by Addison Fox
“And if I remember right, it’s your turn to take him home,” Mac McBride said to Clay.
“No way, I took him in my truck last Saturday night,” Clay protested.
“Well, I’m pretty sure it isn’t my turn,” Mac replied with a huff.
As the men argued about who would take the passed-out cowboy home and put him to bed, a plan quickly formulated in Janis’s head.
You can’t do that, a little voice whispered. It would be too wicked. It’s a totally crazy idea.
But maybe it would prove a point with Sawyer. Maybe it would be exactly what he needed.
“Why don’t you all carry him into the back room and put him in my bed?” she said before she could second-guess herself.
“For real?” Clay’s blue eyes stared at her in surprise.
“For real,” she replied. “I’d sure like to make him see that he’s got a problem with his drinking. Maybe if he thinks he flirted with me all night and then wound up in my bed, he’ll think twice about drinking himself into a stupor again.”
“It’s a great idea,” Flint replied.
“A totally awesome idea,” Clay agreed with a laugh.
Minutes later, the men had settled their tab and Sawyer had been carried into the back room Janis called home. The big, tall, cowboy didn’t even blink an eye as they laid him in the middle of her lavender sheets.
Clay tossed Sawyer’s brown hat onto one of the wooden posts of the four-poster bed.
“I’ll see to it that he gets home in the morning,” she said. “And this will be our little secret, at least for a day or two.”
“Absolutely,” Clay replied, his blue eyes sparkling with humor. “We won’t say a word until you tell him the truth.”
As they walked out into the bar area, regret instantly filled the back of her throat. Who did she think she was? Who was she to teach Sawyer Quincy any kind of a lesson?
Still, she hated the way the others made fun of him. From everything she’d heard, and from her own experience, she knew he was a terrific guy.
She suspected he had some kind of allergy to something in beer. There was nothing else to explain the fact that after two or three beers he completely passed out to the world.
Now it was too late to halt what she’d already put in motion. All the men had left and Sawyer was in her bed.
It was just after two when she locked up the bar for the night and returned to her room to discover that he hadn’t moved an inch.
It was a vision out of her wildest fantasies...only, in her fantasies, he was always conscious and gazing at her with adoring eyes.
She grabbed a nightgown out of one of her dresser drawers and headed into the small bathroom for a quick shower.
When she re-entered the bedroom, she knew exactly what she was going to do. It was definitely wicked—it was totally naughty—but she hoped to prove a point and, in doing so, she had to make it all look as real as possible.
She stood next to the bed and stared down at him. He had rugged features. His face was suntanned from the outside work he did and yet the fine lines that feathered outward from the corners of his eyes were definitely laugh lines. His eyelashes were thick and long, and a hint of whiskers darkened his lower, strong jaw.
Her gaze swept across his broad shoulders beneath his brown-plaid, button-up shirt. “In for a penny,” she whispered to herself and then leaned over to unbutton his shirt.
She had it unfastened and had managed to maneuver one of his arms out of the sleeve when he mumbled something unintelligible.
She froze, her heart thumping madly. He immediately quieted again. She waited a minute and then drew in a deep breath and rolled him over to get the other arm out of the shirt.
She eyed the buttons on his jeans. Dare she? She had to. The only way this would really work was if he was out of his jeans.
Carefully, she unfastened them, thankful to see that he was wearing black briefs or boxers beneath. As she started to work the jeans down his body, he raised his hips to aid her.
“Thanks, Clay,” he muttered.
She got the jeans down to his ankles and realized she hadn’t taken off his boots. She tugged them off, along with his socks, and then dropped his jeans to the floor. She took out his wallet and placed it on the nightstand.
Lordy, lordy... A fully dressed Sawyer was sexy, but a nearly naked Sawyer wearing only a pair of black boxers and stretched out on her lavender sheets nearly stopped her heart.
She turned out the overhead light, leaving only the illumination from a night-light plugged into an outlet next to the bed. She fully admitted that she’d lost her ever-lovin’ mind. But now she was fully committed to being temporarily insane.
Carefully, she crawled into bed, not touching him in any way. He smelled good, like minty soap, a woodsy cologne and a hint of beer.
Even though she wasn’t touching him, his body heat warmed her in a delicious way and she fought the impulse to lean into him.
As she closed her eyes, she wished this was for real. She wished Sawyer Quincy was in her bed because he wanted to be, because he had chosen to be with her out of all the women in Bitterroot.
* * *
Consciousness came to Sawyer in bits and pieces. The first thing he noticed was that the sheets smelled like flowers. With his eyes still closed, he frowned, wondering how flowers had gotten into his bed.
Of course it wouldn’t be the first time he’d awakened after a Saturday night of drinking to find something strange in his bed. The other men were real jokesters and in the past he’d awakened to discover he was sharing the bed with a salami sandwich, a dead fish, a prickly tumbleweed and his saddle, just to name a few.
He cracked open an eyelid to the early morning sun drifting through a window...not his window. He’d never seen that window before with its frilly white curtains. Where in the hell was he? With both eyes wide open, the next thing he noted was that he was in a four-poster bed with purple sheets. His hat hung on one of the posters, as if it belonged there.
He turned over and nearly jumped out of the bed. A woman...in the bed...with him... Who was she? She faced away from him and all he could see was short, thick, dark hair and creamy bare shoulders beneath hot-pink spaghetti straps.
