She has what he needs ... in every sense of the word.
Evan Ross is desperate. If he fails to acquire a few specific properties for his boss, he'll lose everything he owns. Standing between him and his salvation? One rebellious, stubborn, and sexy-as...
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Evan tossed his cowboy hat on the passenger's seat of his "borrowed" truck, then rubbed his hands together.
Hot damn. For once, I'm not last in line. For once, I win.
In Dallas, a damsel in distress on the side of the road would attract a dozen or more guys within seconds, followed by a pissing contest to impress the beautiful woman. And those types of contests he wouldn't bother with.
Hot to trot to follow Dani and learn more about the country foxette, he buckled up and started the engine. The Ram 3500 rumbled from side to side, chugging as loud as an eighteen-wheeler.
At first, he hated the beast. In city traffic, the behemoth wasn't as nimble as his muscle car. Once on the interstate, the bulky dimensions faded away. Cars getting the hell out of his way also helped smooth over his opinion.
Evan seized the steering wheel and then promptly retracted them. "Phew." Any remaining dirt on his hands hadn't transferred to Chad's lush ivory leather.
Thank goodness. I don't need him blowing a gasket over dirt.
He rolled the truck forward and made the same U-turn as Dani. They headed in the direction he had originally been going before spotting her on the ground wresting with the spare tire. The Metroplex by no means suffered a lack of attractive ladies, but upon seeing Dani up-close, he was so glad he turned around.
Under her faded denim shirt and wide-brimmed hat, her wholesome beauty blazed so raw, so hot, so alluring, he was a goner right then and there.
The bumper sticker Texas Grown on her dented tailgate wasn't lying one bit. She qualified as one hundred percent Texan—tough, independent, but more importantly, she knew her way around a toolbox!
More often than not in the big city, he found women played the poor me card to perfection. And the men? They ate that shit up. It boosted their male egos while opening the door to a possible score.
He didn't.
To Evan, girls holding up porcelain hands and lamenting about not wanting to ruin their purrr-dy polished nails came off as contrive and annoying. He loved how Dani dug right in. Her hands and short nails getting all dirty with him as they fixed the flat together.
True team work was refreshing as an ice cold beer on a hot sweltering day.
Her hands... nothing. What about her yummy ass? Hub-ba-da, hub-ba-da. Low-rise jeans never looked so fucking seductive.
His fingers ached to cop a feel of her heart-shaped butt. His Johnson throbbed at the thought of disappearing into her full mounds of flesh.
And best of all—she wore no wedding ring or had a tan line of one.
A couple of miles down the road, she turned into a gravel parking lot. A weathered sign declared they had entered Smitty's Real Pit BBQ.
She parked in front of a quaint shack where plumes of smoke billowed from a smokestack. Evan parked next to her and stepped out. A meat smog rolled slowly along the rusty metal roof until the light breeze lifted it into the clear Texas sky.
