Free One Night Stand by Parker Kincade

head. He stood watching her, arms crossed over his chest. “What?” she asked, wide-eyed. “It’s not like I have a lot of experience with the morning-after thing. I was trying to give you an out.”
    “I’m not looking for an out,” he snapped, swiping his jeans from the floor. “I say we make our own rules.”
    “Really?” She didn’t mean to sound so hopeful.
    “Really. Jake can handle the bar. I don’t have any pressing business and I’d like to spend some time with you.” He stalked closer. “Unless you want an out.”
    She shook her head. “I’d like to spend some time with you too.” She pressed her hands to her stomach as it grumbled again. “Starting with food.” She took his hand and started from the room. She gave him a sexy smile over her shoulder. “But first we need clothes.”
    “You keep looking at me like that, baby, and clothes will be a long time coming,” he warned, swatting her on the ass.
    Her stomach clenched with a need far greater than food. She tossed him another smile. “Breakfast can wait.”

Chapter 7
    As far as weeks went, Samantha figured this one ranked a ten on the suck-ass scale. It wasn’t so much that her apartment had been broken into. Okay, it was a little bit about that, but not as much as it was about Caleb Martin and his arrogant, dumbass idea that she couldn’t take care of herself. Hell, she’d been taking care of herself for practically her whole life. Her parents sure hadn’t had anything to do with it. She snorted with disgust at the thought of her mother pretending to be anything except her father’s lapdog. Sit, stay, heel. Obey, obey, obey. That was all her so-called father knew, and her mother fell in line. And now it seemed Caleb was taking a page from her father’s book of irritating.
    What she needed was a release. Something to take her mind off all the drama that seemed to be her life lately. First her office, now her apartment. The bastard was getting desperate; she could feel it.
    She eyed herself in the bathroom mirror. She’d attempted to tame her wild mass of deep auburn curls into a subtle French braid. However, the unruly locks had a mind of their own and wisps of hair fell around her face in what she decided was sexy dishevelment. Nothing wrong with looking a little tousled.
    Her simple black tank top was tight across her breasts, showing off just the right amount of cleavage as well as being short enough to expose the glittering gem dangling from her belly button. Her low-riding jeans only added to the wealth of toned and tanned skin she had on display. Studded rhinestones sparkled against the faded denim that trailed down into her most comfortable pair of cowgirl boots. Not her favorite choice of footwear, but this was Texas after all.
    Country music drifted through the door as she leaned into the mirror to add a touch of gloss to her lips. She looked nothing like the lawyer she was, which was precisely her goal. She’d come to get her groove on and maybe to find a good-looking cowboy who wanted to join her back at the hotel she was temporarily calling home.
    Pleased with her reflection, she left the bathroom and worked her way toward the bar. There were no bar stools here, only a brass rail running the length of the base for those who needed a place to rest their boots.
    “Shot of tequila,” she said to the bartender and slapped a twenty on the bar.
    “It’s on me,” she heard from her left as a hand reached over and slid her money back to her.
    She turned to see a very young, very handsome cowboy smiling wickedly at her. She looked him over from his black cowboy hat to his beat-up, well worn shitkickers and had to stop herself from yelling, “Jackpot!” Instead, she played it cool. “You old enough to be in here, son?” she asked.
    He actually blushed and kicked his boot against the rail. Sam wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d busted out with an “Aw shucks, ma’am.” Instead, he just kept smiling at her. And