Page 11 of Hawt Cowboy
No bra, bare legs, that sleepy look in her eyes. Hell, I’m lucky I remembered my own name long enough to hand her that coffee. Now I can’t get the picture out of my head.
The motel door opens and there she is again, business armor back in place—tan slacks, fitted blouse, tablet in hand, hair pulled tight enough to warn off anyone stupid enough to test her patience.
She stops when she sees me smirking. “What?”
“Nothing. Just amazed how fast you turn from off-duty to all-business. Like watching Clark Kent put the glasses back on.”
She arches a brow. “Glad you’re entertained. Let’s hope your sponsors are too. Let’s take my car.”
She climbs behind the wheel, and I slide into the passenger seat. She drives like she argues … focused with no wasted motion.
“Stop staring,” she says.
“Wasn’t staring.”
“Sure you were.”
I grin. “You always this fun before nine a.m.?”
“Only when babysitting cowboys who think rules are optional.”
We drive in silence for a few miles, the countryside rolling by in waves of green and gold. My hangover-free brain actually feels good for once, and I figure I owe her for that.
“Hey,” I say after a beat. “You did good last night.”
She glances over, suspicious. “Good?”
“Yeah. You handled yourself. Me, too. Nobody got in a fight, no bad headlines. That’s a win.”
Her lips twitch. “You sound surprised.”
“I’m not surprised,” I say. “Just impressed.”
“Don’t start,” she warns.
I chuckle. “I’m serious, Brooks. You got grit. Most handlers just yell louder. You stand your ground.”
That earns me a look of half disbelief, half reluctant appreciation. “Is that your version of a compliment?”
“Maybe.” I shrug. “Don’t get used to it.”
She shakes her head, but there’s a ghost of a smile she can’t hide.
We hit the edge of town, the sponsor banners already fluttering outside the rodeo grounds. A few fans wave as we roll past. Cameras, phones are all aimed at me.
Savannah parks, straightens her blouse, and looks over like she’s bracing for battle.
“Remember the plan: smiles, small talk, no off-the-cuff remarks. You’re representing brands today, not making a big commotion.”
I push open the door, giving her a slow grin. “What if I do both?”
She sighs. “God help me.”
I lean in, close enough for her to catch the edge of my smirk. “You look good when you worry about me.”
She stares, speechless for half a second before recovering. “Get out, Dalton.”
I laugh, stepping into the sunlight, feeling that same itch in my chest I can’t shake … the one that tells me I’m not just teasing her anymore.
