Hillbilly Rockstar (Blacktop Cowboys 6)

Don’t look at Devin. Don’t look at Devin.

“What happened?” he asked, as if he didn’t already know.

“Liberty’s client said a bunch of mean things about her appearance before he hired her, and he demanded she—”

“It doesn’t matter,” Liberty interjected. “It’s part of my job to be a chameleon. Can we drop it, please?”

“Fine. But I still think it was rude. There’s nothing wrong with you. You’re a beautiful, strong woman who doesn’t need to change for any man.” Harper got a little choked up on the last part.

Liberty’s eyes started to water. Her little sister had such a tender heart and she was so fierce in protecting those she loved.

“I couldn’t agree more,” Devin said softly.

She finally looked at him. In his eyes, she saw regret and embarrassment. The part of her that he’d hurt with those words said Good. The part of her that had fallen in love with him wanted to soothe him because now she understood where those words had come from—his pride and sense of self-preservation.

Bran handed Harper a napkin.

She dabbed her eyes. “Goodness. I don’t know why I’m so teary-eyed today.”

“Princess, you know exactly why you’re actin’ all emotional. Maybe you oughta share our news with your sister?”

“Bran, we agreed to wait. It’s so early.”

“Tate, buddy, you wanna grab me a book to read for naptime?” Bran said.

Tate hopped down and tore out of the dining room. Jake perked up and followed.

Liberty grinned and let her gaze drop to Harper’s flat belly. “Another one?”

“Yes. We weren’t trying, but, yeah . . . it happened.”

Bran smirked. “We weren’t not tryin’ at every opportunity either, sweet wife.”

“See what I mean? I’m surrounded by testosterone. I’m surprised we don’t have more kids.”

Devin high-fived Bran. “Nice goin’.”

Harper rolled her eyes.

“Come on, guitar slinger.” Liberty stood. “Let’s hit the road.”

After they said their good-byes, Devin said, “Where’s your car?”

“In the garage.”

She backed out and pulled up to the house. She popped the trunk. Before she could get out, Devin loaded their bags and climbed in.

“So I get to ride in your baby?”

“Only if you swear the bottom of your boots are cow shit free.”

Devin laughed. “I changed shoes, and I promise they’re clean.”

Liberty putted down the long driveway.

“Why’re you goin’ so slow? I wanna see you rip it up.”

“On gravel? Are you crazy? Do you know what that’ll do to the paint job?”

She did open it up when they hit the blacktop. Fuck, she loved this car.

Devin didn’t whoop and holler and compliment her race-car driving skills. He was strangely quiet. Then he said, “Take the next left.”

“That’s not how you get to Rawlins.”

“I know. The turn’s about a quarter mile ahead.”

“Devin—”

“Liberty, it’s been five days. I’m not waitin’ until we get to Rawlins to touch you. Hell, I thought I was doin’ good waitin’ five minutes. Take the next left.”

She slowed and turned onto a gravel road, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye. He’d balled his hands into fists, like he didn’t trust himself not to maul her.

Her stomach cartwheeled. Everything about him was so controlled, yet she knew he’d overwhelm her, own her, when he finally let loose.

“There’s a place to pull over just on the other side of those trees.”

She focused on driving. Not on the heat of his gaze skating across her body. Not on his rapid breathing. Not on how fast her blood flowed, making her ni**les hard and her sex throb. She wanted—no, she needed—him in a way she never had before. It scared her.

The next turn was little more than a glorified goat path. She parked on a grassy area beneath a stand of cottonwood trees and shut the car off.

A cool breeze drifted through the open windows, carrying the scent of water. Bugs buzzed in the grass and the trees.

“Liberty.”

“What?”

“Baby, let go of the steering wheel and look at me.”

She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“Because it’s been five f**king days. Because I’m afraid I’ll attack you. Rip your clothes and possibly tear the leather seat to shreds.”

His warm, dry hand curled over hers on the steering wheel. “We’ll go slow.”

“Okay.”

He gently pried her fingers free, one at a time. “Breathe, sweetheart.”

She nodded.

Then he was brushing her hair from her face, and his rough knuckles stroked her cheek. Steady. Gentle yet insistent.

Liberty turned her head, and before she could say a word, his mouth was on hers in a sweet kiss. A searching kiss. A kiss that soothed. A kiss that inflamed.

Then she was on his lap, one of his hands gripping the hair on the back of her head, the other pressed against her chest. He kissed her like he owned her, like he’d never get enough of her, like just kissing her alone would be enough to sustain him.

But she got a crick in her neck and pulled back. “Ow.”

“What?” he panted against her throat.