A deal with a sexy cowboy devil...

The wallflower, and the least “pretty,” of the five Ozark sisters, Ashley desperately wants out of this one-limping-horse town. Determined to prove to her bestie that she’s not the same old Plain Jane she was in high school, Ashley tells the biggest, fattest lie ever. She has a boyfriend, and it’s bull rider Colton Cross—overconfident, sexist and irritatingly sexy cowboy extraordinaire.

Colton’s willing to go along with Ashley’s lie—for a price. Because after a few mind-meltingly hot kisses with Ashley, Colton’s figured out there’s a sexy side to Ashley Ozark that no one ever suspected. As each “payment” becomes naughtier than the last, Colton and Ashley discover just how far one little lie can go...one wild, wicked encounter at a time.

“There’s only one reason a woman wants a fake boyfriend...”

“To make her friends jealous.” Colton waited a half second, his eyes glued to Ashley’s. When she didn’t move, didn’t shove, didn’t object in any way, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

This was not the kiss she’d expected.

This was slow. Leisurely. Like he enjoyed getting to know her mouth. Like he wanted to explore her lips, the inside and outside of them. Not to mention deep inside her mouth. His big hand cupped the back of her head and he tilted her—gently—one way and then the other, as he slanted his mouth over hers. When he finally pulled away, she was left, lips parted, panting.

“That ought to do it.”

She blinked once, twice, three times before coming back to herself, suddenly cluing in to the fact that the whistles and catcalls were because of the show they’d put on.

Oh, shit.

What had she done?

Dear Reader,

Have you ever done something completely out of character? Acted (or reacted) spontaneously in a moment of passion, fear, joy or anger? What was the repercussion of that act? Did it turn out okay? Did you regret it? Did it take you down a path you never thought you’d ever take?

Personally, I’ve never done anything out of character...

Yeah, right! Of course I have. Everyone has. For example, there was this scuba instructor I met while vacationing in the Philippines... What should have been a simple holiday fling turned into me moving to Berlin with him on a whim... Ahem. Crazy, right?

Did it work out in the end? No. Do I regret it? Nope. Not one bit, because while we weren’t a forever match, I learned so much about myself through that relationship.

In Wild Seduction, Ashley Ozark does something in the spur of the moment, too, something wild and crazy, something completely out of character. Does she regret it? You bet. At least at first because accidentally making out with the least likely man possible and pretending he’s her boyfriend challenges everything she believes about herself, her hometown and the type of man she wants as a lover. Does her impulsive act turn out okay? Well, you’re just going to have to read to find out!

On that note, I hope you enjoy Wild Seduction and fall in love with Colton Cross as much as Ashley does—even if she doesn’t want to. I love to hear from readers, and I would love to hear some of your stories. Just drop me a line to say hi at dairestdenis@dairestdenis.com.

Happy reading!

Daire St. Denis

Wild Seduction

Daire St. Denis

www.millsandboon.co.uk

New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling author DAIRE ST. DENIS is an adventure seeker, an ancient history addict, a seasonal hermit and a wine lover. She calls the Canadian Rockies home and has the best job ever: writing smoking-hot contemporary romance where the pages are steeped in sensuality and there’s always a dash of the unexpected. Find out more about Daire and subscribe to her newsletter at dairestdenis.com.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

Dear Reader

Title Page

About the Author

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Extract

Copyright

1

EVERYTHING LOOKED BETTER behind the lens of a camera. Ashley Ozark focused on a group at the end of the bar, and the shutter of her Canon EOS 5D Mark III made a delightful swish as she captured a head thrown back in laughter, a sardonic look from a friend, another face shadowed by a cowboy hat and a fourth wiping his brow. She smiled, happy with the result of the image, a conversation between friends and rivals, so intimate she almost felt like she’d overheard it.

She knew those men, rodeo boys, probably egging each other on, making bets, relieving tension before the county fair and rodeo this weekend.

A sharp-nailed, rat-a-tat-tat, on the top of her head made her lower the camera.

“Ouch.”

Her older sister, Beth, stood to her side. “You’re supposed to be helping bartend tonight. Not spending the entire time behind that camera.”

“I’ve been hired to take pictures by the County Fair Committee. I’m just doing my job here.”

“Yes, and you’ve also been hired to tend bar tonight.” She indicated the long line of patrons waiting to be served. “By our father, I might add, who is also on the Fair Committee.”

“Okay, okay.” Ashley sighed, tucking the camera away into its bag and storing it under the counter. “I got some great candids in here.”

“I’m sure you did.” Beth tossed an apron at her head, but Ash caught it before it hit her face. “Now put that on and get to work.”

“Tyrant,” she muttered.

“You got that right.”

“Bully.”

“Exactly. Now get to work before I kick your ass.”

“Like you could.”

With a grin, Ashley tied the apron around her waist and lifted her chin at the next person in line, indicating she was ready to take their order. While she helped out at the bar on the odd occasion because the Prospector Saloon in the Gold Dust Hotel was owned by her family, it really wasn’t her scene. She preferred her quiet job at the flower shop, Heart’s Bouquet, down the street. However, during the county fair it was a given—all hands on deck. That meant all five of the Ozark girls were required to help: she and Beth behind the bar, Brandi on the floor and the twins, Zoe and Chloe, in the kitchen. This year it was even more imperative because it was Half Moon High’s Centennial celebration, so they expected more out-of-towners than normal. Based on the crowd tonight, it was an accurate assumption.

Ashley was happy to help. It meant extra dough, both working at the saloon and taking pictures, and every penny she made was going toward her Get-the-hell-out-of-Half-Moon Fund. So she plastered on a smile and kept the cold ones coming. Already the bar was standing room only, even though the festivities didn’t officially start until tomorrow. The din from people talking and laughing was so loud, it drowned out the sound of the band. That was until her sister Brandi got up on stage between songs and grabbed the mic.

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” she bellowed and yet still managed to sound sultry in a way that only Brandi could with her practiced, husky voice.

People stopped talking and heads turned—or at least, every male head turned, like a flock of sheep.

Baaaaa.

“For those who are visiting, welcome back to Half Moon Creek. We’re so pleased you were able to come to the rodeo and fair this year and to celebrate Half Moon High’s Centennial Celebration. We’ll be kicking everything off Friday morning—Oh, my God! That’s tomorrow, already—with a parade followed by the rodeo and opening of the fair grounds. Don’t forget to pick up tickets for Saturday’s big formal banquet. Tickets are still available at the front desk and...”

“Sweetheart?” came a voice from her left. “A little help here. I’ve been waiting for fifteen minutes and...”

Ashley spun toward the deep voice. She turned up the volume on her smile when she saw who it was. Colton Cross. Figured. The cocky, bull-riding cowboy was exactly the kind of person who would think it was okay—no, not okay—he probably figured she’d be flattered by him calling her sweetheart.

“Well now, honey baby. What can I get for my sugar pie?”

“What?” Colton mouthed the words sugar pie with a look of confusion on his unfortunately handsome features.

“Oh. I’m sorry, sweetie, aren’t we on a ‘terms of endearment’ basis?”

“Umm...” Colton’s brows drew together so close they formed one line across his forehead. “Ahh...whatever you say, darlin’. Can I get two pints of Beaverhead draft and an order of nachos—”

“You did not,” Ashley said, leaning across the bar. This was exactly why she couldn’t wait to leave Half Moon. Macho rodeo jerks like Colton Cross.

“I did not, what?” He asked slowly.

She rolled her eyes. “Call me darlin’—”

Oomph.

Beth elbowed Ashley out of the way.

“Hey, Colt,” Ashley’s oldest sister said with a genuine smile, while inconspicuously giving Ashley a side kick to the butt. “Don’t mind my sister. She’s weird.”

“She’s your sister?” Colton said, looking back and forth between Beth and Ashley and then glancing over his shoulder at Brandi who was still on stage talking animatedly about some of the highlights of the weekend.

“There are two more of us hiding out around here, somewhere.” Beth gave a vague wave toward the kitchen. “Five Ozark girls in total.”

“Wow. I did not know you two were sisters.” He glanced at Ashley again, who was openly scowling at him because, seriously, the fact that Colton Cross had no idea who she was only confirmed her opinion of him: self-centered, chauvinistic, thickheaded...oh, she could go on. Egomaniac, cocky, disgustingly good-looking...

“Didn’t you two go to grade school together before you moved?” Beth asked.

“Yep.” Ashley said the word, short and clipped, giving him the coldest look she could muster. By the way he tilted his head to one side and then the other as he gave her a quick once over, she knew he had no recollection of her. Zip. No memory of Valentine’s Day in fifth grade when she’d gone and made him a special Valentine and he’d repaid her by spitting in her hair later that day in the playground. Didn’t matter that her family had known his family for years or that ever since he’d returned to Half Moon a few months ago to help his brother out at his guest ranch, he’d been the talk of the town. Well, the talk of the female population, anyway.

