Wrangling the Cowboy (Circle B Ranch 3)

She’s been burned by so many douchebags she doesn’t even realize I’m hitting on her. I can’t imagine any guy dumb enough to walk away from Maize, but lucky for me, she’s single, and so am I.

“I’m Gavin, by the way,” I say, holding out my hand and hoping to touch hers again.

“Maize.” She takes the bait, and we shake. “Sorry I’m not more bubbly. You caught me on a rough night.”

“No apologies needed, Maize. Maybe I can cheer you up, though.”

“Oh yeah? With a non-crooked dick pic?” She arches a brow, grinning.

I chuckle, glad she’s not giving me the cold shoulder. Though I’ve never had a problem getting a woman’s attention, it’s not out of the realm of reality. When I was a professional bull rider, women would flock to me, and I’d have to tear them off just to walk through a crowd. But I don’t compete anymore. That life’s behind me now.

“I’m too old to send explicit pictures to women.”

Her eyes lower as she checks me out, then she tilts her head and studies me. “You can’t be that old.”

I suck in my lower lip as I soak in her delicate features. Light blue eyes, dark hair, and pale skin. She’s undoubtedly my type, but something else about her has my blood pumping.

“I’m certain I’m quite older than you,” I counter, taking a swig of my beer. “Why don’t you tell me how old you are?”

“Because it’s embarrassing. Most girls my age are married with a couple of kids already. And me? Well, I’m joining a convent.”

“You’re at least twenty-one, being that you’re in a bar drinking. Definitely not over thirty.” I tilt my head, looking at her eyes, skin, and lips. Fuck, she has the most beautiful face I’ve seen in a long time. “You’re having a quarter-life crisis since, like you said, no husband and no babies. So, I’m gonna guess twenty-five.” If I’m right, that means I’m ten years older than her.

Maize gulps down more of her drink as she watches me in amusement. “Sadly, you’re correct. Well, in a few months.”

I burst out laughing and shake my head. “You have plenty of time. Stop worryin’.”

“That’s so easy for guys to say! My grandma married my grandfather at nineteen, and they had five kids before she was thirty. Five! Granted, one pregnancy was twins, but still. I’m already behind.”

“That was standard tradition thirty, forty, fifty years ago. But now, it’s statistically proven that more couples wait to start their families and focus on their careers first. The average age of having their first baby is thirty. So, you still have plenty of time.”

“Oh okay, so I only need to find a husband, convince him to marry me, get pregnant, and pop out a baby in the next five years. Noted.”

“Or…” I counter, taking a long sip of my beer until it’s empty. “You can just do whatever the fuck you want.” Flashing a smirk, she tilts her lips up in amusement.

Before she can respond, Kenzie returns. “Another round?”

“Yes, ma’am. Keep ’em comin’. Maize and I have a game of pool to play. Loser buys shots.”

“We do?” She furrows her brows as she sucks down the last of her alcohol.

“If you’re gonna be a nun, you need to have as much fun as you can now. So, let’s get started.”

“I like him.” Kenzie beams. “And if you don’t marry him, I’m next in line.”

“Oh, puh-lease. Everyone knows you and Grayson are gonna hate bang and finally admit your true feelings,” Maize states.

“Don’t you dare put that negative energy into the universe.” Kenzie starts waving her arms around as if she’s trying to push it away. “Grayson can go fuck himself for all I care.”

If I knew who Grayson was, I’d be scared for him right now.

“Sounds like man-hating runs in the family.” I grab the bottle Kenzie hands me.

Maize snorts and shakes her head. Once her glass is full again, I grab her hand and lead her to the pool table in the back. The pub is small and offers minimal seating, but I like it. It’s a typical small-town country bar with Texas décor and pictures of cowboys on the walls. However, it’s not loud and crowded, so Maize and I can actually hear each other talk and move around.

“Should I assume you know how to play, or do you need a personal hands-on tutorial?” I ask, setting my beer down. Grabbing two sticks, I hand her one, then pick up the triangle rack.

“You’re quite cocky, you know that?” She bites her lip, and I notice the way her eyes rake down my body as if she wants to eat me like a snack.

“I prefer confident,” I retort. “Though I’ll say most women find that attractive in a man.” I start gathering the balls from the pockets.