“Well?” Bob/Bill shifted enough to block my view of the guy, and I frowned. He was keeping me from staring at the hot guy. What had he asked me? Right, my job.
“Yeah, no.” Such a chauvinistic idiot who didn’t know a bull ball from a bivalve. “That’s a candy striper, and they’re either fifteen years old or eighty, so nothing like that at all. I have bachelor’s and master’s degrees in nursing.” Candy striper, my ass.
When I shifted to get a glimpse of Mr. Cowboy again, he was gone. Of course, he was gone while I was lingering with Mr. Dud with bull ball breath. He’d probably caught up to his girlfriend or wife by now, had a hand at the small of her back, kissed her hello. God, I was wasting my time. Why had I stayed and chatted with a guy who made gross misogynistic assumptions about my profession? I'd worked my ass off for my credentials, and he’d assumed I was qualified to deliver flowers to the sick. I should have fled five minutes ago.
Bob/Bill’s hand sliding down my back and settling on my waist had my mind reengaging. “So, ready to head back to my room upstairs?” He took a sip of his beer and watched me over the glass, felt his fingers squeeze my side through my dress.
My mouth fell open as I stepped back, making his hand fall away. Perhaps I was better at picking up guys than I thought. All I had to do was say yes, and I could get it on with Bob/Bill. I needed serious practice if this man was what my skills roped.
“Are you serious?” I had to laugh, and he looked slightly abashed although not for long.
“Well, yeah.” His gaze raked over my body as he closed in once again. I needed a shower from just the look. “We’ve got a connection.”
Connection? Yeah, right. “Right. Um… listen—”
“Sorry I’m late, baby. This place is so crowded, Paul pointed me in your direction.” I felt a hand on my shoulder before I realized the new voice was talking to me. The surprise contact made me jump, but it didn’t feel creepy and gross like Bob/Bill’s hand had. It felt like… electricity crackling in the air before a thunderstorm. Glancing back, it was Mr. Cowboy smiling at me.
At me!
His brown eyes weren’t just dark, they were almost black and were focused directly, completely, utterly on me. They dropped briefly to my mouth.
I froze in complete surprise and gawked at the man. So did Bob/Bill.
“See, Paul knew just where you were.” He pointed toward my friend on the other side of the room.
Paul gave me a thumbs-up, approving this man showing up and pretending to… to what? Date me? He’d called me baby, and hadn’t that sounded hot as hell?
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Did Paul really know his cousin was a sleaze and was saving me? Obviously. Now. I was too flipping nice. Ugh.
“Thanks for entertaining my girl since I was late.” While he shook Bob/Bill’s hand congenially, Mr. Cowboy’s voice was deep, rough like gravel, and had a tone of get the fuck away from my woman. Bob/Bill winced as I suspected the handshake was a little firmer than friendly. Once he had his hand back, he grimaced as if indigestion had kicked in, perhaps from the Rocky Mountain oysters or from his one-night-stand plans being aborted.
My girl. Oh my God.
“No problem,” Bob/Bill murmured as he shook his hand then stepped back into safer territory and cleared his throat, checking Mr. Cowboy out, picking up on the extra few inches in height—he was easily six-two—thirty extra pounds in weight and a crap load of badass he’d never have. There was no way he was going to argue with the guy. If Bob/Bill was the oyster of the ocean, then Mr. Cowboy was the shark. Barracuda? Wily, treacherous and silently lethal.
Up close, he was even more… manly. Virile. And I was his girl, at least for the moment. Holy shit, he was hot. Dark stubble roughened his jaw, and his hand against my back was warm even through the cotton of my dress. The butterflies in my stomach earlier were now angry bees, and surely, he could see my heart practically beating out of my chest. Unlike Bob/Bill, his gaze hadn’t dropped lower than my chin. It dipped briefly to my mouth again, and my lips parted slightly, trying to catch my breath.
“What were you two talking about when I interrupted?”
He shifted his eyes off me and onto Bob/Bill, who seemed to turn green around the gills, clearly afraid to say. Propositioning this man’s significant other was not good for his health.
“Oh, um…” Bob/Bill grabbed the knot of his tie and wiggled it, finding it extremely tight all of a sudden.
“Oysters,” I said, willing to spare Paul’s cousin a possible slow and merciless death. He was pretty sleazy but harmless enough, especially with Mr. Cowboy, aka the gorgeous cowboy, beside me. Mr. Cowboy somehow made me feel protected, sheltered and safe from any of Bob/Bill’s less honorable intentions. He made me feel… feminine in comparison to his ultra-masculine presence. It could have been that I only came up to his shoulder or that his bicep was the size of my neck.
I darted a brief glance again at Paul across the room. He winked at me then was pulled back into a conversation. He had sent this guy over to save me from Bob/Bill.
“Oh, you like Rocky Mountain Oysters? I’m not that much of a fan of eating fried bull testicles. I’ve cut enough of them off to know what they look like first hand for me to want to eat ‘em.”
“Fried…” Bob/Bill glanced at his plate, swallowed hard.
“You don’t look too good.” Mr. Cowboy gestured with his chin at Bob/Bill who now had beads of sweat dotting his brow to go along with the off pallor. “Ready?” he asked me, his eyes raking over my face and giving me a wink of his own. “I thought we could sit outside for a spell.”
Without waiting for me to answer, he took my hand and all but dismissed Bob/Bill. His hand was so big, mine was all but swallowed up. While I could feel callouses on his palm, his touch was gentle, which was surprising for a man who seemed so… aggressive, as if the calm exterior was just a façade, and he had tension and energy coiled and ready to be unleashed, especially when aimed at a man who bothered me. When his thumb brushed back and forth over the back of my hand, a chill went down my spine.
Ready? To go off with a hunky cowboy?