Sweet Jesus she was sweet.
With her long sweep of honey-blonde hair, heart-shaped face and full lips outlined with red lipstick, she commanded a lustful second, third and fourth look from every man in the room.
So why was she still alone?
Because she’s waiting for you.
“Who is she?” Cal asked.
“No idea. Never seen her around here before.” Women who looked like her were in short supply in Wyoming.
“Maybe she’s just passin’ through,” Cal offered.
“Then I’d better make my move and convince her to stay permanently.” Carson drained his beer and adjusted his hat. “How do I look?”
“How much you been drinkin’? You never give a shit about that.”
“It’s never mattered before.”
Cal shook his head. “Right. You’re so full of it.”
“I’m serious.”
“Fine. You look like you’re already imagining her in the cab of your truck with her skirt pushed up and her panties pushed down, while you’re pounding away between her thighs.”
“I ain’t that obvious.”
“No, you’re much smoother than that, but admit that we McKays have the f**k ’em and leave ’em reputation because of you, Carson.”
“Bullshit. You and Casper and now even Charlie think you’re so much more discreet, but you ain’t.”
“Don’t get your hopes up that she hasn’t already been warned about your wild ways.”
“Guess we’ll see, won’t we?” Carson tossed his bottle in the trash.
He kept his gaze on her as he cut through the crowd. He must’ve looked like a man on a mission because no one got in his way.
When he stood behind her, close enough to catch a whiff of hair spray and her perfume, his heart knocked in his chest. Even his damn knees knocked. Why did this feel so important?
She sensed him and turned. Her eyes, the pale blue color of a summer Wyoming sky, widened slightly. Those tempting red lips parted and she unconsciously backed up.
Carson took advantage of the opening and stepped up to the bar so their bodies were mere inches apart. “You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. How about we skip all this dating bullshit and just head straight to the altar?”
Her confused eyes roamed his face. “Did you just ask me to marry you?”
“Yep. So what d’ya say?”
“Does that line usually work for you, cowboy?”
He tucked a section of silky blonde hair behind her ear. “It ain’t a line. And trust me; I’ve never said those words to another woman in my life.”
“You don’t even know my name.”
“I’m guessing…Angel?”
“Angel? Really?”
“That’s a sight better than my first thought, which was…Cherry.”
Her face flushed pink.
He followed the delicate curve of her ear with the tip of his finger to the start of her jawline. “What is your name?”
“Carolyn.”
“Carolyn,” he repeated, and continued to feather his thumb across that soft skin. “Pretty.” Something primal overtook him and he leaned closer, almost desperate to feel the press of her lips against his. Desperate to make his claim. He lowered his head and brushed his lips over hers just one time.
Her plump lips were unyielding and her whole body stiffened.
Determined to get the reaction he needed, he let his lips linger, silently coaxing her to open her mouth in invitation and accept his kiss. To accept him.
Her exhale bounced off his lips as a sexy sigh.
Oh yeah. You’re all mine now.
Feeling like he’d won a battle, he eased back.
That’s when she slugged him in the jaw.
If he hadn’t been paying better attention she might’ve done some damage beyond the blow to his pride.
Fire flashed in her eyes. “Don’t ever do that again,” she snapped. “Walk your smarmy cowboy self away from me right now.”
“That ain’t gonna happen.” Ever.
“Do you always go around kissing women without their permission?”
Carson cocked his head. “Never. I am sorry for takin’ advantage of your sweet nature, but damn, sugar, I wanted a taste of you. Bein’s we’re gonna be married and all.”
Her shoulders snapped back. “Sweet nature? After I hit you?”
Funny that she didn’t balk at his married comment but being called sweet got her back up. “Beneath that right uppercut you are sweet, aren’t you?”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“So tell me all about you. Every last little thing.”
“You are unbelievable.”
“So are you.” Carson couldn’t tear his gaze away from her and had to ball his hands into fists to keep from touching her. “How often do you hang out in dancehalls?”
She rallied against his intensive stare, lifting that stubborn chin. “None of your business.”
“But it is. I’m offerin’ to watch your back—and your front—” he winked, “—if you wanna cut loose.”
“What makes you think I need your help ripping it up? Maybe I could teach you a thing or two about getting wild.”
“Doubtful.” Without breaking eye contact, Carson swiped the drink sitting on the bar in front of her. “You a whiskey and Coke girl? Or a rum and Coke girl?” He put the lowball glass to his lips and drank. “Just as I thought. You’re a Coke straight up girl. That’s real wild.”
“There’s no rule that says I have to drink alcohol when I come to these dances.”
“True. So if you’re not here to drink, then you must be here to dance.” Carson reached for her hand and threaded their fingers together. “Would you please dance with me, Carolyn?”
She bit her lip. To keep from lashing out at him again?
“Come on, sugar,” he cajoled with a smile. “I asked all nice and polite this time.”
“Does that dimpled smile get you anything you want?”
“I’m hopin’ it does this time.”
“I don’t even know your name.”
“It’s Carson.”
“Carson? Of course it’s Carson,” she muttered.
He bristled. “What’s wrong with the name Carson?”
Her skeptical gaze snared his. “Nothing. It just sounds like the name of a steely-eyed gunslinger hero who rides in, saves the western town and makes all the ladies swoon.”