Page 5 of Duke
“You gotta learn to be okay with losing.” I flex my wrist, muscle memory taking over as I practice my aim. “The more you lose, the closer you get to a win. At least that’s what probability and all the quotes on my Pinterest feed tell me.”
“What the hell is a Pinterest?”
I release the dart. It lands with a dull, barely audiblethudjust outside the bullseye. Twenty-five points.
I turn to smile at Duke. “It’s the place I go to find outfit inspiration and horny book quotes.”
“I see what you’re doing.”
“What’s that?”
“Distracting me with your excellent dart-throwing form and use of the word ‘horny.’ But two can play this game.” His bicep bulges as he lifts the hat off his head and flips it to put it on backward. His eyes lock on mine, shimmering like pavement on a scorching summer day. “Now show me what you can do.”
Laughter, easy and real, bubbles up in the back of my throat. At the same time, my mouth goes dry.
This man is so fucking hot it almost hurts to look at him. I tell myself that’s a good thing, because there’s no chance of him ever wanting me as more than a hookup. He’s the wild child, remember? Which suits me just fine, because I just want to have fun too.
Is fun all I want, though?Why does my center ping with something like pain when I glance across the bar and see Mollie and Cash dancing cheek to cheek to a Brooks & Dunn song?
I throw my second dart. It lands—shit—a centimeter to the left of my intended target. My third ends up dropping pitifully to the floor.
“Now you know how it feels.” Duke bends down to pick up the dart.
I shamelessly check out his Wrangler butt yet again because I am indeed quite horny. “How what feels?”
“To be distracted by your gorgeous opponent.” He grins. My heart plunges to its death somewhere at the base of my spine when he turns and hits a bullseye on his first throw. “Giddyup, cowgirl.”
CHAPTER 2
Hot Damn
Duke
Wheeler’s lips twitch. “But I’m not a cowgirl.”
“You sure as hell act like one.”
“How so?”
“It’s the confidence.” My eyes flick down her body. “And the strong legs.”
“Because you need strong legs for riding?”
Yep, she’s picking up what I’m laying down.
Goddamn, I like her.She smells like summer, some kinda perfume that’s tropical, juicy even, with hints of coconut and sunscreen. Absolutely delicious.
Yeah, I wanna layherdown. That’s a given. But I also wanna get to know this girl. People with new ideas, who do something other than work cattle for a living, are few and far between in these parts.
I’ve dreamed of forging my own path and seeing the world for as long as I can remember. I’m terrified of that world passing me by as I sit in Hartsville and wait for my life to begin. But meeting a person from somewhere else—someone who’s experienced things I haven’t, who knows things I don’t—is a nice reminder that the worldhasn’tpassed me by. I still have time to see and do new things.
“For riding, yes.” I throw another dart. Not a bullseye repeat, but close.
Really, how could I not like Wheeler Rankin? She’s smart as shit. Confident. Well-spoken and witty. She has this way ofincorporating interesting thoughts into flirty conversation that makes my dick perk up.
My dick also likes the way she looks in that skirt and those boots. Hard not to imagine what those pretty legs of hers would feel like wrapped around my hips.
Bet I could make you scream, sweetheart.