“Oh yeah,” Colton said slowly, covering up the fact he couldn’t place her. “Nice to see you again... Bren-da, right?”

Nice try, hotshot. “It’s Ashley.”

“Right. Now I remember.”

As if.

She poured the beer and slid the frosty glasses across the bar. “Tab?”

“Yes, please. Oh, and about those nachos...?”

She nodded and, without another word to him, rang in the order and then began serving the next customer in line.

“Try to be a little nicer,” Beth whispered in her ear.

“I am nice,” Ash said through clenched teeth.

“No, you’re ornery.”

“So?”

“So, the nicer you are, the more tips you make.” Her sister eyed her apparel and sighed. “It doesn’t hurt to flirt a little either, which would help because that outfit isn’t doing a thing for you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the vote of confidence,” she muttered beneath her breath.

Once Beth turned her attention to the next customer, Ashley glanced down at her well-worn jeans and T-shirt with the slogan Well Behaved Women Seldom Make History. It was one of her favorites. Plus, it could be interpreted as flirty, couldn’t it?

“Boo!”

It took Ashley a few seconds to recognize the woman who had jumped into her line of sight. Not because she didn’t know her—she had been Ashley’s best friend for her entire high school life—only because she hadn’t seen her in five years, and Jasmine Sweet was the last person Ash expected to see tonight.

“Jazzy?”

Her friend waved her arms in the air. “In the flesh!” She squealed, hopped up onto the bar—which was a maneuver that did not jibe with the designer clothes she was wearing—slid across to the other side, hopped down and enveloped Ash in a bear hug, making Ash’s eyes water from the combination of the fierceness of the embrace and the floral perfume that floated around Jasmine like the sweet scent of honeysuckle on a summer’s eve. Or...like a cloud of gnats before a rainstorm.

Ashley patted Jasmine’s back until the woman finally let up, stepping back and smiling down at her, which was odd because she and Jasmine had always been the same height.

Short. Or, fun-sized, as Jasmine called the two of them.

“Look at you! You haven’t changed a bit,” Jasmine gushed.

Ashley was going to say, “Neither have you.” But it would have been a lie. Jasmine had changed since she’d managed to escape Half Moon a week after graduation. She’d always been beautiful, but now she looked different. She was sophisticated, with her expert makeup and hair pulled back in a chic ponytail. Ash realized the height difference was due to a pair of red, high-heeled shoes that perfectly matched Jasmine’s designer handbag. Her clothes were clearly expensive—tailored black capris and a sheer sleeveless top in white that accented her dark skin tone—simple and elegant while still being sexy.

She was the same old Jasmine, only improved—vastly—with age.

“You look amazing,” Ash said, wiping her suddenly sweaty palms on the front of her old jeans. “What are you doing back here?”

“What do you mean?” Jasmine’s dark eyes glowed with excitement as she glanced happily around the bar. “I’m here for the same reason everyone else is. To see old friends and to celebrate the centennial, Half Moon style!” Her laugh was infectious, as always.

“Wow.” That’s all Ash could come up with, still in a state of disbelief by Jasmine’s unexpected arrival.

“How long has it been?” Jazz asked before holding up a hand to stop Ash from answering. “No, wait, don’t tell me, it’ll only make me feel like a terrible friend.” She leaned close in order to whisper in her ear, “We have so much catching up to do.”

“Yeah,” Ashley murmured, smoothing her own haphazard ponytail, awkwardly.

“But first—” Jasmine took in the lineup of patrons waiting to be served “—you look like you could use a little help behind the bar.”

“Oh, no,” Ash protested, assessing Jasmine’s outfit and deeming it too put-together to be worn by a bartender in a busy saloon where it would undoubtedly get messed up. “Really, you don’t need to do that.”

“Did someone just offer assistance?” Beth sidled over, grinning broadly as she inserted herself between Ash and her friend.

“Beth!” Jazz squealed and gave Beth a hug.

“Was Ash surprised?” Beth asked.

Ashley blinked at her sister. She knew Jazz was coming and didn’t tell her?

Beth read her thoughts—as only Beth could—and said, “Jazz called to say she wanted to surprise you.” She winked. “By the expression on your face, I’d say Jazz got you pretty good.”

“She sure did. Wow.” Ash cringed internally. Really? Was that all she could come up with? Wow?

Slinging her arm over Jasmine’s shoulder, Beth said, “And you are even more gorgeous than ever. Seriously, Jasmine, what’s your secret?”

“No secret. Chicago agrees with me, I guess.” Waving her hand at the crowded bar, she asked, “Please, tell me I can help back here.”

“Of course you can.”

The next half hour was a blur of pouring drinks and taking orders and trying to keep all the bar tabs straight, but with Jasmine’s help, things went more smoothly and the tip jar was soon filled to overflowing. It didn’t hurt that Jasmine knew pretty much everyone and chatted them up in typical Jazzy fashion, as if she truly cared about each and every one of them.

Through it all, Ashley only spilled two drinks, one on herself and one on Jasmine.

“Oh, my God,” Ash cried, trying in vain to wipe the beer off Jasmine’s blouse. “I’m so sorry. This is probably really expensive.”

Jasmine only laughed as she took the cloth from Ash and blotted the stain in an equally ineffective manner, probably because the cloth was covered in beer, too. “It’s no big deal. Hazards of the job, right?”

That’s when Ashley noticed Jasmine’s hand. Or rather, the big, fat diamond ring adorning the ring finger of Jasmine’s left hand. Ash grabbed her hand to take a closer look. “You’re engaged?” She rubbed the stone. It was huge, something a celebrity might wear.

“I am.” Jasmine beamed. “His name’s Parker, and we’ve been living in sin for two years, so we figured it’s time.”

“Wow.”

C’mon, Ash. Plenty of words in the English language.

She cleared her throat. “Where’d you meet?”

“Chicago. At this party. It was really posh and I totally felt out of place.” She leaned close to Ash and whispered, “He said I was the most exotic woman he’d ever met.” She giggled. “Me. Little old Jasmine Sweet from Half Moon Creek, exotic? Can you believe it?”

This time Ashley managed to contain the wow that sat tingling on the tip of her tongue. “He’s obviously got good taste.”

Jasmine squeezed Ashley’s fingers. “I was going to call to tell you, then I thought, why not come and tell you in person instead?” She opened her mouth in a silent, happy scream, and a second later, Ashley found herself crushed once more in Jasmine’s arms, the wet patch on Jasmine’s blouse soaking into the only dry patch on her T-shirt.

“I’m happy for you,” Ashley said. “Really happy.”

“You want to see a picture?”

“Of course.”

Jasmine fished her phone out of her pocket and flipped through the photo app. “Oh, here’s a good one.”

Holy shit. Parker wasn’t just good-looking, he was...perfect. Perfect blond hair. Perfect clothes that were trendy and fit him...perfectly. Straight white teeth showing up in his perfect smile.

“He’s very...handsome.” Ash handed the phone back to her friend, who stuck it in her pocket again. “You must be very happy.”

“I am.” Clapping her hands with glee, Jasmine gushed, “But do you know what would make me happier?”

Ash slowly shook her head. Was it possible for someone to be happier than Jasmine currently was? Was it even fair?

“If you help me plan it.” She shivered. “Oh, it’ll be like old times. Say yes.”

“Of course.” Ash pulled her lips back in what she hoped resembled a smile of sorts.

They went back to serving drinks, and, if at all possible, Jasmine served with even more vigor than before. In fact, her energy was in direct proportion to Ashley’s sudden lack of enthusiasm, to the point where Beth asked her what her problem was.

“No problem,” Ash snapped.

With arms crossed over her chest, she studied her. Narrowing her gaze, she glanced at Jasmine, then back at her. “Take a break.”

“No—”

Her sister took hold of her by the shoulders. “Your shirt is a mess.” She touched her hair. “This is a mess.” Using her chin she indicated the back of the saloon. “I’ve got a makeup kit and a stack of extra shirts in the office. Go get yourself sorted.”

“Fine.”

Ash slipped down the bar toward the door to the kitchen. Her skin felt tight, every inch of her sensitive to the sogginess of her shirt, the tickle of errant wisps of hair against her face, the cinch of her belt.

What was wrong with her?

Jasmine’s laugh chased her all the way into the kitchen, nipping at her heels and making her flinch with the cheery sound of it. She paused just inside the kitchen, leaning against the wall. The last time she’d felt this way was the day before Jasmine had up and left Half Moon Creek.

Memories flooded her. The first week as a freshman, when Jasmine’s family had moved to town and Jazzy had decided they should be best friends because they were in three out of four classes together. They’d become inseparable after that, hanging out after school, and on weekends. All the important firsts were shared: first time skinny-dipping at the quarry, first time trying cigarettes—Jasmine’s idea. First time texting boys—ones Jasmine liked. First dates—Jasmine’s. First kisses—also Jasmine’s...

