Free A Cowboy for Christmas by Em Petrova Page B

as a cat in the room full of rocking chairs, but at least she wasn’t avoiding him today. However, she was swamped with sales, and the owner of a chain of food stores in northern California had taken her out to lunch to discuss getting her line on his shelves.
    Dusty had tried like hell not to be jealous of the short, bald man wearing far too many knuckle rings. But he failed miserably. He wanted all her time.
    To kill the hours until she returned, he sold some power drinks to whomever stopped by the booth. It was good PR for both him and Rawhide. When he got bored of that, he left the selling up to Avalee’s assistant and walked out on the town.
    As he passed a shoe store, he slowed. The spike heels were sexy as sin with red soles. A departure from Avalee’s boots, but she’d look damn fine in them—and nothing else.
    Inspiration struck, and he went inside. Five minutes later with his credit card burning from that purchase, he went straight to the theater and bought the best seats for tonight’s show.
    A call to Ryan told him Avalee still wasn’t back from lunch, so Dusty stopped and had a beer with the top bull rider this season. After checking the time on his phone more than once, his friend urged him off. With a bounce in his step and his purchase in hand, he maneuvered through the crowd toward the Rawhide booth. The assistant was out front, ringing up a sale and Ryan was talking up the energy drinks.
    “Where’s Avalee?” Dusty asked.
    He jerked a thumb toward the rear of the booth. Behind the wooden crates display, Dusty caught a hint of warm brown hair. Affection surged through him and he found himself grinning. When he rounded the display, he caught her on her cell.
    “We’ve sold out of the Tin Cup Tack now too. No, Daddy, the Panhandle Pumpkin isn’t moving that well. I know you like that flavor, but…” She threw Dusty a strained look and listened to whatever her father was saying.
    Dusty set down the bag and moved up behind her. Her ass was mighty fine in skin-tight jeans. Her legs looked a mile long tucked into her boots, and she wore a fitted black Rawhide shirt today. The fact it matched the one he was wearing gave him another sort of thrill.
    He burrowed his nose against her fragrant neck and inhaled. She tensed in his hold but didn’t move away. So he kissed a path up to her ear, and then wiggled her earlobe back and forth with his teeth.
    She slapped at him, her voice hitching as she tried to speak to her father. “Of course I’m distracted, Daddy. There are a two thousand people around me. What did you need to talk to me about?”
    With the point of his tongue, Dusty drew little swirls under her jaw. She pinched him hard enough that he started. Laughter bubbled from him, but he kept it on mute while she spoke.
    She went so dead still, he withdrew to see what had happened. He’d never known her to be so rigid.
    A ragged, stuttering breath left her. “So you did see Dusty’s ride last night.” She listened. He wished he could hear what was being said to her, but he had an inkling. Their photo had been thrown on the big screen for all of America to see.
    “Yeah, Daddy. Yes. I know, it was stupid of me.”
    Dusty spun her to look into her eyes. Regret lived there, hot and bright. He held her gaze, daring her to say this was a mistake. She was the best damn thing that’d happened to him in ages.
    He wrapped his fingers around her upper arms. She stood stiffly.
    “I understand. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” When she stabbed a blunt fingernail into her cell, she avoided looking at him.
    Raising her jaw with his knuckle, he said, “Avalee?”
    “He saw it.”
    “Who gives a fuck?”
    She searched his gaze, her own holding a light he didn’t understand but feared. Was she going to tell him they couldn’t see each other anymore? “We have to give a fuck, Dusty. We can’t go on like we have been.”
    He gave a shake of his head. “You’re an adult. You can choose who you’re