Page 27 of Dirty Cowboy

Eric tilts his head, and I slap his arm playfully. “I’m kidding, Eric. Of course, it’s country-themed. And I can’t wait to taste your mom’s apple pie.”

“Because?” he prompts, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“Because she uses your late grandmother’s secret recipe.”

His grin widens. “Youwerelistening.”

Of course, I was. This is my chance to show Eric I can shift from a sophisticated city girl to a full-blown country queen. I push my shoulders together just enough to emphasize my assets, fully aware of how they rise with the move.

“Do you like it when I listen to you, Eric?”

Even I’m surprised by the sultry tone in my voice.

His lips part slightly, his breath almost audible. He leans forward, meeting me halfway. “Something tells me, Ems, there’s more to you than meets the eye.”

The air stills between us. Outside, the world blurs by, but all I see ishim—the flicker in his amber eyes, the way his chest moves with each measured breath. The rhythmic clatter of the train wheels mirrors the rapid beat of my pulse. He’s close. Too close.

Then, the train lurches with a sudden shift, and a sharp sway. We rock forward, then back, the moment snapping apart.

“We’re here.”

His throat works, his jaw tightening. I pull away, forcing a shaky exhale. “I should get my suitcase.”

I stand, but the train jolts again, and I stumble straight into him. My body presses flush against his—solid, warm,hard.

And not just in one place.

Oh. My. God.

Heat floods my skin as my mind goes rogue, cataloging every inch of him against me. His muscles flex, steadying me, but it’s theothermuscle I can’t ignore. My chest rises and falls too fast, my breath tangling with his scent of hay, leather, and crisp autumn air.

Eric Waterssmellslike home. And it’s wrecking me.

The train fully stops, and he lets go, stepping back just as my knees wobble.

“You okay?” His voice is too steady. Too unaffected.

I straighten my blazer, suddenly wishing I’d changed before we left. “Yup, all good,” I lie.

Outside, Eric’s neighbor Blake waits with a wide grin. He’s closer to my age than Eric, with a boyish charm that makes him instantly likable. As we drive, the scent of fresh soil and cool air wafts through the open windows. Meadows stretch endlessly, framed by golden willows swaying in the breeze.

We pass a bridge, then another. Eric points out the Fields’ farm across the river, and ten minutes later, we pull into a long, winding driveway.

The wrought-ironWmonogram hanging from the front gate looms ahead. White fencing surrounds the property, disappearing into the horizon. I roll down my window, inhaling the familiar blend of fresh harvest and earthy farm air. Tall willows bend low to the ground, their branches whispering secrets in the wind.

Everything has grown, blossomed, and changed.

Blake parks near a path lined with blooming roses, and before I can gather myself, Eric is already at my door. He grabs my suitcase, his duffel bag slung over his shoulder. We wave Blake off as he pulls away, leaving behind a cloud of dust and silence.

I turn, taking in the vast stretch of golden fields. My heel sinks into soft soil, and before I can react, I teeter off balance. Strong hands catch me, steadying me before I can make a complete fool of myself.

“You okay?” Eric murmurs, his grip firm.

I nod, using his arm for balance. “Yeah, thanks. Just…a little nervous.”

“You’ve met my parents before.”

“Not as your wife-to-be.” I wince. “Jesus, that sounds…terrifying.”

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