To Save Sir (Doms of Decadence 7)
“Don’t know. It’s probably some city fool who panicked when they realized there’s no cell service and took off on foot to get help.”
“Let’s hope they don’t get lost or we’ll be searching for them half the night. What kind of fool drives a car like this on these roads?”
Max moved out from the back of the car and held up a huge, white wedding dress. “A female one, I’d say.”
Savannah had heard enough. As soon as she’d seen the truck coming, she’d dived into the small ditch at the side of the road. She wasn’t going to end up a victim. But she couldn’t just sit here and listen to these two cowboys call her a fool and watch them go through her stuff!
She climbed out of the ditch and strode towards them. “Put the dress down, asshole, and back away.”
The look of shock on the big cowboy’s face would have been funny under other circumstances, but she was not in a laughing mood today. He d
ropped her very expensive, one-of-a-kind, designer dress in the dirt.
“No! Not right there.” She leaped for the dress and pulled it up, beating at the dust.
The cowboy just stared at her. He opened his mouth then closed it. gazed up at him, noting how cute he was. Tanned skin, brown eyes, a few days’ worth of growth on his cheeks.
Alistair shaved twice a day. He liked to boast that his skin was as soft as a baby’s. She’d always been slightly repulsed by that. But this man wouldn’t have smooth skin. She bet his hands were hard and callused, his body firm with muscle. A flush of heat filled her body.
His eyes narrowed, and he studied her. Oh, hell. He couldn’t tell she found him attractive, right? Nah, she had an excellent poker face.
“I’ll pay to get it cleaned,” he finally said.
“I’m thinking about burning it. You wouldn’t need to get it cleaned if I did that.”
His eyes widened.
“I had this idea about stuffing it full of straw, throwing it on a bonfire and roasting marshmallows while videoing the whole damn thing. But realistically I’ll probably just sell it for a fraction of what it cost my mother to buy it. She was the one who wanted this dress anyway. Personally, I think it’s a bit over the top. I mean, I can’t burn a twenty-five-thousand-dollar dress just because Alistair is an asshole, right?”
She looked down at the dress. “I also thought about chopping it up, and each week I’d send him a piece in the mail, but then I figured that might be considered harassment and I don’t want to go to jail. I’ve only just regained my freedom.”
“Freedom?” another voice asked.
With a squeal, she turned, placing her hand over her racing heart. The dress nearly fell from her hands, and she dragged it back up. The damn thing weighed a ton.
“Where did you come from?” she squeaked up at the huge man looming over her. He had to be at least a foot taller than she was. He glared down at her. She glared back. She didn’t know why he was so grumpy she was the one he’d nearly given a heart attack.
“I’ve been standing here the whole time. You brushed right past me.”
“Oh.” She had? “Sorry I didn’t notice you. I was focused on my dress. I promise it’s not because you’re not memorable or anything. I’m sure I would have noticed you eventually.”
“I’m not so sure,” he muttered.
She frowned slightly, uncertain what he meant.
“Well?” he asked.
“Well, what?” Jeez, he was in a bad mood. Still, she guessed nobody liked to be overlooked. She wasn’t sure how she’d missed him. He was even taller than the other cowboy, and, boy, those shoulders. She’d always had a thing for wide shoulders. And hands. She loved a man’s hands.
Well, not Alistair’s hands. They’d been as soft as the rest of him.
She sighed. She wasn’t being fair. She was sure Alistair would make someone a very good husband.
If that someone liked lying, rat-bastard, selfish, cheating assholes.
“Hello? You okay?”
The extra-big cowboy waved his hand in front of her face.