Total pages in book: 37
Estimated words: 34190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 34190 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 171(@200wpm)___ 137(@250wpm)___ 114(@300wpm)
Cole slides in beside me, way too close considering the acres of empty booth. His thigh presses against mine, all heat and solid muscle, and I nearly whimper. I brace myself for small talk, but nope, he just zeroes in like a heat-seeking missile.
“Comfortable?” His voice is low, teasing, sending shivers straight to my core.
If he only knew. My brain’s short-circuiting, my pulse a staccato drum line. I try to act normal, but my voice comes out all husky. “No. I’d rather be at home in my comfy pjs watching reality TV. I don’t belong at fancy steakhouses.” I’m not sure what it is about him that makes me want to blurt out the unvarnished truth, but here I am, telling him all my secrets.
Cole leans closer, his arm stretching along the back of the booth, caging me in like I’m dessert and he skipped dinner just to devour me. “You belong anywhere you want, sweetheart. If someone makes you feel out of place, I’ll gladly show them the error of their ways.”
Oh, Jesus. I’m seconds from melting right through this fancy leather seat.
The waitress glides over with a tray in her hands and a look that says she’s seen it all, but even she does a double-take when she sees Cole pressed up against me like he’s staking his claim. I try to remember how to breathe as she sets down two glasses of ice water and hands us our menus.
Cole doesn’t give her a second glance. His entire focus is on me. Honestly, I’m surprised I haven’t spontaneously combusted from the heat coming off him. I can feel his stare sliding up the length of my bare thigh under the table, and it takes all my willpower not to squirm.
“Would you like to start with drinks?” The waitress smiles, but her eyes are locked on Cole like she’s hoping he’ll look her way. Fat chance.
Cole leans in, voice rough as sin. “Do you want a drink, Montana?” His thumb strokes along my shoulder, slow and warm, and it takes everything in me not to turn into a puddle right there in the booth.
Holy. Shit. He’s barely touching me, but my body’s already in full meltdown. I try to play it cool, but my nipples are so hard under this dress, there’s no way he hasn’t noticed. I fight the urge to squirm, which is totally unfair because the man is sitting so close I can smell him. Not aftershave or cologne, just clean skin, a hint of woodsmoke, and something that makes my brain short-circuit. I don’t know what it is, but I want to bottle it and bathe in it.
“Uh, I’ll take a glass of red wine. Whatever’s house.” My voice comes out way too breathy.
Cole grins at the waitress and barely glances her way. “Bottle of your best red and a whiskey neat for me.” The poor girl trips over her two feet, heading away with our order.
The instant she leaves, Cole turns, closing the gap between us. I can feel the wall of heat pouring off him, and every rational neuron in my brain freezes up.
“Hell, I could drown in those eyes of yours, Montana. I’ve never wanted anything so bad in my damn life.” His voice is so deep it vibrates right through my chest, making my nipples ache, and my thighs clench tighter under the table. If he keeps looking at me like that, someone is going to have to mop up the booth.
My rational side decides now is the right moment to step in and ruin things. “I thought we were here to discuss Thunderbolt.”
He doesn’t even blink. “We can discuss Thunderbolt later. After we get to know each other.”
“What do you want to know?” Maybe some normal conversation will give me the chance to cool my jets a little.
Cole studies me for a second, then leans back. “So, tell me the real story. Why’d you have to sell Thunderbolt?”
The words hit like a punch. “Not much mystery,” I say, picking at the white, starched napkin in my lap. “My mother’s husband bailed last winter, sold my mother’s third of the ranch to a shady investment firm, and cleaned out all of our savings.” It’s embarrassing to admit it.
He nods, slow, not pitying—just listening. “I’ll need the information on that investment firm so we can figure out what you’re dealing with.”
“When did this suddenly become your problem?” I’m not going to lie; the thought of someone else helping me deal with this nightmare sounds like heaven, but I’m not ready to trust this is real.
“The moment I laid eyes on you in Molly’s Diner, I knew you belonged to me.” I blink several times, wondering if I just stepped into the fucking Twilight Zone. “And I’ll do whatever it takes to protect you.”