Total pages in book: 27
Estimated words: 24601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 24601 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 123(@200wpm)___ 98(@250wpm)___ 82(@300wpm)
"What's your name?" he asks.
I bite my lip, not quite dumb enough to give him that. The sheriff is already looking for me. If I give him my name, it'll only add charges to my list. There are enough of those already, thank you very much.
His expression softens with amusement, his lips curving slightly. "You're going to be stubborn, aren't you, baby?"
"Me? No," I say. It's a lie. I'm probably about to be very stubborn.
"We can do this the easy way or the hard way," he says, his smile growing. "It's up to you."
"What's the hard way?"
Please don't say call the sheriff.
Please don't say call the sheriff.
Please don't—
"I can get the sheriff out here to get your name out of you."
Dammit.
"What's the other option?"
"You tell me your name and why you're sleeping with Jon."
"Jon?" I blink at him, a little offended by the assumption. "I did not sleep with anyone named Jon!"
He tilts his chin toward the horse, which is still occupied with the salt lick. "That's Jon."
"Oh." I swallow, then focus on the important part. "You named your horse Jon?"
"Jon Bon Pony."
I stare at him levelly for a moment, but he isn't kidding. "Can you pinch me, please?"
"What the fuck?" His brows furrow. "Why would I pinch you?"
"Because I'm pretty sure I'm either still sleeping and this is some weird I-slept-in-a-horse-stall dream, or I cracked my head when I fell and this is the concussion talking." I motion toward him. "My brain is broken or asleep. It's the only explanation for a cowboy who looks like sex on legs naming his horse Jon Bon Pony."
His smirk basically confirms my theory. There's no way something that damn sexy is reality, not my reality anyway. He's make-believe. I've conjured up a hot cowboy who wants to turn me in to the sheriff. Awesome.
"Sex on legs, huh?" His smirk widens. "I can work with that, baby."
Work with it? Didn't he hear me? I have a head injury. He isn't even real. And I'm not entirely sure if I'm relieved by this turn of events or not. Part of me wants him to be real. The rest is just glad a figment of my imagination can't take me to real jail.
"Come on," he says, wrapping one big hand around my wrist.
I dig my heels in. Figment or not, I'm not going anywhere with him. No way. "Let me go! I'm not going anywhere with you."
"Figured you'd say that." He grins at me, and then, to my horror, he bends at the waist. In two seconds flat, I'm over his shoulder like a sack of feed, my hair in my face, my legs dangling.
This is the worst concussion ever.
Chapter Two
Blaze
"Put me down right now!" the pretty little blonde with hay in her hair squeals, pounding on my back hard enough to make my dick throb. She flails her legs, trying to kick me, but I've been wrangling cattle for years. Containing this pretty little thing is a breeze in comparison.
"No can do, Calamity Jane," I rumble, striding out of the barn with her still kicking up a fuss.
Wade Jessup is filling buckets near the corral and glances up, his brows furrowed. "What the fuck?" he calls. "I thought you were going to saddle Jon."
"Something came up," I mutter, striding toward the cabin I share with Bishop, my hand planted on her perfect, plump ass. "Can you send your brother, Flint, and Gunner to my place?"
"Uh…yeah," he says, staring at me like he doesn't know what the fuck is going on. Frankly, that makes two of us. The last thing I expected to find in the barn this morning was a goddess with hay in her blonde hair, dust on her porcelain cheeks, and the kind of round little body a man like me could happily drown in.
She's fucking beautiful, so much so that I can't even think about that right now. If I do, I'll think about the way her plush curves feel beneath my hands, about how soft and round she is in all the right places, and about how fucking sweet she smells, even with the scents of the barn clinging to her.
Goddammit.
"This is kidnapping!" she cries, slapping me in the back of the head as I stride toward my place on the far side of the ranch. "It's illegal! Help! I've been kidnapped!"
"You snuck onto our property and slept in our barn," I remind her, grinning like a madman. Whoever this chick is, she's a wild one. That probably shouldn't have me hard enough to pound nails, but if my cock gets any harder, I'll be walking funny. "If I go to jail for kidnapping, you're going too, Calamity."
"That's not my name," she huffs.
Maybe not, but I can already tell that it suits her to a fucking tee. And since she won't tell me who she is, it's just going to have to do for now.