For some reason, I don’t want him to know I’m here to stay. Out of fear, perhaps. The way I react to him, I’ve never experienced this before. I’ve never had feelings for a guy I don’t even know the name of.
“I’m visiting,” I lie lightly. “My friend’s uncle lives here.”
His gaze sharpens slightly. Like he knows I’m not telling the whole truth.
“Town like this,” he murmurs, “visitors don’t usually last long.”
I lift a brow. “Why’s that?”
His jaw flexes, and something dark flickers in his eyes. “Cowboys tend to cause trouble.”
My lips curve before I can stop them. “And you? Do you cause trouble?”
A beat passes. Then he leans in slightly, voice rough against my ear. He even smells divine. “I’m the one who fixes it.”
A shiver slides down my spine. My gut tells me that he is the most dangerous man in this bar.
But standing this close?
I don’t want to run. I’m pulled toward him instead.
Like touching fire just to see what happens. I’ve never really had to make my own decisions in life. My parents did it for me. But here? Here I can be the woman I always wanted to be.
The confident girl who goes after what she wants. The one who can have fun without worrying about who is watching her.
The girl who gets the man. Or in this case, the cowboy who has her panties soaking.
He straightens slowly, eyes dropping briefly to the diamond necklace at my throat before meeting mine again.
And something changes in his expression. It softens. Just a fraction. Almost like he’s having the same internal debate I am.
“I’m Hunter,” he says, holding out his hand.
And I freeze. Staring at his rough, tattooed hand like it might bite me. Maybe I want him to bite me. Or my ass.
He smirks as my eyes meet his. “Do you have a name, city girl?” he drawls out.
The second I place my hand in his, sparks shoot down my arm. I don’t pull away, I lean into the feeling.
Like I’m alive.
“Guess,” I tease.
He runs his tattooed hand over his dark stubble, his eyebrow arching. “I don’t need to guess. I’ll get it out of you eventually.”
I blink at him. His confidence is hot. Everything about him is. I almost combust as he leans in towards me. I don’t think I’m even breathing properly.
“My advice, though, stay away from cowboys,” he says quietly.
He reaches for the bucket of beers, then pauses, leaning in once more, his stubble brushing my ear.
“Fireflies look real pretty at night,” he murmurs. “But they still get themselves burned.”
My breath catches.
He pulls back, dark blue eyes holding mine one last second.
“Careful, firefly.”