Kimberly Raye - Cody

The proposal had served as a wake-up call. A reminder that time was precious and it was slipping away fast. In two weeks, she would accept Greg’s offer and then they were getting married.

From this day forward.

‘Til death do us part.

It was now or never.

Which was why she’d abandoned her party planning for the annual Sock-Hop scheduled next week at the Senior Center, to pull out her hot pink boots—a high school graduation present from her oldest sister Robin—and make the long drive to Austin. For this one night, she was going to lose her inhibitions and be Restroom Randy.

Cowboy up!

Her gaze zeroed in on the jeans-clad legs striding toward her. Her attention took a slow walk up, over muscular thighs and an impressive crotch, a trim waist and solid torso, broad shoulders and a corded neck, to his face.

Several days’ growth of stubble shadowed his jaw and circled his sensuous mouth. A thin scar zig-zagged its way across one cheek, but it didn’t detract from his looks. If anything, it made him seem more rugged and sexy. Dark hair framed his face and brushed the collar of his shirt. Striking silver eyes fringed in thick black lashes peered at her from beneath the brim of his Stetson.

There was nothing respectable about the molten gleam in his gaze. Heat radiated off his body, pushing and pulling at her, luring her closer when every warning bell in her body clamored for her to turn and run. His lips crooked in the faintest grin that said he knew all of her secrets and he wanted her in spite of them.

Because of them.

Her nipples tightened and her legs quivered and she felt the wetness between her thighs.

He stopped a few inches away. His gaze stripped her bare and a ripple of awareness went up her spine. She’d felt naked back at home when she’d slipped on the skimpy clothes, but it was nothing compared to what she felt now.

Naked. Vulnerable. Hungry.

The last thought struck and a bolt of heat sizzled through her. The chemistry was more potent than anything she’d ever felt, but there was something more, as well. A strange connection that said the attraction went much deeper than the physical.

She stiffened against the ridiculous notion and ignored the endless questions swimming in her head.

What’s your name?

What do you do?

Where are you from?

Are you the real deal?

He was. He wore an air of danger and wildness as comfortably as he wore his form-fitting jeans.

“You can always tell by the boots,” her mother had said time and time again.

Her gaze dropped to the worn toes of a pair of black snakeskin Ropers. Scuffed. Dusty. Lived in. An electrical pulse vibrated along her nerve endings.

“I won them at the Houston Livestock Show and Rodeo.”

Her gaze swiveled back up and collided with his. “Excuse me?”

“The boots. I took first place last year in Houston. They were part of the prize. The name’s Cody Braddock. I’m a bull rider.”

He was a bona fide cowboy, all right.

The last man she would ever take to the Senior Sock Hop. Or the weekly church picnic. Or the Veterans of Foreign Wars Bunko night. Or the Chamber of Commerce Christmas party. Or anything in the tiny town of Skull Creek where she’d spent the past ten years trying to outrun her Restroom Randy reputation.

Which made him the perfect man to take to bed right now.

“Why don’t we get out of here?” she blurted before she did something really stupid. Like ask him which bull he’d been riding and how long he’d been risking his neck and where he’d been all her life.

One orgasm, she reminded herself. Then the damned curiosity that kept her tossing and turning and fantasizing at night—every night—would be satisfied. She would say yes to Greg and abandon her legacy for good.

“That is, if you’re not married,” she added. “You aren’t married, are you?”

“No.”

“You’re sure?”

His grin was slow and wicked and her heart stopped for the next few beats. “That’s not something that a man forgets, is it?”

“That depends on the man.”

His grin faded. “I’m not the marrying kind. Never have been, never will be.”

“How about the one-night-stand kind?”

“Is that what you’re after?”

“Actually, an hour or so should do it.”

His gaze seemed to liquefy, like silver melting and heating. “You don’t want me to buy you a drink first?”

“I’m not much of a drinker.” Her gaze caught and held his and she ignored the sizzle of apprehension that went through her. The small voice that whispered she was about to make a huge, huge mistake because one taste wouldn’t come close to satisfying her craving and killing her curiosity.

Instead, she focused on the heat simmering in her belly and the tightening between her legs. “So what about it? You interested in a little exercise?”

His mouth drew into a thin line and his brow furrowed, and she had the distinct impression that he was going to turn her down even though he’d been the one to approach her.

Disappointment rushed through her, followed by a burst of anxiety that fed her impatience. She hadn’t driven the two hours from Skull Creek to make sure she didn’t run into someone from home just to turn around and head back minus a real climax. She was on a mission. Now or never, a voice whispered.

Now.

Please.

The plea echoed through her head, but she managed to keep it to herself. She’d seen her mother beg and plead too many times the morning after, and every time, Mr. Cowboy had always walked away.

She wouldn’t subject herself to the same humiliation. If this particular cowboy didn’t want her, so be it. No way was she getting hung up on any one man. She would simply move on to the next one in line.

Maybe the guy sitting at the far end of the bar.

She’d scoped him out earlier when she’d first arrived, but she hadn’t had a chance to talk to him. With polished gray boots, he looked more drugstore than the real deal. But at least he wore a Stetson, his jeans and shirt starched within an inch of their life. While he wasn’t her first choice, he would do—

“Let’s go.” Cody’s deep, husky voice shattered her thoughts and drew her attention. Her gaze collided with his and she had the distinct impression he knew exactly what she’d been thinking.

And that he didn’t like it one little bit.

Before she could dwell on the crazy notion, his large hand cupped her elbow and steered her around. He had the oddest touch. His fingers weren’t hot like most men. But they weren’t clammy either. They felt…strong. Purposeful. Determined.

A zing of excitement spiraled through her. Her nipples throbbed. Her thighs shivered.

And then they headed for the nearest exit and what was sure to be the hottest, wildest, most dangerous experience of Miranda’s life.

YEARS OF BULL RIDING had finally shaken some screws loose.

That was the only explanation for the fact that Cody had just accepted Miranda’s offer and told her his real name.

“The name’s Cody Braddock.”

Sweet Jesus. Was he completely nuts?

Hungry, he reminded himself. He was starved and so he wasn’t thinking straight. That explained why he was now leading Miranda outside, through the back parking lot toward his truck when his common sense screamed otherwise.

That, and he’d always been impulsive. A loose cannon. A wild card. That’s what made him so good on the back of a bull. He didn’t waste his time thinking. He simply acted.

No way did his sudden change of heart have anything to do with the fact that he wanted to keep her from propositioning any other man. Particularly the asshole at the end of the bar. The guy had a wife at home that he liked to use for a punching bag.