Jennifer Faye - Rancher to the Rescue

Then there was her waist. She wasn’t skinny, but still none of his pants would even come close to fitting. Not even if they were cinched up with a belt. No, he’d have to think of something else.

Cash rummaged through his closet but found nothing suitable. Then he started sorting through his chest of drawers. He made sure to dig to the bottom, hoping to find something he’d forgotten about. He couldn’t believe he was doing all of this for a woman who was obviously still in love with what’s-his-face. Cash’s hands clenched tight around the T-shirt he’d been holding.

So, if she still loved this guy, why had she run out of the church? He was tired of contemplating that question—he resolved to try again and ask her straight up what had happened. Get it out in the open. Once he understood he’d…he’d give her advice—you know, from a guy’s perspective.

With a plan in mind, he grabbed a pair of drawstring shorts and a T-shirt. He knew she’d swim in them but it was the best he could do.

He returned to the guestroom and found the door shut. he rapped his knuckles against the wood. “Meg?” He waited a few seconds. Nothing. “Meg? It’s me.”

He didn’t hear anything. Guessing she’d opted for a shower, he decided to leave the clothes on the bed before heading down to the kitchen to scrounge up some food.

With a twist of the doorknob he swung the door open and stepped inside. His gaze landed on Meg sprawled over the bed and he came to an abrupt halt. What in the world?

She was lying on her stomach in nothing more than white thigh-high stockings, a garter belt and lacy bikini panties that barely covered her creamy backside…

He swallowed hard and blinked. The sexy vision was still there. He shouldn’t be here, but his feet refused to cooperate.

A soft sigh escaped her lips, snapping him from the trance. He dropped the clothes on the cedar chest at the end of the bed and hightailed it out of the room. The image of her draped over the bed would forever be tattooed on his memory.

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