Colt where he was still standing next to his truck, leaning against the side as if he had all day to wait for her. Of course he could lean like that — it wouldn’t take her long at all to traverse the entire town!
Brielle moved to the other end of the pathetic “main street” and looked out to see some houses dotted along the next street over, along with the school and churches he’d just mentioned, and that was it. Colt hadn’t been duping her. This one street, one simple street, contained every freaking business in the tiny town.
She found that the place she’d thought was a hair salon was proudly announcing in their window that they did nails. Then there was what looked like a Little House on the Prairie sort of store, and a grocery store with a huge neon Coors Light sign blinking in the front window.
She really was in hell. No, this was worse than hell. At least in hell a person could find evidence of exciting vices, but none of those could be seen in this pitiful excuse for a place. She felt totally defeated.
“How far away is the nearest real town?” she asked when she reached Colt again.
“Sterling is a real town.”
His chuckle made her want to claw his eyes out.
“Okay, how far is it to find the nearest large town?” Why, oh why hadn’t she done some research, any at all, on where she was going? Probably because she hadn’t planned on staying, and probably because she’d never have figured that a town this small actually existed.
“Well, Billings is about half an hour’s drive away.”
“I want to go there for clothes.” Brielle indicated that she’d like for him to move from the passenger door so she could climb back into his truck. She expected nothing less than his full compliance. He did work for her, after all.
“Too bad” was all he said. He clicked the lock button on his key fob and headed toward Peggy’s.
Brielle was so stunned that she didn’t move from her place on the surprisingly pristine sidewalk for a full thirty seconds. “Oh, this is so my last straw,” she muttered as her eyes narrowed and she took determined steps in his direction.
She was through with cowboys, through with Sterling, and through with this business of ranching. Someone was damn well going to listen to her today — and that someone just happened to be Colt Westbrook.
Fury rolling off her in waves, she practically took the glass door off its hinges when she barreled into Peggy’s clothing store. When she came up against a solid wall of muscled chest, she didn’t slow down; she just plowed into him with such force that she knocked him off balance, causing them both to go sailing toward the floor.
All the air was ripped from Brielle’s lungs when she landed on Colt’s chest, her breasts bouncing off him before she settled in and found herself pressed tightly against his body.
Once the shock wore off, a new light entered his eyes — a light Brielle didn’t want to think about. She knew that look, knew exactly what was on his mind. No flipping way.
Too late.
“If you wanted to get me horizontal, all you had to do was ask.”
That was all the warning Brielle got before Colt gripped the back of her neck and pulled her face to his, then gave her the most searing kiss of her life.
Peggy’s store, and the entire town of Sterling, disappeared in a single heartbeat.
Chapter Seven
H ello, Colt. Looking for something?”
Damn. Damn. Damn. It was just getting good. Colt wasn’t happy to release a now horrified Brielle, but the viselike grip he’d had around her waist loosened and she scrambled to her feet as if he were a teeming anthill.
“Morning, Peggy,” he said, not bothering to get up quite yet. Instead, he flipped his hands behind his head and grinned up at the shop’s owner as she scowled down at him.
“This store isn’t your personal brothel, Colt.” One foot was tapping while she rested her hands on her ample hips.
“Aw, Peggy, I just got carried away. What else was I
Ralph Waldo Emerson, Mary Oliver, Brooks Atkinson