Page 33 of A Montana Fake Marriage

“I’ve never handled a gun before,” she murmured, turning her eyes back to the bottles.

“I can tell,” he chuckled, earning himself one of those trademark Sammie looks. “Maybe we’ll have to let you practice with the ones we have back home. Though I have to warn you, it’s not the same as this one by a long shot.”

She smiled. “I’d like that.”

In the end, she’d knocked five of the six bottles from the stand and earned herself a stuffed horse. She hugged the animal to her chest gleefully as they made their way to another game.

His hand lingered at her waist. He told himself it was to keep her close, but if he were honest with himself, he might have admitted that he was doing it solely because he craved her touch.

Sammie stopped first. She pointed to a game that required the players to lasso a bull’s head. It seemed simple, but there was technique involved. Swinging the rope, keeping the loop open, and having the perfect aim are imperative to success. It takes practice and training to get good at lassoing.

A young cowboy trying to impress his date paid and got his rope. He positioned himself just as buzzer rang out and the platform where five bulls’ heads sat started rotating. A bright timer with red numbers counted down. He had ninety seconds to rope a steer, or he lost.

While Sammie watched the cowboy, Caleb watched her. The way she stared with that enthralled look almost made him jealous.

Almost.

He moved to the person in charge and paid to go next. He’d show Sammie how it was done.

The cowboy had three shots. And each time, the rope bounced off a piece of the bust he was attempting to lasso. Caleb chuckled to himself when the man walked away, an embarrassed grin on his face. Then Caleb moved forward.

Sammie stared at him with surprise then grinned broadly. “Are you any good? I don’t think I’ve seen you ever lasso anything at home.”

He shrugged. Truth was, he’d been a natural. He’d mastered the task when he was a kid. It was one of the only things that made him want to go into ranching—and a big reason he’d gotten his degree in Animal Science.

Holding the rope loosely in his hand, he fingered the rough texture to get a feel for how it would behave. Then he nodded to the guy in charge, and the buzzer went off. Slowly at first, he swiveled the rope around and around. Then, when he had the momentum he wanted, he tossed the rope.

It pinged off the nose of one bull and fell to the ground.

Sammie bit back a smile.

“I might be a little rusty,” he admitted.

“Uh-huh, sure.” She moved closer and leaned forward. “You get this next one, and maybe you’ll get a kiss.”

He froze. The blatant flirtatious statement had him absolutely reeling. His heart thundered, and he stared at her with wide eyes. Was she being serious? Had he missed some clue as to her feelings? Throat dry, Caleb set his sights on the bulls again. The buzzer sounded, and he tossed the rope. This time, it landed around a horn but slipped off as the platform continued its rotation.

Sammie smirked, and he could feel the beads of sweat on his brow.

He did his own version of breathing exercises. He exhaled much like he’d told her to do at the shooting game, then set his focus on the bull he wanted to wrangle. The second he released the rope, he held his breath, then watched with pure excitement as the rope landed around the bull’s neck.

A couple of people around him clapped. Sammie let out a whoop. But he still couldn’t breathe. He still stared at the bull for a moment before dragging his eyes to Sammie. She flung one arm around his neck and pressed a loud kiss to his cheek.

“Good to see that you haven’t lost your talent,” Noah nudged him.

Caleb whirled to see his youngest brother standing close. How had he missed him? His eyes slid to Sammie, and a thought wriggled its way into his mind.

Had she been flirting with him for his brother’s benefit?

He could still feel her kiss, hot against his cheek. She’d bestowed it so suddenly, he hadn’t had a chance to turn his head to capture her lips with his own.

Disappointment was just as hot and uncomfortable in his chest, but he offered his brother a smirk in hopes of dispelling it. “I’d like to see you do any better.”

Noah snorted. “I know better than to play that game. It’s rigged.”

“Obviously not,” Sammie gushed. “Caleb proved it can be done.” She’d moved beside him, her arm around his back, fingers pressed against his shirt. Her closeness, the way she’d whispered her promise to him, all of it had his teeth on edge.

The line between what was real and what wasn’t quickly blurred and morphed into something he didn’t recognize.

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