Total pages in book: 113
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 110113 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 551(@200wpm)___ 440(@250wpm)___ 367(@300wpm)
Sawyer splays his hand on the small of my back. “C’mon, let’s get this champagne off you.”
In the bathroom, Sawyer hangs a pair of fresh towels on the hooks beside the shower. He turns on the showerheads—both of them—waiting until the water is warm before stepping back to hold the door open for me.
“After you.” His dimples pop when he grins.
Surely he’s only this thoughtful—this motivated—because he’s trying to get laid again. Right? Because I don’t think I’ve ever met a man who does nearly as much as Sawyer’s done for me in the past few hours. First the club soda, the towels, and the replacement beers. Then the whole episode in the store downstairs where he took charge and paid for everything. Then the insistence that he make me come first, and the bottled water I didn’t know I needed, and now this—getting the shower ready so I don’t have to lift a finger.
I don’t know why I’m still shocked when Sawyer pulls a Sawyer and immediately starts to lather me up with deliciously scented body wash after we get in the shower. I giggle like a girl when his soapy hands linger on my breasts. I sigh when those hands move lower, gently working my pussy open. I put a hand on the thick ball of his shoulder to steady myself.
“You sore here?” His eyes flicker.
“A little. Nothing bad enough to keep me from going for round two.”
Sawyer arches a brow. Steam curls around him in a kind of hot, hazy halo. “What about rounds three and four?”
“Jesus, you really meant it when you said all night.”
“I mean everything I say.”
“So I’m—oh.” I dig my nails into his shoulder when his slippery fingers glide over my clit. “Learning.”
“You’re so responsive.” His eyes dart between mine. “Like a live wire, always ready.”
Swallowing, I manage to shake my head. “This doesn’t—I’m not like this usually.”
His gaze sharpens, as if he likes the idea that he’s the only one who gets me going this way. “What’s your story, pretty girl?”
I scoff, rolling my eyes as an excuse to look away. I’m not annoyed he keeps prodding, wanting to know more about me. In fact, I kind of like it.
Who am I kidding? I like it a lot. But like I said, this is how the trouble starts. A few innocuous questions, some great sex. Even better conversation. Then boom, suddenly I’m at someone’s mercy again.
Yeah, maybe I’m jumping the gun here. Making some assumptions that probably aren’t true. Really, you can’t get in that deep with someone over the course of one night.
But I’ve learned it’s always better to play it safe.
“My story’s boring.” I turn to pump body wash onto my hands. “I’m more interested in your story. Specifically, the one your body’s about to tell me.”
“You’re not as good as you think you are at changing the topic.” Water hits the crown of Sawyer’s head, ricocheting down his neck and shoulders as he looks me in the eye. “I mean that as a compliment.”
Of course you do, cowboy. Bet this Boy Scout’s never told a lie in his life.
He’s definitely never been divorced. I feel like cowboys are the one-and-done type. In my imagination, their promise to love and honor a woman is real. They respect her by pulling their weight at home, by being real partners who shoulder their fair share of the burden of raising a family.
I’m not sure a man like that actually exists. I have yet to meet one. My girlfriends and I all dealt with the same issue in our marriages, how we felt like we didn’t get nearly enough help from our husbands. I used to joke that I was a single married mom because I did literally everything. The nighttime wake-ups, the cooking, the cleaning, the scheduling. When I got pregnant, I told people I’d left the barrel racing circuit because I was ready to retire. But really, it was because I struggled so mightily to juggle my career and my pregnancy that something had to give.
That something was the job I loved. I was a damn good racer, and I’ve missed it. A lot. It’s one of the many reasons I’m thrilled to have landed this new gig at the Wallace Ranch. I truly can’t wait to start, even if I feel more than a little anxiety. Pardon the pun, but so much is riding on me doing well at the Wallace Ranch. I get child support and alimony from Dan, but it’s not enough to live on. I’m rebuilding my savings and retirement from scratch. This job has to work.
I have to succeed if I want to support myself and my daughter. I have big plans for Junie—college, grad school if she wants—and I need money to make those dreams come true.