Four long years of Ashley living in Jasmine’s shadow.

Now, after just an hour, she was right back in it. Only now the shadow was bigger than ever, and Ash wondered if she’d ever see the light of day again.

“What are you doing?” Zoe, the shiest of her shy twin sisters, said. “You look sick.”

“I’m fine.” Ash gave herself a mental shake and went on into the office in the back to freshen up. Beth’s makeup bag sat open on the desk, and she had a stack of identical black tank tops with the pub’s logo on the back sitting on the corner. After stripping off her sticky shirt, she pulled one on.

She checked herself out in the mirror. God, how could Beth wear these all the time? Yes, they were made of that stretchy spandex cotton blend, but Beth had at least two cup sizes on Ash, and the tank top was tight on Ashley. However, right now, tight was better than beer-sodden, so, after unsuccessfully stretching the material—it was like elastic, snapping right back into place—Ashley loosened her hair and ran a brush through it before refastening her ponytail. There was no way she could pull off the sleek, sophisticated look that Jazz had, but at least it was neat. Neater.

Never one to wear much makeup, she pored through all the junk in Beth’s bag before finding a lip gloss that didn’t look too bright and some blush.

There.

She blinked at herself in the mirror.

Marginally better.

“Oh, my God. That’s a thousand times better,” her sister said when Ashley reemerged a minute later.

“Look at you!” Jasmine cried. “God, you are so cute.” She shook her head in wonder. “I tell you, you are exactly the same.” She indicated the bar with a sweep of her hand. “Just like this place. I love it.”

Something deep in the pit of Ashley’s stomach let out a low, menacing growl.

“It’s like time stands still here.”

Errrrr...

“It’s so comforting.” Jasmine closed her eyes and smiled. “You have no idea.”

The growly thing in her tummy reached up and snagged the inside of her throat, making it difficult to swallow.

“So, tell me, cutie-pie.” Because she was wearing high heels, Jasmine had to stoop a little in order to lean Ash’s way. “Anyone snatched you up yet?”

The hot, beasty thing inside of her had tentacles, one of which was snaking up her spinal cord and others that slithered into her extremities. Whatever it was, it was intent on possessing her, and the growl in her tummy slipped right out of her throat.

“What did you say?” Jasmine asked with a wrinkle of her nose.

Ash licked her lips, about to embark on a diatribe, about what? She had no idea. “Yeah, I’ve got a boyfriend.”

“You do?”

“Sure.”

Someone cleared his throat.

“Hey, honey, about those nachos...?”

Ashley spun. Colton Cross stood there, adjusting his cowboy hat so it tilted back on his thick head. Perfect. “Nachos?”

“Yeah.” He squinted.

“You want nachos, baby?” She beckoned him closer. “C’mere.”

A puzzled expression settled over his features as he leaned across the bar. When Ash fisted her hand in the front of his shirt and tugged, his expression went from puzzled to wide-eyed surprise.

“Look, I’m sorry if I offended—” he began.

She didn’t let him finish. For whatever-God-forsaken-reason, Ashley leaned across the bar and planted a juicy one, square on Colton Cross’s lips, sucking his apology right out of his mouth before he had a chance to finish.

“What the—”

Her mouth still close to his, she whispered, “Pretend to be my boyfriend, just for tonight, and your nachos and beer tab are on the house.”

2

WHAT THE FUCK had just happened? The snippy girl from behind the bar kissed him. Like, full-on, openmouthed kissed him.

“Pretend to be my boyfriend, just for tonight, and your nachos and beer tab are on the house.”

“Is this a—” Colton intended to say, “joke,” but the girl locked her lips on him once more, shutting him up.

So, Colton decided to roll with it. Why the hell not? Seemed like a decent deal to him, free beer and nachos for a little bit of spit swapping? He pulled away. “As much as I want?”

“As much as you want, what?” she whispered, her face flushed, like she was angry.

Weird chick.

“Beer. Nachos.” He wet his lips and was about to say “kisses,” because—damn—the girl might be a harpy but she wasn’t half-bad in the kissing department.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” She blinked hard. “No, wait.” It was like she was doing a calculus problem in her head, her eyes rolled up and to the side, and her ruby lips moved silently, like she was figuring something out. “Well, within reason. Like you better be legal to drive home to the Silver Tree Ranch afterwards.”

“How’d you know where I live?”

“God!” She huffed out a breath and rolled her eyes again. Whatever he’d done to piss her off was clearly still irritating her, despite her lusty lip on lip action.

“Is this him?”

A dark-haired beauty leaned on the bar, a hand outstretched. “I’m Jasmine. Ashley and I go way back.”

Ashley. Right. Good thing the friend mentioned her name, because he’d forgotten it and almost called her Brenda again. He shook the woman’s hand. “Colton.”

Ashley gave him a fierce look, trying to convey...something. Who the hell knew what this woman wanted? She turned to her friend and said, “Colt and I had a bit of a fight earlier, so...” She shrugged. Like that summed up their whole relationship. Which, as far as he was concerned, it did.

“She was snippy,” he offered, helpfully.

She glowered. “You were an ass.”

Rubbing his jaw, he said, “Can’t say I recall that part.”

“We might break up.” Her face was red. Not a sweet blushing red, but a fiery red, complete with nostrils flared and steam spewing out of the ears. Angry-bull red.

He chucked her beneath the chin. “She’s so funny. It’s why I love her.”

Her eyes went saucer-sized.

Damn. Too far?

“I mean, I don’t love her, love her.”

Yes. There was the steam pouring out of her orifices again. This was fun.

He flashed a well-meaning Cross family smile at Ashley’s friend, who watched their interaction with a little pucker between her brows. Leaning toward her, he said, “I love making her mad, is what I mean. She’s feisty when she’s mad. And when she’s feisty...?” He whistled high, then low, hoping the friend would catch his meaning. Shit, this was the easiest free grub ever. “So, babe,” he said to Ashley, “about those nachos. I’m thinking a double order for me and the boys at the end of the bar. Sound like a plan?”

“Sure.”

“I’m also thinking a couple more makeup kisses are in order, too.”

Kaboom.

She was like a cartoon character, blowing her top.

Hands up in mock self-defense, he said, “I’ll collect later.” He grinned and then wove his way back down to the end of the bar, looking forward to telling the boys how he’d finagled free food for the lot of them.

* * *

“HUH,” JASMINE SAID, a wrinkle between her brows as she watched Colton walk away.

Ash rubbed the spot between her own brows in response because she could feel way more than a wrinkle there. A chasm.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. What the hell had she done?

“Well,” Jazzy’s frown slipped away to make room for a huge smile. “He is one hot tamale.” She leaned close and whispered, “How’s the sex?”

Ash choked on her spit. Her sister, very helpful sister that she was, smacked her hard between the shoulder blades. A couple good hard whacks. Then, when Ash finished choking, she leaned down and hissed in her ear, “I told you to flirt, not make out with the customers.”

Ash gave Beth a meaningful look. At least her sister got her looks. Unlike the dolt she’d chosen to be her pretend boyfriend.

Coughing once more, Ashley said to Jasmine, “Sex is super hot.” So hot, in fact, her whole body swarmed with fire ants at the thought.

“Huh,” Jasmine said. Did the fact that this was the second time she had said huh mean that her friend was dumbstruck by her choice of boyfriend? If so, maybe this wasn’t such a mistake after all.

“You guys have an interesting...” Jazz twisted her ponytail around her finger as she considered how to finish her sentence. Instead of finishing, she opted to change the subject. “How long have you been together?”

“Oh,” Ashley said, swiping her hand across her lips, intent on removing any lingering bit of Colton Cross from her mouth. “Not long.” Only the understatement of the century. “I doubt it’ll last.”

Beth snorted.

“Why do you say that?” Jazz asked.

Ashley turned to pour some drinks. Over her shoulder she said, “We’re too different.”

“How so?”

She shrugged. “We want different things. We have different philosophies on life. You know, the kind of thing that makes a long-term relationship impossible.”

For the first time that evening, Jasmine’s bubble of happiness wavered. She blinked at Ashley, a serious expression stealing over her features as Ash slid filled glasses to Jazz. “So then...” Her friend passed the pints of draft to the patrons waiting. “Why?”

Sticking her head between them, Beth answered for Ash. “Because the sex is so damn hot, she can’t keep her hands off of him.”

And for the millionth time, Ashley wished she was an only child.

Thankfully a rush of customers made it difficult to talk about the subject of her fake boyfriend anymore, and when the nachos were ready, fifteen minutes later, Ashley took them herself to the end of the bar where Colton was surrounded by his buddies.

“Here you go,” she said, sliding the platter close before turning to go.

“Hold on a sec.” He grabbed her wrist, holding her in place.

