnival-goers. Music blasted from a band on stage mixed with the varied tinkling jingles of the rides.
    “Wisconsin!” he smiled, proud of himself. That smile was cocky and sexy as hell.
    “Hate to disappoint you, cowboy, but no. One last guess.” Was she flirting? It had been so long since she’d engaged socially with a man, she’d almost forgotten how. Sophie took a shaky drink.
    “Do I win a prize if I’m right?” Smoke filled his eyes, turning the green/blue to an earthy dark shade. She didn’t answer, just mentally rolled around in the sensual look on his rugged face. Sophie’s neck burst into tingles and, despite rubbing a palm there, the sensation didn’t go away.
    He took another drink. “Minnesota.”
    Sophie saluted him with her cup, barely able to catch her breath to form words. “Ding, ding. You win. Very good.”
    He smiled around the toothpick. She tried to look away, but brain and body communication was having a small malfunction. Back home, men mostly came from one of three groups: businessman, college student, or hipster. There were a few other types scattered into the mix, but no cowboys. From the stark white hat, to the dark jeans and the polished silver belt buckle that shone in the light enough to give a girl glitter-envy, this man pulled off cowboy really well.
    He bumped into her arm, sending fire through her body. Sophie stumbled, sloshing beer on the ground. One big hand wrapped around her upper arm to steady her. She smiled up at him, feeling silly and way too flustered. She’d never been one to shy away from men, but lately, a date or even a passing thought of a hook-up had been the farthest thing from her mind. Stress made some people find randy outlets, like too much sex or alcohol. Her? She holed up in her apartment and stared at the television. She preferred to be alone when she was crabby and stressed—just her and the occasional cheap bottle of Arbor Mist.
    Little fingernails of panic streaked down her spine at the hard warmth of Tucker’s touch. There was something sublimely familiar about this cowboy, and it caused a little voice inside her to scream get back in the game, instead of run away, stupid . His fingers slid away from her skin, leaving a singed