Free Cowboy Valentine by Mia Hopkins Page B

at the bar.
    “I’ll see you up at our seats.” Andie turned and left to meet Decker in the VIP area, her perfect brown curls bouncing underneath a bedazzled white cowboy hat.
    Cora folded her arms and glanced at her own reflection in the plate-glass window that separated the bar from the hostess stand.
    Andie was much taller than Cora, so her breathtaking array of jeans and flashy western shirts hadn’t fit. Undaunted, Andie had dug a hot-pink strapless minidress out of the bottom of her suitcase and made Cora put it on.
    “But I don’t have a strapless bra,” Cora had protested.
    “You’ve got great nineteen-year-old boobs, though. That’s more important.” With determination, Andie had yanked the fabric up and given Cora’s bottom a playful spank.
    Here in public, Cora felt naked times ten. She thought that a glamorous cowgirl makeover would make her feel confident, not exposed. Nothing covered her bare shoulders except for the thick mass of dark waves that Andie had steam-curled into her hair. In addition to the tiny dress, Cora wore a big, braided Western-style belt, a bejeweled belt buckle and brown leather cowboy boots that fit perfectly. She blinked but fought the urge to rub her eyes. Andie had done her makeup too—glittery eye shadow and enough mascara to resurface an asphalt driveway.
    With a sigh, Cora braced herself and walked to the bar. A small group of buckle bunnies had converged around the lone cowboy hunched over his beer. The girls were drinking and getting warmed up for a night of debauchery. To his credit, Caleb ignored them as they struggled to get his attention.
    Then he looked up and spotted her. He blinked twice, and his face lit up like a kid’s at Christmas.
    Emboldened by his reaction, Cora lowered her arms, stuck out her chest and walked through the group of girls who eyed her with just enough venom to make her feel a spike of self-satisfaction.
    “Waiting for me?” she asked, lowering her voice and looking up at him through her extra-dark lashes.
    “All my life,” he said, standing up.
    Caleb was on fire. He’d taken off his jacket, but his face felt flushed and he was sweating underneath his clothes. The cold beer had done nothing to quench his thirst. Only the knockout brunette standing before him was capable of that—and even then, he doubted he’d ever get enough of her. Ever.
    He took her hand and kissed it gently. Before she could roll her eyes at him, he pulled her close and kissed her mouth so tenderly that those beautiful eyes slid closed and she collapsed against him. Her tiny moan of pleasure vibrated against his lips, making his entire body clench like a fist.
    Immediately in danger of losing his shit and dragging her into the nearest dark corner to have his way with her, Caleb broke their kiss and looked away. He took out his wallet, dropped a few bills on the bar and put his jacket back on.
    “Let’s get out of here.” His voice had cracked. Embarrassed, he cleared the frog out of his throat, and she smiled at him shyly as though they were on a first date, instead of longtime friends with benefits, instead of lovers, instead of whatever it was they were and whatever he hoped in his heart of hearts they’d become.
    Their seats were so close to the action that they could smell the dirt of the arena, heady and earthy with just a tinge of manure. Caleb watched everything through Cora’s eyes—the pyrotechnics and flash impressed her, and he liked the way her breath caught during the national anthem when the singer hit the high note and sustained it, clean and true. Together they cheered when Decker’s name appeared on the Jumbotron and when Caleb’s brother Dean stepped out into the spotlight with the other two bullfighters.
    “What do the bullfighters do?” asked Cora.
    “Their job’s to protect the riders once they bail out or get bucked off.”
    Cora’s eyes widened. “I don’t know if I could face down a bull like that.”
    Caleb smiled. “My