Page 18 of Hawt Cowboy
“Don’t start.”
He leans in close enough that his breath stirs a lock of my hair. “You look good, Brooks. Real good.”
I swallow hard, pretending to check my phone. “We should get going.”
We cross the street toward a small artisan shop, drawn in by the flash of jewelry in the window. Cash heads straight for a display of belt buckles while I linger near a glass case filled with hand-tooled bracelets.
One in particular catches my eye — silver with turquoise inlay, shaped like flowing vines. I can already imagine how cool it would feel against my skin.
Cash comes up beside me. “You like that one?”
“It’s beautiful,” I admit. “But completely impractical.”
He waves the shopkeeper over. “We’ll take it.”
I whirl on him. “No, you won’t. You already let that sponsor shower me with half the store.”
“Didn’t cost me a dime,” he says. “This one does, and that’s fine by me.”
“Cash …”
“Savvy,” he interrupts, his voice soft but steady. “Please, let me do this.”
Something in the way he says it — low, certain, gentle — stills the argument on my tongue.
The shopkeeper boxes the bracelet carefully, handing it to me with a smile. Cash pays, pocketing the receipt like it’s nothing.
“May I?” he asks, gesturing at the box.
“Sure, you paid for it,” I say, handing it to him.
Cash opens the box, removing the bracelet and slips it around my wrist. “Now that’s exactly what you needed to top everything off. Don’t you think?” he asks, looking me straight in the eyes.
I can feel myself blushing, the heat rising in me from his touch. He’s waiting for a response and I open my mouth, but nothing comes out for a second. Finally, I simply say, “Thank you. I love it.”
And he smiles — not his sarcasm look, but a real big, genuine smile.
Outside, the sun flares hot, the air thick. I glance down at the bracelet glittering on my wrist and shake my head.
“You’re impossible,” I tell him.
“Yeah,” he says, grinning as he opens the door for me. “But admit it — you’re starting to like impossible.”
I slide into the seat, trying not to smile. “Not a chance.”
But when he shuts my door and rounds the hood, I can’t stop looking at the bracelet, or wondering what it means that he saw me looking at it — and felt compelled to buy it for me.
Chapter 14
Cash
If there’s one thing I’ve learned about Savannah Brooks, it’s that she has no idea how good she looks when she’s tryin’ not to.
We pull into the sponsor pavilion parking lot just before noon, and she’s dressed in that white blouse with turquoise stitching, her new boots catching sunlight every time she walks. Hair loose. Bracelet glinting on her wrist.
She’s talking to the event coordinator, all business, but I can’t hear a word.
“Dalton!” someone hollers. “Good to see you, man!”