Ash’s automatic response was to tug, but Colton was stupidly strong. “What?”

The sinful grin, that all the women in Half Moon were talking about, flashed across his face. “I’m of a mind to collect.”

“Collect what?”

“A couple more kisses.”

After a glance over her shoulder to see if Jasmine was watching—which she was—and then a glance over his to see if his friends were watching—which they were—Ash went up on tiptoes, placed her free hand on Colton’s broad shoulder and whispered in his ear, “No.”

This did not deter him. He released her hand only so he could slip his arm around her waist and pull her in tight against him. “If you were my real girlfriend, we’d be kissing right now,” he said in a low voice, just for her. Then he waited to see what her response was to that.

She wedged a hand up between them, placing her palm flat against his chest—was it normal to have such hard muscles hiding behind a button-up shirt? No. She didn’t think so—and pushed. There was no give whatsoever. “But I’m not your girlfriend. We’re just pretending. Remember?”

“Oh, I remember. But you want to put on a show.” With a tilt of his chin, he indicated Jasmine. “So let’s put on a show.”

“How’d you know?”

Using his knuckles beneath her chin, he tilted her head up. “There’s only one reason a woman wants a fake boyfriend.” He ducked down so that he was a mere inch away from her mouth. His warm breath made the wisps of hair that inevitably escaped the ponytail holder tickle her cheeks.

“What’s that?” There was way too much breathiness in her whisper for her liking.

“To make her friends jealous.” He waited a half second, his eyes glued to hers. When she didn’t move, didn’t shove, didn’t object in any way, he lowered his mouth to hers and kissed her.

This was not the kiss she’d expected. She’d expected something for show, him bending her over the bar, making slurping noises as he pretended to make out with a passion he didn’t feel.

That was not what this was. This was slow. Leisurely. Like he enjoyed getting to know her mouth. Like he wanted to explore her lips, the inside and outside of them. Not to mention deep inside her mouth. His big hand cupped the back of her head, and he tilted her—gently—one way and then the other, as he slanted his mouth over hers. When he finally pulled away, she was left, lips parted, panting.

“That ought to do it.”

She blinked once, twice, three times before coming back to herself, suddenly cluing in to the fact that the whistles and catcalls were because of the show they’d put on.

Oh, shit.

What had she done?

* * *

“WHAT THE HELL was that?” Colton’s brother, Dillon, asked, giving him a dirty look.

“You’re married. You should know what a kiss looks like.”

Dillon arched a brow.

“Or, is that what happens once you knock ’em up? No more face sucking?”

With arms crossed over his chest, like he meant to intimidate him, Dillon said, “Don’t be an ass. That was Beth Ozark’s sister. The sweet one. Definitely not your type.” He glanced over his shoulder, then indicated that direction with his chin. “Seems to me if you want a plaything, Brandi’s more your speed.”

Colton shifted to get a look at the other sister. Short skirt, tight top, nice hair, pouty lips. Their eyes met, and she gave him a dark, questioning look. Colton lifted his pint in salute.

And drank.

What was everyone’s problem? So, he kissed a girl. Big fucking deal. It wasn’t like he’d started it. He took another deep drink of his beer, finishing half, thinking about the kiss. The sister had tasted good. Fresh. Not fresh as in innocent, because she’d kissed him back like she’d done it plenty of times before. Done it, enjoyed it and meant to do it again.

He meant fresh, as in the way the grass smelled after a spring storm.

So why was everyone giving him a hard time?

“Nachos are on me,” he said, indicating the platter with a wave of his glass. “Actually, the whole tab’s on me.”

“What’s up with you?” Angus, a friend and rival bull rider from Billings, asked. “You worried you’re going to lose in the ring this weekend and feel like making good on our bet early?”

“Naw,” Colton said. “This is the last nice thing I do before I kick your scrawny ass this weekend.”

A combination of laughter and groans followed by five hungry guys, demolishing a plate of chips, cheese, salsa and hot peppers. “But I’m cutting you off in a half hour. I don’t need a bunch of sorry-assed, hung-over rodeo clowns blaming your shitty rides on me tomorrow.”

“You talk big. Too bad it’s all coming out of your ass.”

Colton grabbed the last bunch of chips off the plate just before Rider, a calf roper from Butte, had a chance. “Sorry,” Colton said with a smile. “Too slow. Hope that’s not shades of things to come.”

“Ahem.”

He shoved the whole handful in his mouth and chomped.

“Um...excuse me.”

The guys around him grew quiet, their knowing smiles making him turn. Ashley was standing behind him, a very serious expression on her face.

“Can I talk to you for a sec?”

He removed his hat and ran a hand through his hair. “Sure.”

Her eyes roved from his face to the faces of the men behind him. “Not here.” Angling her head toward the back exit, she said, “Outside. If you don’t mind.”

“I don’t mind one bit, darlin’.” Draping his arm across her shoulders, which caused her to stiffen, he maneuvered them through the crowd to the back door, opening it so she could pass through first. On the other side of the door was a couple groups of smokers, leaning up against the side of the building, looking up as they passed, but not paying much attention to them.

“Over here.” Tugging on his sleeve, she pulled him toward the alley and the quiet side of the building, out of earshot.

“You angling for another kiss?” he asked once she’d stopped and turned to face him.

She scowled. “No.”

He stepped closer. “You want something else?” She was tiny, seemed even smaller looking up at him in the dark. “Something more?”

She shook her head hard. “Of course not.”

He took another step, moving her until she was backed right up against the brick of the building. Colton didn’t know why he did it, exactly. Probably because he was enjoying making her mad. “Then what are we doing here, sweetheart?”

If making her mad was his reason for lording his size over her, his action had the desired effect. She threw her head back in exasperation and gave him a shove. “Oh, my God. You’ve got to stop calling me that.”

“Sweetheart?”

“Yes. I’m not your sweetheart.”

He propped a hand on the wall above her head and leaned. “But I thought you wanted to be my sweetheart. Just for tonight.”

She wet her lips and his gaze dropped. While she may not be a beauty queen, Ashley sure as hell had nice lips. Particularly in the dim light where her tongue had left a bit of a sheen after licking.

“About that...”

“Uh-huh?” He forced his gaze up from her mouth.

“Um...”

Except then she started chewing on her lip and his gaze dropped right back down.

“C’mon. Spill.”

“You know how I asked for just tonight?”

“Yep.” God, he wanted to touch her lips. Why? He couldn’t say.

“Well...”

Now those little lips parted, and she was breathing through them. He could feel her little pants against his cheek.

“See, I’m around all weekend. And, you’re around all weekend.”

“Let me guess,” he said, propping his other hand on the wall, leaning in. “And your friend’s around all weekend. That about sum it up?”

“Mmm-hmm.”

“So...you want me to pretend to be your boyfriend for the whole weekend, is that it?”

She blinked rapidly a few times. “Maybe.”

Colton smiled. He couldn’t help it. The woman was a weird combination of pissed off, turned on and a little scared all at the same time. The confusion flitted right across her ordinary features. Which was satisfying in a degenerate sort of way.

As much as he was enjoying himself, he wasn’t a complete jackass. He eased back a smidge. “So, you want to hire me? Is that it? Like a cowboy gigolo?”

“Yes...no,” she quickly corrected. “I’m just asking if you’ll do it.” She paused to swallow. “You know. Pretend we’re together. That’s all.”

“So, pretend, huh? What exactly does that mean?”

“Well, I’ll be at the rodeo and fairgrounds tomorrow, taking pictures. So, if I run into you, you act like my boyfriend.”

“Uh-huh.”

She waved a flustered hand between them. “And we don’t have to do any more kissing, if you don’t want.”

Colton rubbed his jaw. “Seems like the kissing part is one of the perks.”

“Okay, well...” She shrugged. “A little, then.” She cleared her throat. “And then tomorrow night, I’ll be here again, so if you happen to be here, same thing.”

“Right. And then?”

She downright gnawed on her lip. “And then...there’s the formal on Saturday night. I’m supposed to be there taking pictures. I assume you’ll be there, too.”

The truth was, he hadn’t planned on going. He’d never gone to Half Moon High because his parents had moved after his and Dillon’s oldest brother died. But Colton wasn’t about to tell Ashley that. He had a warped need to hear where this was heading.

“Yeah, I’m going,” he said.

“So...we go together. That’s it. That’ll be the end of it, I promise. We could even have a big blowup and break up by the end of the night.” Her eyes lit up with a bit of fire and not of the angry kind. Like the thought of breaking up with him gave her pleasure.

Huh.

“So, you get what you want—a boyfriend. What do I get out of this?”

“I’ll cover your pub tab for the weekend.” A cringe flashed across her face...and then it was gone. Interesting. Colton considered her offer, but there was obviously something about it that bothered her. That was fine, he had other ideas, too. “I think the payment needs to suit the job, don’t you?”

