Kimberly Raye - Texas Outlaws - Billy

No, what she really wanted was to stay right here and snuggle down into the warmth wrapped around her.

All the more reason to get up.

The last thing she needed was to fall asleep and risk an awkward morning after. While she’d fallen out of practice thanks to her change of heart, she’d still had enough one-night stands to know that she didn’t want to get stuck facing Billy Chisholm the morning after.

She had no doubt he would tell her thanks and hit the road faster than she could blink. He’d made his intentions crystal clear, and so had she. She didn’t want more. At least, not from him.

Now if he’d been any other man...

Maybe a bank executive or a photojournalist or anyone but a Stetson-wearing bull rider. Then she might have thought about getting to know him.

But she already knew more than enough.

Billy Chisholm wasn’t her type.

She knew that, but with him so close, the scent of sexy male filling her head, she had the gut feeling that she wouldn’t be all that happy to see him go.

The thought struck and she gave herself a mental kick. She didn’t have to think about him walking out because she intended to walk out first.

Soon.

At the same time, it had been such a long day and she really was worn out. Exhausted. Might as well take advantage of the warmth and close her eyes for just a few seconds. A cat nap.

Then she was up and out of there.

Guaranteed.

5

“WHERE THE HELL are you?” Livi’s frantic voice carried over the line the minute Sabrina answered her cell phone. “You’re not hurt, are you? Oh, crap, you’re not dead, are you?”

“Yes, and I’m speaking to you from the hereafter.”

“Very funny. Seriously, I all but freaked when I woke up this morning and realized you hadn’t come back to the motel room.”

“Morning?” Sabrina blinked against the blinding light pouring through the open curtains, and panic seeped through her. It was morning.

She’d slept with Billy Chisholm.

Slept slept.

There’d been no creeping out before dawn. No “Thanks, but gotta go.” Or “I really appreciated it, but have a nice life.” No, she’d snuggled right up next to him and closed her eyes and now the sun was up and she was late.

“So?” Livi’s voice pushed past the panic beating at her senses. “How was it?”

“How was what?” She glanced at the clock on the nightstand. It was eight-thirty in the morning. Not only had she fallen asleep, but she’d slept past her usual 7:00 a.m. And all because of a man.

A cowboy.

“Did you get lucky?”

More like unlucky. Of all the available men in town—the reporters and the out-of-town fans—she’d hooked up and fallen asleep with a homegrown, certified, grade A cowboy.

“Well?” Livi prompted.

“I really need to go.”

A thought seemed to strike and her friend’s voice rose an octave. “You’re not still with him, are you?”

Was she?

Her gaze ping-ponged around the room, looking for boots or clothes or something before stalling on the open bathroom door. She strained her ears for some sound, but there was no water running. No footsteps. Just the distant sound of a vacuum cleaner humming from a few rooms down.

“Of course not.” She ignored the disappointment that niggled at her, pushed the blankets to the side and scrambled from the bed. She grabbed her undies, which lay on the floor a few feet away. “I’ll meet you in a few minutes. Where are you?”

“The diner next door to the motel, remember? That’s where we agreed to meet.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“Cowboys have to eat, right?” Livi went on. “Plus, they’ve got the best coffee in town and you know how I need my coffee. Lots of coffee.”

“Save a few cups for me. I’ll be there in ten.”

She spent the next few minutes plucking her clothes up off the floor and damning herself for forgetting the all-important fact that she’d agreed to a one-night stand only. The key word being night. She’d had every intention of being the first one to hit the road after the deed had been done, the first one saying goodbye, walking out, calling the shots.

She certainly hadn’t meant to close her eyes. To get too comfortable. To forget for even a split second that cowboy Billy was not the morning-after type and that, even more, neither was she.

Luckily that all-important fact hadn’t slipped his mind.

She spared a quick glance around the room. There was no suitcase. No personal items scattered across the dresser. No clothes hanging in the closet. And definitely no note. He’d taken everything with him as if he meant to never come back.

And the problem is?

No problem. Sure, she preferred being the one out the door first, but at least he’d had the good sense not to linger and make things that much more awkward.

Anxiety pushed her that much faster and she pulled on her clothes quickly. She was getting out of here now, and she wasn’t going to think that maybe, just maybe, it might have been nice if he’d at least said goodbye.

Forget worrying over one measly cowboy. She had one hundred and fifty-two to think about.

Slipping out of the motel room, she ignored the knowing smile on the maid’s face as she rushed down the walkway and rounded the corner toward her own room. A quick shower and change, and she would hit the soda machine next to the ice maker before the diner. She wasn’t facing Livi and a room full of Stetsons until she’d calmed down completely. To do that, she needed sugar. Lots of sugar.

A soda. Maybe a bag of M&Ms.

Forget a fully stocked minibar for the source. The Lost Gun Motel was like any other small-town inn she’d ever known.

That meant vending machines instead of minibars. Homegrown soda fountains and pharmacies instead of McDonald’s or a CVS. A family-owned general store instead of the brand-name, big-box type.

Sure enough, she rounded another corner and spotted an old Coke machine stuffed with glass-bottled sodas. A crate sat next to the rusted-out monster, the slots half filled with empties.

Her gaze snagged on an Orange Crush and she could practically taste the sugary sweetness on her tongue. As if it had been just yesterday that she’d given up her favorite drink, instead of eight years. The day she’d turned eighteen and left town in her granddaddy’s ancient Bonneville.

She’d never looked back since.

She’d never wanted to.

The soda had been just as bad for her as the small-minded hometown where she’d grown up, and so giving it up had been a no-brainer. She’d switched to lattes and bright lights and a great big city full of zillions of people who didn’t know what a big pile of unreliability her father had been. There were no knowing looks when she walked into the corner drugstore. No one gossiping behind her back when she went into the nearest Starbucks. In L.A. she was just one of the masses, and she liked it that way. She liked her privacy.

Which was why she’d stayed away from home all these years.

Since her mother had dropped the bomb that she was getting married—again—to a local wrangler from one of the nearby ranches, despite the fact that she’d walked that road once before. Arlene had obviously learned nothing the first time with Sabrina’s father. He’d been a ranch hand. Worth his salt when it came to horses, but worthless when it came to being a good husband and father. He’d cheated on her for years before finally running off with a barmaid from the local honky-tonk when Sabrina had been thirteen.

Her mother had been devastated. She’d cried for months, then she’d spent the next few years telling herself that he was coming back, that it was just temporary. Eventually, she’d faced the truth. Not that it had done any good. She’d turned around and hooked up with loser number two. Different time. Different man. Same story.