Free The Trouble With Cowboys by Denise Hunter Page B

came by and ruffled the boy’s hair, then pulled Sierra into his chest, laughing, and kissed her cheek. Anothercowboy. Heaven help her. It would be a miracle if Annie got her safely through college. She was a bright girl, had gotten her GED in record time, and got good grades in college—when she applied herself.
    Sierra backed away enough to snap a picture of Riley with the camera dangling from her neck.
    A body plopped down next to her. Annie had a polite smile ready, but it wasn’t John who nudged her shoulder.
    “How’s my girl?” Dylan’s brown eyes twinkled and little lines flared toward his temples.
    Annie leaned away, ignoring the impressive somersault her heart performed. She rolled her eyes. “Hi, Dylan.”
    “Not happy to see me?”
    “My heart is all aflutter.” She pulled her knees into her chest.
    “That’s more like it.”
    “Better find a seat, it’s filling up fast.”
    He smiled flirtatiously. “That your way of getting rid of me?”
    She sighed and looked away, cracking her knuckles. She could not win with him. And she didn’t like the way his shoulder was rubbing hers or the way his breath fanned her cheek. He was entirely too close.
    “I make you nervous,” he taunted, a smile in the low drawl of his voice.
    She stiffened. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you.”
    There was a beat of silence. A breeze whispered by, carrying the scent of him, musk and leather.
    “I think I would, Miss Annie.”
    His words, or maybe it was his breath stirring her hair, sent a shiver up her spine. She drew her knees in tighter.
    “You’re in my spot, Taylor.”
    She hadn’t noticed John’s approach and felt her face warming, though she’d done nothing wrong.
    “Howdy, John.” Dylan took his time standing. “Just keeping your girl company.”
    John’s girl, Dylan’s girl. How swiftly he changed. It really was just a great big game to him. She’d do well to remember that and stop getting caught up in the way he made her feel. In the way he made her insides heat, and the way his nearness pebbled the skin on her arms.
    “See ya around, Annie.” Dylan tossed her a wink.
    Player . She frowned at his retreating back as John settled next to her, his slim shoulder bumping hers. She waited for the gooseflesh, tried to manufacture just a pebble or two.
    Nothing. She wondered briefly if Dylan was her Mr. Darcy. Good grief, she hoped not.
    “What’d he want?” John handed her the lemonade as she watched Dylan skirting people and blankets on his way toward the stage. He couldn’t get three inches without someone stopping him.
    “Not much. I’m still helping him with that horse.” She hadn’t mentioned the help he was giving her on the column.
    “Well, if you ask me, he’s overly friendly with you. Want me to say something?”
    She had an instant image of John up in Dylan’s face. ’Course, he’d have to get on tiptoe.
    “That’s just Dylan’s way. He’ll chase anything in a skirt.” Case in point, Marla Jenkins, who just pulled him down on her blanket. And she actually was wearing a skirt, unlike Annie, who hadn’t worn anything but jeans for as long as she could remember.
    “Yeah, well, he’d better keep his distance if he knows what’s good for him.” John sniffed loudly, a punctuation mark on his threat.
    Dylan settled on a blanket with Travis, Shay, Wade, Abigail,and their kids. Thank goodness she’d refused Shay’s offer to share a blanket. What a miserable night that would’ve been.
    Marla plopped down next to Dylan, sitting close. So he had another date with Marla. What was that? Three? Must be a record.
    John began talking about the town square property and how the town had acquired it—some admirable feat of his uncle, so he had every detail and shared each one with glee.
    When the Silver Spurs struck up their first tune, Annie was relieved that the volume made talking difficult, and when John slipped his arm around her shoulders, she forced herself to relax into his