She got a cute little wrinkle in between her brows. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, the tab’s fine for tonight. But what about tomorrow?”

“Umm...more beer?”

“I don’t like to drink much when I’m competing.”

“What then?”

Colton rubbed the back of his neck, and a slow smile inched across his face as he gazed down at her. “You have to do whatever I say.”

“What? No.”

“No?”

“Well, like what kinds of things?”

He leaned right in. “Haven’t decided yet. But I’m sure I can think of something.”

“Well, it can’t be too crazy.” She swallowed. “Or illegal.”

“Don’t worry. You’ll like it, I promise.”

Her eyes narrowed as she regarded him. She chewed on one side of her lower lip and then the other. “I don’t know...”

“Hey.” He stepped back, holding up his hands. “You’re the one who needs the boyfriend. I don’t need a girlfriend.” Don’t want one, in fact, he almost said. “You don’t like my terms? Find another stooge to play the part.”

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her back, which brought the top of her head to right below his chin. God, she was just a little thing.

“You’re right. Beggars can’t be choosers. So, it looks like you’re it.”

Huh. That sounded suspiciously like an insult.

“I agree to your terms.” She thrust her hand forward to shake.

He took it, and she pumped once before quickly releasing it. She pushed away from the wall and strode toward the back entrance without so much as a backward glance in his direction, as if she had complete control of this situation.

Colton grinned in the darkness because there was a certain amount of perverse pleasure to be found in playing this game with this woman. She thought she knew what was what. Well, he’d show her, and by the end of a pretend relationship with him, she wouldn’t know what hit her.

3

THE BAR HAD finally cleared out, and the Ozark girls were busy cleaning up and counting receipts. Because of the two-hour time difference between Chicago and Montana, Jazz had faded around midnight, and Ashley had forced her to go up to her room at the hotel and go to bed. “We’ll catch up tomorrow,” she’d assured her before Jasmine left.

The back door banged, and Ash, Beth and the twins looked up. Brandi came striding in, her hair mussed, her lipstick smeared, an unrepentant look on her face.

“Where the hell have you been?” Beth asked, hands on her hips.

“Saying good-night to an old friend.” Brandi dumped her apron on the bar, giving Beth a withering look from beneath her lash extensions. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“We’d all like to get out of here tonight, so, yeah, it is my business.”

“Seems to me that the one you should be worrying about is our precious youngest sister.” Brandi narrowed her gaze at Ash, and Ashley’s stomach cinched. She knew where this was going.

“What the hell are you doing with Colton Cross?”

“We’ve been seeing each other.”

“Since when?”

“Since a while ago. We just—I just didn’t want anyone to know.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m not going to be here much longer, and I didn’t think it was anyone’s business and...”

“She’s just using him for sex,” Beth said, ever the helpful older sister.

“You’re sleeping with Colton Cross?” Zoe asked, glancing at Chloe, asking silently whether she knew about this.”

Before Ash could answer, Brandi spoke up. “As if she’s having sex with him.”

Ash propped her fists on her hips. “Of course I am.”

“Right.” Brandi stuck her elbows on the bar and leaned close. “Tell me about it.”

Glancing from Brandi to the twins, then to Beth, Ash said, “No. It’s none of your business.”

Brandi shrugged and went back to counting her money. “Because you’re not doing it. I can tell when someone’s getting some. You—my uptight little sister—are not getting any.”

“You’re disgusting,” Beth said. “Mom and Dad sure dropped the ball on the class gene when they had you.”

Brandi ignored Beth—as usual—and poked Ash in the shoulder. “I don’t know what you’re up to, or why, but as far as I’m concerned, Colton Cross is still fair game.”

“Oh, my God. You’re jealous,” Beth said, throwing her arms up in outrage. “You think you’re the only one who can attract a man around here? Seriously, Brandi. Just because Ash doesn’t dress like a tramp, she’s just as pretty as you. Plus, she’s way nicer.”

“Yep,” Chloe concurred. “Way nicer.”

Ashley appreciated the support, but what she really wanted to do right now was change the subject, finish cashing out and get home to bed.

“Oh, what a surprise. Everyone gang up on me and defend poor Ashley.”

“You’ve just been outside with someone, doing who-the-hell-knows-what, and now you’re moving in on Ashley’s guy?” Beth shook her head, muttering obscenities beneath her breath.

The perpetual fights between her two older sisters was reason number 4,392 for why she needed to get out of Half Moon. Her family drove her bananas, and as long as she stayed, it would be high school forever.

Drumming her hands along the bar top, Ash said, “I’m done and I’m out of here.” She grabbed her camera and purse from beneath the bar and waved to her bickering sisters. “Night, all.”

“Get some rest,” Beth called.

“Night, Ash,” the twins called in unison.

“This isn’t over,” Brandi called after her.

Ash tilted her head toward the ceiling and whispered, “Mom, wherever you are? Your fourth child needs an ass whooping.”

* * *

COLTON FINISHED UP the morning chores with the other ranch hand, Curtis, and then headed to the bunkhouse to shower before breakfast. He had taken over one half of the bunkhouse after the longtime ranch hand, Thaddeus Knight, had left. Turned out there was a lot more to old Thad than they knew, like he’d been hiding from the law for over ten years. Turned out he was innocent, and now he and his girlfriend were out east somewhere.

So Colton had offered to help out on the ranch on a temporary basis until they found someone more permanent. The Half Moon rodeo was always his first of the season before the rodeo season really got underway. He loved it. Different town every weekend. Riding, flirting, making a living doing the things he loved. Nothing to hold him or tie him down, just living in the moment every day of his life.

And this year was his year. This year he was aiming to qualify for the pro tour, which would mean competing professionally all year long.

After dressing, he made his way from the bunkhouse to the big guesthouse that his brother Dillon and his wife, Gloria, ran. It was already warm and it promised to be a perfect day for the rodeo.

“Where is everyone?” Colton asked as he sat down to a strangely empty dining room table. The guesthouse was fully booked for the weekend.

“Everyone went in to see the parade,” Dillon said.

“Right. Why aren’t you two there?”

“Too busy,” Dillon said.

“Too pregnant,” Gloria added, patting her belly. “What about you?”

“Parades aren’t my thing,” Colt said, filling his plate with bacon and eggs and helping himself to coffee. He turned to his brother. “Wish you were riding?” This would be the second year that his brother didn’t ride in the rodeo, and it bothered him. Dillon had always been his idol, living the life of a rodeo cowboy.

But now?

Colton eyed his older brother from across the dining room table. He’d turned into their old man overnight. Giving up the excitement of the road to run a ranch. And seriously, the way he doted on Gloria, it was hard to watch. Finding any excuse to get his hands on his wife’s growing belly.

His brother, the lone wolf Colton had always admired, had turned into a family man.

He never would have believed it.

“What time you heading in?” Dillon asked.

“Probably around noon. I’ll help out with the stock.”

“What time is your ride?”

“Three.”

Dillon reached in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. He tossed them across the table to his brother. “Use the trailer if you want. I cleaned it out last year, but the propane tanks are full. You can stay in it for the weekend if you like.”

“Thanks. But don’t you need help around here?”

“Nah. We’ll be good.” Dillon glanced at Gloria before asking, “You seeing Ashley today?”

Holy hell. He’d almost forgotten. He was supposed to be Plain Jane’s boyfriend. “Yeah,” he said dismissively. “I’ll probably grab some lunch with her or something.”

Gloria, glanced at her husband and then set her female sights on Colton.

Oh shit. He knew that look. Let the inquisition begin.

“Ashley Ozark? Isn’t she the nice girl at Heart’s Bouquet, the flower shop?”

Colton had no idea if she worked there. “You know her?”

“Sure,” Gloria said. “She’s been so helpful with the last couple of weddings we’ve hosted.” She carefully set her mug of tea on the table. “So, where’d you two meet?”

“At the Prospectors.” Colton dove into his breakfast.

“She doesn’t seem your type.”

With fork midway to his mouth, he said, “I wasn’t aware I had a type.”

Dillon and Gloria looked at one another and then simultaneously broke into laughter.

“Why isn’t she my type?” Colton asked, not appreciating the laughter in the least.

“Um, she’s an artist. A feminist. A smart girl with a future.”

Okay. What the hell did people take him for? An idiot who wasn’t going anywhere? “You saying she’s too good for me?”

Gloria pushed herself out of her chair, leading with her baby tummy. “I’m just saying that she doesn’t seem like fling type material.”

“Hold on, now,” Dillon called after his wife as she made her way toward the kitchen. “Not to defend my depraved little brother, but it seems to me you tried to break up a fling last Christmas.”

“Yeah, so?”

“So, you didn’t call that one correctly.”

Gloria may have waddled like a nearly full-term pregnant woman, but she could still spin around with the grace of a ballerina if the moment called for it. “What did you say?”

