Free How to Rope a Real Man by Melissa Cutler

palms skyward. “I’m just saying.”
    “I already know what you’re saying. And you know what I’m going to say back. We really ought to start numbering our arguments. Then we could call out ‘Fight Number One’ and be done with it. Think of the energy and time we’d save.”
    Jenna squirmed again. Her eyes fluttered open.
    Looking affectionately exasperated, Tara pushed up from the sofa, brushed imaginary dust from her legs, then walked to Matt’s end of the sofa and crouched.
    “You deserve this,” she whispered close to his ear. “You deserve to be happy.” With another pointed look, she headed to the bathroom.
    Absolutely obnoxious, the way she needed to always have the last word. He was the same way, but still. Sometimes Matt hated being the youngest. The eternal little brother. Everyone in the family thought they had a right to tell him how to live his life. Sometimes, he swore that when they looked at him, they still saw that gangly, awkward kid with the glasses and the too-big ears.
    Matt knew what he needed to be happy. He knew how to take care of himself, and exactly what he deserved and didn’t deserve, meddling big sisters be damned.
    Jenna pulled away from him, taking her warm softness with her. Bummer.
    “Good morning. Sorry I crowded you. You make a good pillow.” Her voice was thick with drowsiness, her hair tousled. The cheek that had been resting against him was rosy. His body stirred to life.
    “I didn’t mind. You made a good blanket.” And the award for the most awkward compliment ever paid to a woman goes to Matt Roenick.
    Jenna grinned and smoothed a hand over her hair. “Is Tara ready to hit the warehouse?”
    They’d completely tapped out the store’s refrigerator and still had two mega arrangements to create, so the plan was to make a quick trip across town to the only wholesale flower supplier in Santa Fe and pray they had what Tara needed. “Just about. If we leave in the next five minutes, we should have enough time to swing by a coffeehouse before the wholesaler opens at six thirty.”
    “Perfect.” She stood, stretching her arms over her head, and Matt had to agree—she looked perfect. Especially the creamy backs of her thighs where the dress pulled up during her stretch. Not that he was trying very hard, but all night long, he hadn’t been able to get his eyes off her legs.
    She’d taken off her boots almost as soon as they’d arrived in the shop, claiming achy feet. She’d doffed her socks as well. Her choice had been a torturous one for a leg man like him because now free of boots and socks, her thin, tan, gorgeous legs seemed to stretch for miles and ended in pretty, white-tipped toenails that matched her fingers.
    Who knew he had a thing for nail polish? He’d certainly never given it much thought before. But now, he couldn’t stop imagining polished fingers wrapping around him and polished toes tangling with his legs while he rose above her.
    Swallowing a growl, he pushed off the sofa, snatched her boots and socks from the corner, and delivered them to her. Then he walked away before he was tempted to sit back down and watch her put them on. A man could only take so much.
    In a matter of minutes, they’d locked Carpe Diem’s door and assembled at Tara’s van.
    “Toss me the keys. I’ll drive,” Matt said.
    The look Tara shot him would’ve wilted a lesser man. “You think I’m going to let you drive my van? Because, what, you’re a man? Out of my way.”
    It had been worth a try. He much preferred being a driver to being a passenger. Apparently, Tara felt the same.
    Jenna stood there grinning like crazy.
    He offered her a mock-defensive scowl in return. “What? You gonna tease me now too?”
    She shook her head. “My big sisters won’t let me drive either. Rachel still reminds me about what a terror I was behind the wheel when she was teaching me to drive. As if I’m still that young and irresponsible.”
    He opened the passenger door for her.