Page 31 of Dirty Cowboy

“Have some pie, Albert. This one’s sugar-free. Just apples.” Joanne sets a plate in front of him before standing. “I better get cleaning.”

Eric stands, taking the dishes from her hands. “Mom, sit down. I got it. You’ve been on your feet all day.”

I lift from my seat. “I’ll help.”

“You haven’t finished eating.”

“I’m full already. And I want to help.”

Joanne’s smile widens, her gaze warm and expectant, as if she’s already imagining grandchildren in our future.

“Emma, darling, you must be tired from the trip. Eric should show you to his house before it gets dark.”

Eric freezes.

“She’s not staying in the guest room?”

“We turned that into a sewing room, and Albert’s taking your old room.”

“What about Annabelle’s room?”

“She’s arriving tomorrow for the fair. I thought you’d be happy to host your fiancée in your home.”

He clears his throat. “Of course I am. I’ll change the sheets and?—”

“I changed them when you called to say Emma was coming. Given you’re engaged, well, that’s like marriage in God’s eyes.”

Yes!

I allow an inner squeal while Eric looks lost and helpless. Spending time at his house definitely fits in my master plan.

“Come on, Eric. Let’s wash the dishes,” I tell him, picking up more empty plates. We move in silence at the sink—him washing, me drying. But when I glance out the window, I see the Waters huddling around the table, whispering. My stomach tightens.

“Something’s wrong,” I mutter, accepting another plate from Eric.

“Why do you say that?”

“I don’t think Grandpa Albert believes our act.”

Eric shuts off the water with a decisive twist. A moment later, he dries his hands on a towel and turns toward me.

“Grandpa’s watching now. It’s time to make him believe.”

The air between us crackles as I step closer. His hand finds the small of my back, and my breath catches. I’m not sure who moves first, but when our lips meet, it isn’t just for show—it’s hunger and heat, raw and undeniable.

Eric’s hands are rough yet warm as he cups my face. The world outside the kitchen window blurs, my heart racing as his lips claim mine. His kiss is firm and insistent, leaving no room for doubt.

If this is an act, it’s the most convincing one I’ve ever experienced.

Her mouth is sweet—like honey and roses—and the softness of her lips sends a shiver down my spine. The warmth of her body presses against me, igniting a fire I can’t extinguish. I’m lost in her, forgetting every reason why this kiss shouldn’t be happening. Her small frame fits perfectly in my arms, and my hand instinctively lowers to her ass, memorizing the shape of her curves. When she moans into my mouth, it’s game over. I kiss her like I’ve never kissed a woman in my life, devouring every breath, every sound, and every ounce of her.

Her front presses against my hardening cock, and I dig my fingers deeper into her ass, swallowing the little yelp that escapes her lips. The urge to lift her onto the kitchen counter pulses through me, but before I can act, Molly the cat leaps onto the windowsill with an indignant meow.

Emma jerks back, breaking the kiss, but we’re still clinging to each other, breathless and dazed. Her lips are swollen, and her eyes glaze over with something I shouldn’t name.

What the fuck did I just do?

I’m not supposed to feel this way about Emma. She’s off-limits, and a line I should never cross. But damn it, the taste of her makes me question everything.

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