“I’m saying you were wrong the last time you tried to break up a fling.”

She raised a single finger in the air and held it there, for effect.

Colton sat back in his chair, enjoying the show, glad the attention was off him.

“I was not wrong.”

“Well, now...”

The finger was now pointed severely at her husband. “Jolie was not looking for a fling. Neither was Thad. Might I remind you, they are still together. By definition a fling would have ended long ago. Therefore, I was right.”

“However you want to spin it, Red. You do that.”

His fiery sister-in-law growled, right up until his brother stalked up to her, pulled her close and whispered loud enough for Colt to hear, “God, I love making you mad.”

Colton blinked. Then he frowned. Then he shook his head.

Just because he liked making the Ozark woman mad didn’t mean he had anything in common with his brother.

What he was doing with Ashley was a stunt. A game.

And if he also got a little turned on by making The Righteous Sister mad, it meant nothing at all.

* * *

ASHLEY WAS PLEASED with the pictures she’d gotten of the parade. She scrolled through them for the third time, the marching bands, the brightly colored floats. The cowboys. She enlarged a few, but Colton wasn’t in any of them. After transferring her favorite images to a folder on her computer’s desktop, she sat back in her chair and rubbed her stomach. It had been feeling funny all day. Probably something she ate.

The doorbell sounded, and she unplugged her camera from her computer and went to the door. Jasmine was standing there, wearing a cute Western-style top that sat low on her shoulders and a denim skirt. Instead of the customary cowboy boots everyone else would be wearing, she was wearing sandals, showing off her professional pedicure.

“You ready?”

“Sure. C’mon in while I grab my stuff.”

Jasmine followed her through her father’s house to her bedroom.

“Seriously,” Jasmine said. “Your room is exactly the same. God, I wish my parents had stayed here in Half Moon. Their place in Denver just doesn’t feel like home when I go there.”

After graduating from college last year, Ash had come back to live with her father. It only made sense while she saved up money to leave again. Glancing around the room she’d grown up in, she now saw it through Jasmine’s eyes. While she hadn’t bothered to change it because she told herself she wasn’t staying long enough to go to the trouble, she now decided it wouldn’t hurt to replace the posters on the wall with some of her own work. Maybe repaint, too. In fact, she’d stop by the thrift shop on Main and see if she could find a few new-to-her accents to spruce the place up a bit.

Draping her camera bag over her shoulder, she caught a glimpse of herself and Jasmine in the full-length mirror beside her door. Jasmine looking sophisticated and mature. Ashley? Well, she fit in perfectly with her old bedroom: looking like she was exactly the same girl she’d been in high school.

“Maybe I’ll change,” she said on a whim.

“Do you want help picking something out?” Jazz asked eagerly.

Ash opened her closet and sighed. “If you want. There aren’t a lot of options, though.”

Rifling through the limited clothes in Ashley’s closet, Jasmine picked out a checked top and an old pair of jeans. The choices weren’t much better than what Ashley was currently wearing, and she said so.

“Do you have scissors?”

“Yeah, why?”

“These just need a few alterations.” After Ashley passed Jazz the scissors from her desk, Jasmine quickly cut the arms off the shirt and handed it to her. “Put this on.” While Ash buttoned up the shirt, Jazz went to work, chopping the legs off the jeans. It happened so quick, Ash didn’t have a chance to stop her and tell her those were her second favorite pair.

“Now these.”

Ashley wriggled out of the jeans she was wearing and slid the shorts up her legs. She checked her image in the mirror. She looked ridiculous. The shirt hung over the too-short shorts, making it look like she wasn’t wearing anything underneath. “I think they’re too short and the—”

“I’m not done.” Jasmine interrupted. Using her manicured nails, she distressed the bottom of the shorts, created a fringe of denim. “You have amazing legs. You need to show them off.”

“I don’t know,” Ash said hesitantly, thinking the shorts were something Brandi would be more likely to wear.

“The shorts aren’t too short. The shirt is too long.”

Snip. Snip.

Before Ash could stop her, Jasmine had begun to chop off the bottom of the shirt. Once she was done, she removed all buttons from her navel down.

“Now, we just tie this in front like this.” She tied the two ends of material and turned Ashley toward the mirror. “Look at your stomach. People would kill to have a flat stomach like yours.” Jasmine smiled at their reflections. “I think this is exactly the kind of outfit that Colton would like, don’t you?”

“Do you think?”

“Uh, yeah. Watching him last night? He seems like a...manly man, you know?”

No, Ash did not know. Though a flashback from when Colton backed her up against the outside of the hotel made her catch her breath and warmed her skin. He’d certainly seemed manly then.

Jasmine reached around and unbuttoned another button so that the top of Ashley’s bra was visible. “He’s the kind of man that appreciates it when a woman looks like a woman.” She grinned. “And this should do it.”

Ashley gazed at her reflection. Did she want to tempt a guy like Colton?

Her sister’s snide remark rang between her ears: What the hell are you doing with Colton Cross?... I can tell when someone’s getting some. You—my uptight little sister—are not getting any.

Who said she wanted anything from Colton Cross? She didn’t. But was there anything wrong with wanting people to think that she could tempt a cocky bull rider like Colton Cross?

Nope. Nothing wrong at all.

With shoulders back, Ash led the way to the front door.

Time to find the cowboy and enact a little simulated seduction.

However, once she and Jasmine arrived at the fairgrounds, Ashley forgot all about Colton. Or, nearly. He was like a morning coffee, long gone but the flavor still subtly lingering hours later.

She was too busy taking pictures of the grounds, the vendors, the contestants, the kids and games and food booths, while listening to Jasmine catch her up on the last five years of her life.

“I worked for a few years in my uncle’s law firm. It was okay, mostly administrative stuff. But I kept taking classes in the evenings.”

Ash focused the lens, zoomed in and focused again. A child’s face, crumpled, about to cry as his balloon slipped out of his fingers.

Click.

“What kind of classes?” Ash asked, letting the camera dangle from around her neck as they wandered past the chili tasting booths. “Law? You thinking about law school?”

Jasmine snorted. “No. I’m not you.” She sniffed. “Aesthetics. Hair. Laser. Makeup. You know. Beauty school stuff.”

Ashley glanced sideways at her friend. Jasmine had never got the kind of marks that she had in high school. But she was smart; she’d just spent more time on her wardrobe than on her studies. “You could be a lawyer if you wanted, you know.”

“Doesn’t matter. I don’t need to work.”

Ash stopped and looked at her friend. “Why not?”

A weird smile crossed Jazz’s face. “Parker’s loaded. You should see our place in Chicago.” She grabbed Ash’s hands. “In fact, you should come visit. No. You have to come. You’re going to be my maid of honor.”

Typical. Jasmine hadn’t asked Ash. She’d just decided. Ash both resented and envied that in her friend.

“So, tell me about Parker.”

“Oh, you have to meet him. He’s so...suave. Elegant. You know? He’s like Mr. GQ. Or something.”

Ash used the camera as a means to tune out her friend and her recitation of her perfect life. She wanted to be happy for her, she really, really did. But sometimes it was just so hard when Ashley’s own life felt so insignificant and provincial beside her friend’s.

Holding the camera in front of her face, she stopped just outside the rodeo grounds, taking a picture of four cowboys heading through the gates: three black hats, one white, Western shirts, bowlegged gaits, their worn jeans fitting perfectly.

Say what you want about cowboys, but rodeo boys had seriously nice asses.

Click.

“Excuse me, have you seen a little boy? Four years old, blond hair, Superman shirt, green balloon?”

Ashley lowered her camera. A woman she didn’t recognize stood there with a baby in her arms and a worried expression on her face.

“I don’t think so. What’s his name?” Jasmine asked.

“Noah.”

Ashley scrolled through the images on her camera, finding the one with the child and the balloon. Sure enough, the boy was wearing a Superman shirt. She showed it to the woman.

“Yes. That’s him. Where was he?”

“Over by the ring toss. Maybe ten, fifteen minutes ago.”

“Thank you.” The woman hurried off.

Ash checked her watch. The opening ceremony for the rodeo would be starting in five minutes. She was supposed to get pictures. She hesitated. “Maybe we should go give her a hand.”

“I’ll go,” Jasmine offered. “You go on in. I’ll meet up with you later.”

“Thanks, Jazz.”

Jazz took off after the young mom, walking briskly to catch up. A stingy something-or-other reverberated inside Ashley’s chest. How was it possible to both like someone so much but also resent them, too? Jasmine was her best friend, and Ash—well, she just had to say it—she was jealous of her. Thoroughly, bitterly jealous.

Always had been.

With a shake of her head, she entered the rodeo grounds, showing her press pass to the ticket takers at the door. And what does she do about her juvenile jealousy? Does she own up to it? Oh, no. She goes and makes up a boyfriend to deal with it. Stupid.

“Ash, up here.”

