Swift and Saddled: A Rebel Blue Ranch Novel

I looked at the time: 10:32 p.m. A couple of hours had passed since I arrived at the bar. I was meeting Weston at nine-thirty, so I really needed to get back to my motel soon. I started back in on my work, making sure I wasn’t missing any important files or information that I needed to review with Weston tomorrow.

Once I got into a groove, it was easier not to think about the cowboy sitting at the bar, but I couldn’t shake the thought entirely. Every time I looked up, his eyes were on me. Again and again we made eye contact for a second too long, and then I would get back to work.

It was a seemingly harmless cycle, but it was getting me all keyed up.

I didn’t quite know why, but I was…drawn to him. The way he joked with the bartender, the old men at the bar occasionally slapping him on the back, and how he kept one hand on his dog—all made me wonder who this man was and what he was like in the light of day.

I was curious.

That’s why I did it.

At least that’s what I would tell myself later.

I got to my stopping point in my work, gathered up my stuff, and slid it into my tote bag. I didn’t need to look up to know that his eyes were on me, but I looked up anyway—just as he took a swig of his beer.

We stared at each other again as I stood up. His eyes followed me, and I hoped that his body would too. I had no idea what came over me, but I didn’t want to fight it.

I broke eye contact when I got closer to the door, but as I walked, I could feel his eyes on my back. Instead of walking out the door, I turned down the hallway right before it.

Ada, what the fuck are you doing?

Are you actually inviting a stranger to follow you down a dark hallway in a dingy dive bar? Is that what you’re doing?

Yeah, that’s what I was doing.

I stopped when I reached a door halfway down the hall and leaned against it. Waiting to see if he would come to me.

He did.

His shadow appeared in the entry to the hall, and my heart kicked at my rib cage like it was trying to escape.

I could feel his footsteps as he approached me, because as he was coming toward me, the world that I knew was shaking and crumbling to make way for him.

For something new.

He stopped a few steps from me, and his green eyes cut through the dark. They were heated as they drank me in—but also concerned, maybe?

That made two of us.

“You okay?” the stranger asked, not letting me break his gaze. He was close now, so I had to crane my neck to look at him. I stepped toward him and nodded. I didn’t trust my voice. It would give me away. It would tell him that I wasn’t okay and whatever this trance was that both of us were in would snap.

I didn’t want that. I wanted something new.

I wanted him—the man who looked at me like I was worth looking at.

“Are you sure—” I cut him off when I fisted my hands in his shirt, pushed up on my toes, and hauled his mouth down to mine.

He was still, stunned, but only for a second before he brought one hand up to cup my face and the other to twist in my hair.

Yes, I thought. I need this. His hand against my face was rough, just as I thought it would be, but he was soft—like he was savoring this.

My mouth moved against his, and he dragged the hand that was against my face down the side of my body to grip my hip. His hand left a trail of electricity behind. It was like I could feel the air crackling all around me.

I needed to be closer to him.

I dropped my bag and wrapped my hands around his neck just as he pushed me back against the door with a delicious amount of force. I thought my head was going to knock against the door, but the hand that was in my hair cupped the back of my head, making sure I didn’t hit it. Then he used that hand to grip both of my hands and pin them above my head.

Our bodies were flushed and our tongues tangled. When he gently nipped at my bottom lip, I couldn’t help but moan and hope that the sound was drowned out by the jukebox.

His other hand traveled from my hip to my ass, and he slid his hand into the back pocket of my jeans. “Is this okay?” he asked against my mouth.

“More,” I breathed. He gripped my ass. Hard.

“Fuck, who are you and what are you doing to me?” he groaned. My hips rolled involuntarily, needing more, and I could feel his hard dick under his jeans. When was the last time I’d turned someone on? When was the last time I’d been turned on?

A loud cough came from the end of the hallway, and both of us froze. I looked up at the cowboy, who kept his eyes on me before dropping my hands and turning to address our intruder.

“I need to get into my office—if you don’t mind.” It was Brooks. The bartender. He sounded like he was smiling, but I didn’t look at him to confirm. My cheeks were hot, and I wanted to crawl under a rock and never come out.

This was so stupid. I was so stupid.

I always did this. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t totally get rid of that part of me that thrived on rash, impulsive decisions. Impulsive decisions themselves weren’t the problem. I’m sure some people made great ones, but I wasn’t one of them. When I made an impulsive decision, I usually ended up paying for it for a while to come—my failed marriage being the prime example of this Adanomenon.

“But you guys are welcome to continue against the other wall,” the bartender continued. Oh god. This was so embarrassing. I couldn’t take it.

So I did what I’d come to Wyoming to do.

I ran.