Good Time Cowboy. Maisey Yates

tone.

      He damn near shook his head.

      He had expected better from her. She had gone and shown her hand. She was already eager to get this over with. And he didn’t have anywhere else in the world to be. Which meant he was gonna take his sweet-ass time.

      He closed the door to the pickup truck slowly, then made his way around the back to the small horse trailer that was hitched up there. “It’ll take a couple of hours to do the whole trail,” he commented.

      “I know,” she said. “When Sabrina and Jamie worked out the route, they discussed that.”

      He nodded. Also slowly. “Right.”

      Only a man who’d made a study of Lindy Parker would have any idea how agitated she was. But, he was a man who’d made a study of her.

      The way her blue eyes flashed when she was angry. The way she pursed her lips together and pressed her mouth into a flat line to keep from displaying any emotion she hadn’t damn well chosen to display.

      The particular set of her shoulders, the way she squared her hips. Like she was ready to face an opponent in battle.

      He saw all those things contained in her still form and placid expression.

      Because he was a fool.

      A fool who was really enjoying drawing all this out.

      He undid the latch on the horse trailer, then slid it open. He climbed up inside and encouraged the two horses they were taking out on the ride—Emmy Lou and Trixie—out into the lot.

      All the while very aware of the fact that Lindy was standing there, stiff-necked and anxious. Her very noncasual mood at stunning odds with the outfit she’d chosen to wear today.

      No. She was not more relaxed than usual at all. But then, he wondered if that was him, more than it was anything else.

      Unless it was Grant.

      Annoyance kicked him in the gut.

      He didn’t believe that she wanted to date Grant. But, clearly she wanted him to think that she did.

      Mostly, he was confident in the fact that she did not. Mostly, he was confident in the fact that the kind of heat and fire he’d felt when their skin had made contact last night could not be one-sided.

      He wasn’t sure if that was a victory or defeat, but he was certain of it nonetheless.

      “Grant says hi,” he mentioned offhandedly, getting the tack out of the horse trailer and beginning the process of readying the animals.

      “Does he?” she asked, keeping her tone as smooth and placid as the expression on her face.

      She was a beautiful, accomplished little liar, that woman.

      “Yes,” he said. “I told him that you...expressed some interest last night.”

      “Did you?” There was a small break in her composure. A slight twitch to her brow, a little hitch in her breath.

      If she wanted to lie, then two could play that game.

      “Yes. He was very interested.”

      “Well. That’s...good. Very good. Because, I also am very interested.”

      He stood there for a moment, the lead rope to the horse in his hands, his eyes fixed on hers. And he watched as the color mounted in her cheeks. Pink. Tempting. He wanted to kiss those blush-stained cheeks. Hell, he wanted to kiss her everywhere.

      He had a feeling that that was written on his face as clearly as the blush was written across hers. “You are shameless, Lindy Parker,” he said, bending down and tightening the girth on the horse’s saddle. Gratified when he could feel her eyes moving over his body as he worked.

      “I am not,” she snapped.

      He straightened and turned to look at her. “My brother is a grieving man. And you would use him to get at me?”

      Lindy’s mouth dropped open, then closed, like a fish. “I am not trying to...get you.”

      “I mean to irritate me.”

      She sniffed. “Well. If you didn’t think that I wanted to go out with him why did you tell him I did?”

      “I didn’t,” he said. And then he winked, because he knew it would enrage her. “But, this was a fun little play we just acted out.”

      She treated him to a very teenage facial expression and he couldn’t help but smile, imagining how she might have been when she was younger. Less polished. Less careful. “You’re such an ass.”

      She reached into the small purse she was carrying and pulled out a pair of sunglasses, jamming them over her eyes.

      As if that would protect her.

      He could read her every emotion on that pale skin. He wondered if she knew that. He wondered if anyone had ever told her that anger made her flush a certain shade of rose, that desire made her flush creep down her neck, intensifying the color.

      He knew.

      He knew, because he had been watching her for the past five years.

      There was no way on earth that didn’t sound creepy as hell, but it was the truth.

      “Sure. I never said I wasn’t.” He kept staring her down, even while he got the second saddle on the other horse, while he bent down to tighten the girth. “And you started it. You were the one who asked me about Grant.”

      “I have a feeling you think there’s something going on here,” she said, her shoulders going even stiffer. “But there isn’t. I wanted to make that clear.”

      “All you had to do was say it,” Wyatt said, except, that was a lie too. Because he knew, whatever she said, that she felt this thing that existed between them.

      “Okay. There’s nothing happening here,” she said, waving a well-manicured hand, her eyes still shielded by the large, dark glasses.

      “All right,” he said. “Saddle up, cowgirl,” he said, gesturing to Trixie, the more placid of the mares.

      “All right,” she said, snippy. She placed her foot in the stirrup and hauled herself up on the back of the horse. She wasn’t an experienced horsewoman, not as far as he could see, but she’d definitely been on the back of one before.

      With ease, he put himself in the saddle, and maneuvered himself so that he was in the lead position. “How long has it been since you’ve ridden?”

      “Oh,” she said, sounding slightly thrown at the change of topic. “I don’t know. Not since I was in high school probably? So...a long time.”

      “It’s like riding a bike,” he said. “I assume. I’ve never gone a significant amount of time without being on the back of a horse. Also, I imagine you’re a hell of a lot more saddle sore than you are when you pick up bike riding after a good number of years.”

      She huffed out a laugh. “Good to know. I look forward to the screaming muscles. And as I limp around the house, I’ll remember that you’re the reason I can barely walk.”

      He thought about letting the moment pass by. But then, he thought no. He was going to take it. “Honey, you are not the first woman to say that to me.”

      He couldn’t see her face, but if stiffness was something you could feel in the air, he was certain he felt it now.

      “You’re disgusting,” she said.

      “That is not the general consensus.”

      “See, this really does make me want to go on a date with Grant,” she commented, keeping her tone light. “Because I doubt he would ever say things like that to a lady.”

      “Grant has barely spoken to a woman in eight years. I’m not sure he knows what he would say to a