Ripley
Boone’s wordsrepeat on a loop in the back of my mind as I sit in the passenger seat of his giant crew-cab pickup heading downtown to get Esteban.
“Don’t worry, sugar. We’ll start with a soft opening.”
Oh. My. God.
I shift in my seat, trying to pretend the idea isn’t physically affecting me.
Boone glances over, a smirk on his face, and I can tell I’m doing a terrible job. He doesn’t have to say a word for me to know that we’re thinking about the same thing. When he stops at the red light on the exit ramp, he leans over and snakes a hand behind my neck to draw me closer before taking my lips in a hard kiss.
He pulls back when horns honk behind us because the light has turned green.
“They’re lucky we’ve got something to do. I could get lost in your lips for hours. Puttin’ that on my priority list real soon.”
And that sends a rush of heat that takes up residence between my legs.
Gah. What is it about this guy?
It’s not like he says all the right things, because he absolutelydoes not.But somehow, the things he does say affect me in a way that no one else has before.
He’s crass. Bold. Straightforward.
None of those things should be new to me because crass, bold, and straightforward are what you get when you grow up working in a bar. But there’s something else. Maybe it’s the no-bullshit factor. Boone shoots straight with me, and despitewhathe is, I trust him. That’s a big one for me. After my mama betrayed our family with Gil, and Pop constantly lied about drinking until he finally stopped giving a shit, and then I had to deal with my cousin’s endless tattling, trust isn’t something I find easy to give.
But with Boone, I don’t see any ulterior motives. Is that why I’m breaking my rule for him?
With Frisco, I wasn’t even tempted. Maybe because I could tell he was never serious, and me saying no to him was always more of a game. Plus, there was never the spark. But with Boone, it’s more than a spark—it’s an inferno threatening to burn down the entire town. And yet, there’s something else.
For the first time in my life, I made a completely selfish decision. This thing, whatever we have, is forme.To hell with Pop, Brandy, the bar, and everything else, because I’ve gone too long without doing something solely for myself.
On top of that, something about Boone has me letting my guard down in a way I never thought possible. He’s turned the stereotype I’ve held on to for so long on its head, and shown me that he’s more than an entitled asshole with a record deal and tour buses. He’s a guy who keeps showing me he actually gives a shit about me, and goes out of his way to prove it.
I’m not walking into this blind, though, and there’s no way I’m dropping my guard completely, but I think it’s time I take a risk on something that feelsright, regardless of the consequences. Because when Boone tells me he’s going to take care of things, I actually believe him, and something about that is incredibly seductive.
Maybe I should go back to not thinking about why I’m going against my hard-and-fast rule. That’s easier than trying to justify it to myself.
Boone interrupts my thoughts with a question as we get closer to the Fishbowl.
“You got a plan for how you want this birdnapping to go down?”
I shoot him a sidelong glance. “Birdnapping? Really?”
“Just callin’ it what it is. The bird ain’t yours, but we’re taking it whether they like it or not. What else do you want to call it?”
“Bird rescue.” To my own ears, I sound determined and defiant.
“Still can’t believe you talked me into this.” Boone’s tone carries a hint of exasperation.
I shift in my seat again as I remember what I promised him in return.
“You help me get Esteban out of the bar, and I’ll let you do whatever kind of opening you want on my back door.”
I’m not even sure what to call that. I officially offered up my anal virginity to a guy for helping me steal a bird.
Desperate times.
My brain smacks me down.Quit lying to yourself, girl. You’d let him conquer your virgin territory without any kind of bargain at all.