Page 10 of Hot Ice, Tennessee

He was a hot cowboy, and he knew it. Mason seemed like he’d been ready to drag me in the bathroom and beg for my cock, but since he found out I was Kane’s younger brother he’d been looking at me like I was damaged goods.

Kind of true, I guess.

I was pretty sure he only followed me onto the patio because he felt bad for me being alone. Extroverts don’t tend to realize that introverts like a little solitude. But I could have lone-wolfed itallday.

Not that I hated cowboy eye candy.

He watched me play, arms crossed, keeping his distance. In between rounds of pinball I glanced up at him, surprised he hadn’t left yet. The outdoor string lights lit up his sandy-colored hair like a warm halo. The sleeves of his flannel were rolled up to reveal fit, tanned forearms, and his facial hair was groomed neat, just long enough that it would probably feel soft against the skin.

“You from around here?” I asked.

That was another thing extroverts liked: talking about themselves. I would have been fine with silence, but the more I looked at him, the more I started wondering how it might feel to push my fingers past his pretty lips, and I wasn’t exactly sure he was ready for that yet.

So… small talk, it was.

“Born and raised in Bestens, Tennessee,” Mason said.

“I could tell.”

He glared at me. “Don’t know what that’s supposed to mean.”

“Chill. It’s a compliment, cowboy,” I said, glancing up at him. “You look strong.”

He still didn’t budge, arms crossed. “Kind of necessary for running a ranch.”

“I knew it. I was betting you might be a farmer, but ranch hand makes even more sense.”

“My parents started Minton Ranch right before I was born,” he said. “Mom died soon after that, though, so it was mostly just me and Dad. Teaching riding, mostly.”

“Horses are a lot of work.”

He nodded. Finally, he uncrossed his arms, leaning forward on the pinball machine. “They’re the best kind of work, though.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. Rain was still falling in rivulets off of every corner of the patio roof, and nobody else was out on the patio now. But other than the occasional misty breeze, the area by the pinball machines was up against the building, far away from the rain.

I was completely fuckin’ fine with an empty patio. Crowded bars weren’t my thing, but tonight I’d needed to be somewhere other than my frat house.

Maybe full lone-wolf mode wouldn’t have been good tonight, though. Earlier, Mason had reached through a cloud of fog and plucked me right out of my own little mental hell, where I’d been spiraling on how angry I was at my ex. I’d been out of it, only half-here, and Mason coming up to talk to me had jolted me back to reality. Kane had suggested that I come into his bar to help clear my head, but…

Instead, I’d just ended up pissed off at Elliot in a bar instead of being pissed off at home.

Mason had been the perfect distraction from that.

Even if he was shooting blue daggers at me with his eyes, now.

“If a hockey puck’s a Hostess cake, what is a pinball?” I asked him. “A… silver little grape?”

He snorted. “Maybe a little chocolate truffle, dusted in silver.”

“Delicious.”

With another thwack of my fingers, I shot the ball up into the highest hole, and the whole top of the machine lit up.

“Your turn,” I told him, smacking the top of the plexiglass cover.

“I’m going to go get another drink first.”

“You’re going to come back out here, right? I want to watch you play.”

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