As the chair of the Fair Committee, her father was sitting on the stage behind the announcer’s podium. Ash climbed up to join him.

“This’ll be the best spot for the opening ceremonies.” He checked his watch. “You were cutting it close. It’s starting right away.”

“Then I’d say I was just on time.” She took a quick pic of her father and the other board members, all wearing white hats. Then got a picture of the announcer, Hal Roberts, just as he welcomed everyone to the kickoff of the rodeo.

The opening procession commenced with the flag bearers on horseback, carrying the county, state and American flags. The rodeo princesses followed, then judges and competitors until the ring was filled with people on horses, stomping impatiently, picking up on the nerves of the competitors.

Before the national anthem could begin, there was a commotion just below the announcer’s table.

Shit!

A little boy wearing a Superman shirt had slipped between the bars separating the ring from the stands and was now walking among the legs of the already nervous horses. His face was red, and he was crying loudly.

Hal’s voice rose in a panic. “There’s a young child in the ring. Can everyone please remain—”

Before he could finish, a cowboy slid down from his horse, jogged over to the kid and scooped him up. He carried him toward the stage and handed him over to Hal, saying, “You’re okay, kid. Everything’s fine.”

That’s when Ashley realized two things.

First, she’d been on automatic pilot, watching the entire thing unfold from behind the lens of her camera, capturing the scene, frame by frame.

Secondly, and more importantly, it had been Colton Cross who’d jumped down to save the kid.

4

WHILE THE COMMOTION settled down after the boy’s panicky mother hurried onstage to collect her son, Colton glanced up to find Ashley Ozark—his pseudo girlfriend—staring at him, her camera pulled close to her chest like she was protecting it from stampeding hooves. He beckoned her closer.

Hesitantly, she moved forward, hunkering down at the front of the stage. “Yes?”

He grabbed the front of her shirt and pulled her in for a kiss. Possessing her mouth. The little gasp she made was rather satisfying, he had to admit.

“What was that for?” she whispered breathlessly.

His gaze flicked to the left side of the stage, where her friend was watching. “Just putting on a show, as commanded.”

“Is that what all of this was?” She indicated the ring and the crying child with a sweep of her hand. “A show?”

Colton frowned. “No. The kid was about to be trampled, that was instinct. The kiss was for show.” Though he’d be a liar if he said there wasn’t a certain amount of instinct involved in wanting to kiss the uptight Ozark sister, as well. Though she was looking a little less uptight in her short shorts and tiny top.

“Okay.” She pulled back, smiling awkwardly. “That should do it.”

“Really? See, I’m not so sure.”

“What do you—”

He yanked her down for another kiss. It was fun shutting her up with kisses. Partly because he wanted to teach her a lesson for thinking she had control of him, but mostly because the second their lips met, hers gave in: softening right up and parting for his tongue. Her lips meshed with his in a deliciously juicy way.

“Okay, okay,” she panted against his mouth.

Colton grinned.

This time he let her pull away. She stood, crossing her arms in front of her belly, which was too bad because the little shirt she was wearing showed off her tummy, all nice and trim with the cutest little belly button. He wouldn’t mind tracing that sweet little navel with his tongue later...

Whoa. Where had that come from?

“What time is your ride?”

“Three.”

“Good luck.”

“Thanks.” Colton rubbed the back of his head. Maybe he was taking this fake boyfriend thing too far. “You gonna watch?”

She raised the camera. “I’m paid to watch.”

“What time are you done?”

“Five.”

“Okay. Meet me by the gate to the stockyard at five-fifteen.” He stretched his back. “Then you can show me how much you appreciate me.”

Her gaze narrowed.

He saluted. “Later, babe.” Colton said the last part extra loud so that the friend would hear.

There. He’d done his part. Now he could go concentrate on his ride. Later he’d see if the Ozark girl would make good on her end of the bargain.

* * *

OF ALL THE harebrained schemes, this one had to be the worst. Colton Cross had just made sure everyone in Half Moon Creek saw them making out. At the announcer’s stage, no less. And he’d done it after heroically saving a kid from being trampled by horses. Though whether he’d done it to be a good man or whether he’d done it to make himself look good, Ashley couldn’t decide.

Probably the latter.

“Thank God for Colton,” Jasmine said from behind her.

Ash didn’t turn. Instead, she watched as Colton leisurely jogged back to his horse. He grabbed the reins before gracefully swinging up onto the animal’s back, and as he rode past, he tipped his hat to her.

Heat climbed from the pit of her stomach and up her throat. A fake boyfriend was not supposed to have such an effect on her. She stumbled to her seat beside her father and sat down, pretending to fiddle with her camera.

“So, you and Cross?” he asked gruffly.

She mumbled something that was somewhat of an assertion.

“You could do worse.”

Out of the corner of her eyes, she snuck a glance at her father. Was it possible he was actually in favor of a relationship with Colton?

Nah.

The opening ceremonies came to a close, and the first event—barrel racing—began. Ashley turned her attention from Colton and focused on the task at hand, capturing as many images as she could. Time operated on a different wavelength when she was behind the camera, so she was barely aware of the fact that Jasmine had stayed as long as she had, watching the show.

When there was a break between events, Jasmine explained—with a knowing smirk—that she wanted to see the riding events, the bull riding in particular. Just the mention of it brought Colton to mind and had Ashley’s stomach in knots because, well...

She wasn’t exactly sure why.

It was probably the unknown payment for services rendered.

The man had gone above and beyond to act like her boyfriend. What exactly would he expect for it?

Time both seemed to inch by and simultaneously move at warp speed, and before Ash knew it, the bull-riding event was next on the schedule. Colt was the fifth rider, and the queasiness in her stomach intensified, culminating in a nauseous feeling when Hal called Colton’s name as the next contestant.

He’s just like all the rest. Just take pictures like he’s everyone else.

Bolstering herself with a deep breath, Ash focused on the gate, snapping shots of the cowboy in question as he wrapped the rope around his right hand in preparation for the ride. The bull he sat astride was a massive yellowish beast, so ready to buck it was slamming against the gate before it even opened.

The horn sounded. The gate opened. The bull took off, jumping and spinning, kicking and bucking in a way that was completely unnatural for an animal its size.

Click. Click. Click.

Ash followed the movement of man and beast as they danced violently around the ring for what seemed like an eternity.

The eight-second horn blew, an outrider rode up, divesting the animal of the flank strap, and Colton hopped off. Even without the strap, the bull was angry, and seeing Colton in the ring—the man who’d been foolish enough to try to ride him—enraged the bull even more. At least, that’s what it looked like to Ash. Her thoughts were confirmed when the thing charged, and Colton ran for the gate.

The audience gave out a collective gasp as Colton narrowly avoided the bull’s horns before climbing the rungs of the gate to safety. Together, the rodeo clown and outriders corralled the bull back to the stockyard, resulting in a cheer from the crowd and a hat wave from Colton.

“My, my,” Jazz whispered in her ear. “That man must get your juices flowing.”

Ash turned to her friend. “Colton knows how to put on a show.”

“Yeah.” Jasmine’s eyes were aglow with admiration. “He’s something else.”

Really?

So now Jazz was seduced by Colton’s manly displays? Because that was what it was, right? A display. An egotistical need for attention. Why else would someone willingly climb on to the back of an angry animal and risk their life for all and sundry to witness?

“Listen,” Jazz said. “I know you’ve got to stick around and take pictures, and I overheard you’ve got plans with Colton, so I’m going to head back to the fairgrounds and visit with some people. Catch up at the saloon tonight?”

“Yeah. Sure.”

Jasmine reached for her hands and squeezed. “You are one lucky girl.”

“Thanks,” Ash said softly.

Lucky? Ashley didn’t feel lucky.

More like one of the calves in the roping contest. In way over her head and about to be taken down and humiliated for all to see.

* * *

ASHLEY LEANED AGAINST the gate, wishing she hadn’t cut off her jeans so that she could wipe her damp palms down the front. She gave herself a mental shake. This was stupid. Why did she feel nervous?

Because you have no idea what Colton wants from you.

True.

So, what would it be? A challenge? A dare? Something menial? Something sexual...?

Her tummy tightened at the thought.

And not in a bad way.

Shit!

“Heya, Ashley.”

Ash spun around. Colton was there with the sun at his back, his hat pulled low so that his face was left in shadow.

“Colton.” She cleared her throat. “Good ride today.”

“Thanks. Ol’ Yeller was sufficiently ornery.”

“That the bull?”

“Yep. That was a lucky draw on my part.”

“Why’s that?”

“The tougher the bull, the higher the score if you make it to eight.”

Ashley nodded. Being one of five sisters who lived in town meant she really didn’t know all that much about the rules of the rodeo.

“So, what do I owe you for that overt display of affection by the announcer’s stage?”

“Wow. Right down to business, huh?” He pushed his hat back, so she could see his face. His eyes sparkled irreverently.

