by BA Tortuga
“Most of your friends are young, hot cowboys, I bet.” Kitty’s cheeks were pinking, too.
“Shit. We ain’t that young.” This was getting ridiculous. George Strait came on the sound system and Ace stood. “You dance?”
“If you can lead, I can follow.” She slipped the heels back on, then took his hand.
“I’m not bad.” He was no Andy Baxter, who could dance a lady right out of her shoes, but he could cut a rug. He pulled Kitty close and got the rhythm in his head before two-stepping her around the floor.
The lady was about as lean as Jason Scott—damn near bird-like in his arms—and he worried about hurting her just by holding her. Kitty didn’t seem to worry about that at all, proving she could follow along, easy as pie. She smelled right, like honey and citrus and a hint of musk.
They took a moment or two to really get settled, but suddenly he wound his arm around her waist, and his other hand held hers, and her hips were lined up in the cradle of his, her feet moving like they were attached to the toes of his boots. She relaxed in his arms—as if she did this every day, leaned into the swing of it and trusted him to move her around. He kind of hoped she didn’t do it every day, though, as this was the first time she’d done it with him.
They two-stepped to three songs, then the music slowed, turning to a belt-buckle polisher.
Ace held her close, noticing that their food hadn’t come. Then he rested his cheek on her head, keeping his hat right out of the way.
“You smell like heaven.” She felt fine as frog hair against him, soft and warm.
“Just Old Spice.” Some big old fragrance company had offered him his own smell-good, but he’d never been able to give up the white bottle.
“My dad used to wear that, when he was going out to dinner. It smells better on you.”
“Thanks.” She smelled fine, too, and felt amazing in his arms. She was stronger than she looked, not near as delicate. “You’re a fine dancer, lady.”
“Thank you. You make it easy.”
The waitress put their food on the table, nodded at him, smiled.
Ace winked at the girl over Kitty’s shoulder, but didn’t end the dance until the song was over. He had ahold of the hottest thing he’d seen in years. Onions and wings could wait.
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About the Author
Texan to the bone and an unrepentant Daddy’s Girl, BA spends her days with her basset hounds, getting tattooed, texting her sisters, and eating Mexican food. When she’s not doing that, she’s writing. She spends her days off watching rodeo, knitting and surfing Pinterest in the name of research. BA’s personal saviors include her wife, Julia, her best friend, Sean, and coffee. Lots of good coffee.
Email: [email protected]
BA loves to hear from readers. You can find her contact information, website and author biography at http://www.totallybound.com.
Also by BA Tortuga
Roughstock Sweethearts: City Country
Top of the Leader Board: Ace and Kitty
