What is she doing in my barn?
Rodeo and the ranch are supposed to stay in their own lanes—two completely different worlds that don't cross paths, don't mess with each other, and sure as heck don't create the kind of trouble that's standing in front of me right now with that smile that's making my brain forget how to work.
She's got a bucket of what looks like specialty grain, which just adds to the pile of questions I can't answer. My gaze slides down her frame before I can stop it—taking in those curves, the way her jeans fit, every inch of trouble wrapped up in denim. When I finally get my eyes back where they belong, she's watching me with a look that's equal parts knowing and daring, and all kinds of dangerous.
"I don't care one bit about your bloodlines, sweetheart," I hear myself say, my voice coming out husky. "What I want to know is, are you looking for a good time with a cowboy?”
I catch the way her breath hitches just enough to let me know the line landed exactly where I aimed it. But there's something else there too.
I silently curse again.
She's calling my bluff without saying a word.
Nine
THE SCENT OF LEATHER AND SOAP SURROUNDS ME AS WYATT LEANS IN.
KINSLEY
Am I looking for a good time with a cowboy?
Yes, please—a traitorous voice answers in my head. I mentally slap it silent with the image of Brittney sprawled across Wyatt's bare chest. I'm sure he used that same line on her, and she fell all over herself to be with him. Well, I'm no buckle bunny.
"I..." I trip over the word. "I'm here about my horse."
Smooth. Real smooth.
This cannot be happening. Wyatt Halloway is supposed to be three states away, riding bulls and breaking hearts. He is absolutely not supposed to be standing in front of me looking like a cowgirl's dream.
His gaze flicks to the grain bucket, then back to my face, his cocky half-smile deepening. "This isyourhorse." The wayhe says it sounds like a question and caress all at once. "Well now, that's even more interesting."
I can practically see him shifting into charm mode as he steps closer, close enough that I catch the scent of leather and soap and something purely him. "And here I thought Grandpa was losing his mind, buying a barrel horse for a cattle operation."
The way he moves is deliberate, calculated. He knows exactly what he's doing.
And I know exactly what he's doing.
But somehow that doesn't make it any less effective.
"Don't worry," I say, fighting to keep my voice steady. "We're only here temporarily while I'm working in the area."
"Working." His voice drops to that low register that does things to my pulse.
I'm not buying what you're selling, I think even as I count the cash in my pocket.
"Consulting work," I manage, and immediately want to kick myself for how breathless I sound.
Someone clears their throat and we both turn. Sarah Halloway stands in the breezeway wearing pressed slacks and a crisp white shirt. The knowing look on her face makes my stomach drop.
"Hello, you two," she says. "Wyatt, I see you've met Kinsley Rose, my new political advisor."
The words hit like a bomb.
Wyatt's head whips toward me. "You hiredher?" The question comes out strangled.
Sarah's eyebrows rise. "You know each other?"
"We've met," I say, praying she doesn't think I'm one of his rodeo conquests. "At the rodeo in Cheyenne."