Good God.

“It’s a busy weekend.” Ash indicated her camera. “So the quicker we figure it out, the quicker I can get back to work.”

Colton’s lips twisted. “All right. Show me your hands.”

“Huh?”

He reached halfway across, holding his hands palms up. “Let’s see them.”

Hesitantly, Ash placed her hands in his. She was amazed by how small they looked. He rubbed his thumbs over her knuckles and then turned them over, palms up.

“They’re nice. Are you strong?”

Snatching her hands away, she formed a fist and punched him on the shoulder. It was total instinct, and it took her a moment to realize what she’d done.

He chuckled. “Nice jab. Okay, let’s go.” He held his hand out as if to shake. “Take my hand.”

“Why?”

“Thumb war, darlin’.”

“What? You mean, if I beat you in a thumb war, we’re square?”

“No,” he scoffed. “It’s a test. You ready? Set...”

“What kind of—”

He didn’t let her finish. Before saying “go,” Colton twisted her hand, captured her thumb with his and pinned it down.

“You cheated.”

“So?”

She squinted up at him, her thumb still trapped beneath his. “One more.”

“Fine.” He released her thumb but still held her hand in ready position, though his pinky finger tickled the inside of her wrist, distracting her. “Ready...”

“Go.” She dodged his big thumb with quick movements before managing to get on top of him. “Gotcha!”

So what if it was only for, like, a millisecond? She dropped his hand before he could slip out and beat her.

“Best of three,” he said, his voice low, though his dark eyes twinkled dangerously.

The third time was an all-out battle, not just between hands and thumbs but their whole bodies. Ash tried to block him with her back so he couldn’t see what he was doing, which only resulted in him tripping her—gently—and lowering her to the grass.

“What the...”

He settled his weight on top of her, holding her hand above her head, continuing to wrestle with her thumb while she attempted—unsuccessfully—to wrestle him off her body. What she did manage to do, however, was experience the wonderful weight of Colton on top of her: his legs twining between hers, his pelvis flush with hers.

Wait.

What was that?

Was he aroused?

The idea that Colton Cross had a hard-on because he was wrestling with her had the opposite effect of what she would have thought. There was not one part of her that felt incensed. On the contrary, Ashley fought an instinctual need to grind her pelvis up into him. More, to spread her legs and let him settle that steely part of him right along the seam of her shorts. She was so taken by surprise by her body’s response to his arousal, she forgot completely about what was happening between their hands.

“That does it.”

Colton claimed his victory by slowly pushing himself to his feet and extending his hand to help her up.

Of course she ignored it. Dusting herself off, Ashley steadied her features, determined not to show how much she’d enjoyed the impromptu wrestling match.

“You going to tell me what that was all about?” she asked, hand propped on her hip, gaze avoiding his.

“I just needed to make sure you’re strong enough.”

“Strong enough for what?”

“You’ll find out. Come on.”

Colton strode toward the parking lot on the other side of the stockyard, forcing Ashley to run to keep up.

“Strong enough for what?” she repeated as she raced after him. “And where the hell are we going?” He wasn’t going to make her ride a bull or something, was he?

No. Maybe a cow. That would be appropriately humiliating.

Colton didn’t stop until he reached his Dodge Ram 4x4, which Ashley knew was his by the sound of the doors being unlocked by a fob.

Turning, he waited for her, resting his fists on his hips. “See, after a ride, I’m always sore. I usually go to Lucy down at the clinic for a massage.” Then he pushed his pelvis forward and stretched backwards, groaning as he straightened again. “But I figure I’ll save myself a hundred bucks by letting you give me one instead.”

“You want me to give you a what?” Ashley sputtered. She looked Colton up and down. Then up and down once more.

“You heard me. C’mon. Get in.”

She shook her head. Oh, no. This would not be good. “I can’t. I’ve got to be at work by seven.”

“Plenty of time. It’s just a massage. That’s all.”

Sure, but last time she’d given a massage to a man, that wasn’t all. That was only the beginning.

* * *

AFTER HIS RIDE, Colton had gone to the trailer to see how well it was set up. He’d gotten the whole massage idea quite by accident. It was when Angus, one of the hands who helped out as an outrider, was rubbing down his horse’s legs. It made him realize that he’d forgotten to book an appointment with Lucy. Quickly following that thought was the realization that Ms. Feisty in the short shorts owed him.

A + B = C.

Simple.

Then he’d come back to the trailer to see if it would work for said appointment. All he’d had to do was hook up the electrical outlet and the water hose, and she was good to go. He’d picked up a few groceries and some beer from the corner store down the block from where the trailer was parked on the end of Elm and then had come back to meet Ashley.

He’d had no intention of making this about anything other than a massage, until they started wrestling.

Goddamn.

She may be tiny, but she was strong, and feeling her writhe beneath him with those long, bare legs and that taut tummy? Well, fuck it all, he’d gotten the stiffest Johnson he could remember having in a long time.

“So, where are we going to do this?” She eyed the couch and the bunk near the front of the trailer.

There was a slide-out bedroom in the back, and Colton indicated that direction with a swing of his head. “Bedroom in the back.” He’d already made the bed with clean sheets from the cupboard.

“Do you have any lotion or anything?”

Shit. He knew he’d forgotten something. Reaching overhead, he opened a cupboard searching for something. There was a bottle of olive oil and some coconut oil. He passed them to her.

“Do you want to taste like olives or coconut?”

“And who might be doing the tasting?”

Her eyes went large before quickly narrowing.

“Seeing as you’re my girlfriend and all...”

“Cool it, Colton.”

“I’m just teasing.” He leaned over her and plucked a blade of grass out of her mussed hair, a reminder of the wrestling match.

Bam.

Just like that, blood pounded toward his cock.

What was wrong with him? It must be the ride. Adrenaline always made him horny. That had to be it.

He flicked the grass toward the sink and reached for the tub of coconut oil, unscrewed the top and sniffed.

“Is it still good?”

He passed it to her so she could do the same. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and took another. When she looked up, there was a guilty expression on her face. What was that about? She passed the tub back to him. “It needs to be heated.”

With a raised brow, he took it and popped it into the small microwave oven. “How long?”

“Not too long. Thirty seconds should do it.”

He set the timer and then grinned at her. “You’ve done this before, I take it?”

“Of course. I’m not a prude, you know.”

“Never said you were.”

Thirty seconds felt like three hours as Ashley avoided his gaze while they waited. She looked at the ceiling, the floor, the table, her fingernails, anywhere but at him. Finally, the bell rang, and he pulled the tub out of the oven and passed it to her. The scent of coconut pervaded the small space, and if he wasn’t mistaken, Ashley’s eyes fluttered closed as she took in another deep breath.

Interesting.

He eased past her and headed toward the back of the trailer and the door to the bedroom. It was a decent size for a trailer: queen-size bed with cupboards overhead and a built-in wardrobe in the corner. Dillon had used it while traveling the circuit, and Colton could see how it would be more comfortable than staying in crummy hotel rooms, town after town.

“So, ah...” Ashley stood behind him, looking apprehensive.

“You get comfortable, I’ll go change.”

“Right.”

“Good.” He moved past her, grazing her bare arms as he went. Sure the room was a decent size—for a trailer—but still close quarters with a woman you barely knew.

Pausing by the door, he said, “Unless, of course, you care to help.”

She shot him a cool look. “I’m good, thanks.”

Colton didn’t realize he was smiling until he got to the tiny bathroom and saw his reflection in the mirror. Scrubbing a hand across his jaw did not remove his grin. Ah, hell. So he enjoyed teasing the woman. It wasn’t a crime to enjoy teasing the person who was using him as a gigolo. He was pretty sure in such situations teasing was mandatory.

After hanging his hat on the back of the door, Colton stripped out of his shirt and jeans, hesitating for only a second before stepping out of his boxers, too. If this was a legit massage—which it was—then he’d be going in naked, like always.

Wrapping the only towel in sight around his waist—a threadbare thing—Colton squeezed out of the bathroom and returned to the bedroom. Ashley was sitting primly on the edge of the bed, her hands folded in her lap, the tub of coconut oil open beside the bed.

Her gaze flicked to his midsection and then up to his face. A tiny muscle twitched beside her mouth. “This is not professional.”

“What do you mean?”

Her gaze flicked down again.

Colton glanced at himself.

Jesus Christ.

The thin towel did nothing to hide his raging hard-on.

5

WHAT THE HELL? This was twice in the span of half an hour that Colton Cross had a ginormous erection. Maybe he was just always erect. Maybe he had the opposite complaint to erectile dysfunction. Erectile hyper function. Was that a thing?

She’d have to look it up later.

Whatever it was, Colton did not seem in the least bit embarrassed. Oh, no. He strode right on by, leading with his Willy Nelson, like he was a stud on the lookout for a ripe filly.

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