Total pages in book: 116
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 114068 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 570(@200wpm)___ 456(@250wpm)___ 380(@300wpm)
There’s no guarantee the feature will run or that our boots will end up in it. But it’s still a big deal the editors noticed us. We’ve only been knocking on their door for, oh, close to five years now.
Everyone thought I was stupid to pour my time and my life savings into a cowboy boot company. I’m ashamed to admit that on bad days, I think I really must be stupid to bet so big on myself. Who am I to believe I know what I’m doing? I’ve had to borrow way more money than I’m comfortable admitting from my parents and grandparents to keep the company afloat. I’ve only been able to pay back some of it, which is reason number one thousand why Mom and Dad don’t approve of the career path I’ve chosen.
But even though no one in my family really believes in me, I can’t quit. Not yet. Deep down, there’s a voice that keeps telling me we can make Bellamy Brooks work.
“I hope you’re not in a rush.” I set down my beer and assume the position: weight balanced evenly on both feet, shoulders relaxed, grip on the dart delicate. “You’re right—501 is my game.”
One side of Duke’s mouth quirks upward. “I got all night.”
“It won’t take me that long to kick your ass.”
“You talk a big game.”
“I’m not afraid to make big bets.”
“Awful risky when the margin for error is so small.” He nods at the board. The areas with the highest scores are placed directly beside areas with the lowest scores, so when you aim for twenty points, you could easily—very, very easily—end up with a measly one point.
“You gotta learn to be okay with losing.” I flex my wrist, muscle memory taking over as I practice my aim. “The more you lose, the closer you get to a win. At least that’s what probability and all the quotes on my Pinterest feed tell me.”
“What the hell is a Pinterest?”
I release the dart. It lands with a dull, barely audible thud just outside the bullseye. Twenty-five points.
I turn to smile at Duke. “It’s the place I go to find outfit inspiration and horny book quotes.”
“I see what you’re doing.”
“What’s that?”
“Distracting me with your excellent dart-throwing form and use of the word ‘horny.’ But two can play this game.” His bicep bulges as he lifts the hat off his head and flips it to put it on backward. His eyes lock on mine, shimmering like pavement on a scorching summer day. “Now show me what you can do.”
Laughter, easy and real, bubbles up in the back of my throat. At the same time, my mouth goes dry.
This man is so fucking hot it almost hurts to look at him. I tell myself that’s a good thing, because there’s no chance of him ever wanting me as more than a hookup. He’s the wild child, remember? Which suits me just fine, because I just want to have fun too.
Is fun all I want, though? Why does my center ping with something like pain when I glance across the bar and see Mollie and Cash dancing cheek to cheek to a Brooks & Dunn song?
I throw my second dart. It lands—shit—a centimeter to the left of my intended target. My third ends up dropping pitifully to the floor.
“Now you know how it feels.” Duke bends down to pick up the dart.
I shamelessly check out his Wrangler butt yet again because I am indeed quite horny. “How what feels?”
“To be distracted by your gorgeous opponent.” He grins. My heart plunges to its death somewhere at the base of my spine when he turns and hits a bullseye on his first throw. “Giddyup, cowgirl.”
CHAPTER 2
Hot Damn
Duke
Wheeler’s lips twitch. “But I’m not a cowgirl.”
“You sure as hell act like one.”
“How so?”
“It’s the confidence.” My eyes flick down her body. “And the strong legs.”
“Because you need strong legs for riding?”
Yep, she’s picking up what I’m laying down.
Goddamn, I like her. She smells like summer, some kinda perfume that’s tropical, juicy even, with hints of coconut and sunscreen. Absolutely delicious.
Yeah, I wanna lay her down. That’s a given. But I also wanna get to know this girl. People with new ideas, who do something other than work cattle for a living, are few and far between in these parts.
I’ve dreamed of forging my own path and seeing the world for as long as I can remember. I’m terrified of that world passing me by as I sit in Hartsville and wait for my life to begin. But meeting a person from somewhere else—someone who’s experienced things I haven’t, who knows things I don’t—is a nice reminder that the world hasn’t passed me by. I still have time to see and do new things.
“For riding, yes.” I throw another dart. Not a bullseye repeat, but close.