Crazy Stupid Love (Dirty Dicks 3)

Her TV is on, but the volume is turned down, and the coffee table is littered with books and papers.

When I turn to face Adley, I’m hit by the magnetic pull I always feel when we’re in the same room. Except this time it’s stronger, more pronounced. Or maybe I’ve just finally let my guard down enough to notice its potency. She’s never been able to lie to me; her body gives her away every single time. It’s the way she reacts to me, the rise and fall of her chest, the hungry look in her eyes and the rapid pulse at the base of her neck.

It’s primitive and real.

I’m used to women drooling over me. It’s part of the bull-rider life. Women love cowboys. They want tight jeans and a scruffy face—someone rugged, someone they think they can tame and fix. They want the fame and the buckle—both of which I no longer have.

But Adley is different. She doesn’t want to be a buckle bunny on the arm of a world champion bull rider. She doesn’t care about sponsors, or my income, or my lack of position with the PBR. For some reason, she just wants me.

At least I think she does.

If only she wouldn’t have taken off this morning before we had a chance to talk about it.

“I don’t like the way you talked to me on the phone.” Adley’s hands are on her hips.

Her grey sweatshirt is two sizes too big, leaving her left shoulder exposed, and I’m hoping we can get past this quickly so I can get my mouth on all of that creamy skin. She’s also sporting an impressive scowl.

She’s pissed.

Good, I am too.

“Why did you run from me?”

“I didn’t run. I had a study group.”

Hands fisted at my sides, I look around. “Really? Then what are you doing home?”

“For your information, they canceled at the last minute. I haven’t been home in a while, so I thought I should check on the place. Once I was here, I didn’t exactly feel like driving an hour back to your house.”

“You could’ve called or sent me a text—”

“I left you a note.”

“That wasn’t a note. You could’ve woken me up and said goodbye. After our conversation last night, I expected more than waking up to cold sheets and a note you didn’t bother to sign.”

Guilt flickers behind her big eyes, along with a flash of insecurity. “I wasn’t sure you’d remember what we talked about.”

“Is that it? Or maybe what we talked about scared you. Maybe you ran because all of the sudden shit got real, and you didn’t know how to handle it.” My voice rises with each word, and Adley shakes her head.

“That’s not true.”

“Really?”

“You were drunk, Lincoln. People say things when they’re drunk.”

I back her up against the wall. Her body relaxes against mine as I press a hand to the wall on either side of her head, caging her in. “I may have had one too many drinks in me, but I knew what I was saying.”

Her warm breath fans against my face, and I lean in to her, needing to feel her body against mine.

“I was worried that you’d wake up oblivious to what we’d talked about, or worse yet, you’d decide you hadn’t meant it.”

“Last night was probably the most real moment we’ve ever shared, and I meant every word I said.”

“You’re scared?”

Taking a breath, I nod.

“Of what? Besides me—that answer isn’t good enough.”