“Then she abruptly pulls over into a rest area. No blinker, no heads up, just a hard, right jerk of the wheel that makes the car’s bald tires squeal. She needs new treads, and I make a mental note to see it done. I have no idea why she’s stopping. Maybe she’s just plain tired of my riding her ass. That’s fine with me, but I’m not done with us. She doesn’t get to run from me this time. Slamming the truck door, I stride toward the picnic table where she’s waiting. Before she can move, I sl...ap my hands down on either side of her, caging her body between my arms and the table. A distant part of my brain—the logical part that isn’t turned upside down and inside out by this infuriating, fascinating, wonderful woman—warns me that this isn’t my best idea. Rose Jordan doesn’t need or want a Neanderthal cowboy. She doesn’t get what she wants today. Boo-fucking-hoo. “I didn’t ask Auntie Dee to remember me in her will,”MoreLessRead More Read Less
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