His shock forced a loud gasp from his throat. He remained frozen in surprise as the woman rolled over, shoved the hair away from her face and gave him a sleepy, sexy smile.
“Good morning, lover,” she said.
Lover... Janis? His brain short-circuited. Hell’s bells, what had he done last night?
“Uh...good morning,” he managed to reply.
He tensed as she snuggled up against him. Of their own volition, his arms went around her. Her silky nightgown was a poor barrier, as he could feel not only the heat of her breasts against him but also the hint of taut nipples.
“Last night was the most wonderful night of my life,” she murmured into the hollow of his neck. “You’re the best, Sawyer. You made my whole body sing with pleasure.”
“Yeah, uh, likewise.” As hard as he tried, he couldn’t remember what had happened between them that had gotten them here in her bed. The last thing he did remember was her serving him a third beer.
His impulse was to grab his boots and britches and run like hell out the door. However, his mother had raised him better than that. But he definitely didn’t want to hang around and chat long enough for her to realize he had no memory of making her sing with pleasure. He’d always liked Janis and the last thing he’d want to do was to hurt her feelings.
Despite his shock at the position he found himself in, his body began to respond to her closeness. Thankfully, at that moment, she rolled away from him and sat up. “How about I fix you a nice, big breakfast? You more than earned it after last night.”
Had her eyes always been that inviting shade of caramel? Had her dark eyelashes
always been so long? He’d never noticed before now. He quickly averted his gaze and looked around the room. There wasn’t much to look at and certainly no kitchen anywhere in sight.
“You seem to be missing some important things...like a stove and a refrigerator.” He frantically continued to search his mind for any memory from the night before.
He usually just passed out when he drank, but he had suffered a couple of blackouts in the past. Once he’d found himself sleeping in the pasture next to the pond after the other men had insisted they’d put him in his own bed. Another time he’d planted himself in Mac’s room and had sung all the country-western songs he’d ever known. The next day he’d had no memory of it.
“I have all the equipment I need just outside that door,” she said. He knew she was referring to the bar’s kitchen.
She scooted off the bed and Sawyer averted his gaze once again, but not before he caught a glimpse of long, shapely, bare legs beneath her hot-pink nightie.
“I’ll be right back and we can talk about breakfast.” She disappeared through a door he assumed led to a bathroom.
The minute the door closed behind her, he leaped out of bed. He searched frantically on the floor for his jeans and shirt. When he found them, he dressed as quickly as possible. No matter what had happened between them the night before, he wasn’t comfortable being nearly naked in her bed.
He needed to get out...to get away and process the night he couldn’t remember. How did this change things? What were the consequences? It was obvious she was thrilled with whatever had occurred.
You’re the best, Sawyer. You made my whole body sing with pleasure.
Her words echoed in his brain as he pulled on his boots. At least she’d been pleased with his performance, he thought with a touch of pride.
The pride didn’t last long. In truth, he was ashamed. He grabbed his wallet off the nightstand and opened it, frowning as he saw the condom he carried still in place. Oh, crap, they hadn’t even had protected sex.
His mama would be rolling around in her grave knowing that he’d gotten drunk and taken some random woman to bed.
Only, Janis wasn’t exactly random. He’d always found her pleasant and pretty. He’d just never thought of her that way before. Geez, what had he done?
He grabbed his cell phone out of his jeans’ pocket and dialed the number for Clay. Clay had a reputation as a womanizer. He’d know what to do in this situation.
He released a sigh of relief as Clay answered.
“Come get me,” Sawyer said without preamble.
Clay laughed. “What’s the matter, bro? Having a rough morning after?”
“Just come and pick me up behind the bar.”
Sawyer had just pocketed his cell phone when Janis stepped out of the bathroom. He swallowed hard. He’d thought she was in there getting dressed, but the only thing she had done was pull a short, silky robe over the sexy nightie.
“Oh, you’re already dressed,” she said. “So I guess you don’t want breakfast in bed.”
“Uh, no, but thanks anyway. I just called Clay to come and get me. I need to get back to the ranch.”
“I would have taken you home,” she protested. “I can at least make you a cup of coffee before you go.” She smiled at him and motioned to a small table that held one of those fancy coffeemakers that gave up a cup of coffee in seconds. Next to the machine were a couple of cups, a sugar bowl and several little creamers.
“That would be nice,” he agreed and sat on the very edge of the bed. He just hoped she didn’t want to chew over the details about the night before.
As she put the little pod into place, he couldn’t help but notice her sexy long legs. This was a Janis he didn’t know. She was so far removed from the efficient, jeans-clad woman who served him drinks on Saturday nights.
And apparently he’d made love with her last night.
He needed to get out of there and have some time to process everything. It was hard to think with her in the same small room, looking so soft and gorgeous and smelling like fresh flowers.
“Cream or sugar?” she asked once the coffee machine had whooshed the last of the liquid into the cup.
“No, thanks. Black is fine,” he replied as he took the cup from her.
She made herself a cup and sat on the opposite side of the bed. “You know, Sawyer, I’ve had a crush on you for a long time. I’m so glad last night you let me know you felt the same way about me.”
He had? Some of the other guys had teased him about having a crush on Janis, but that was just because he’d mentioned in passing a couple of times that he thought she was pretty.
“Yeah, me, too,” he replied because he didn’t know what else to say.
“So, when will I see you again?”
“Uh, maybe we could have dinner at the café some time,” he replied and then nervously took a sip of coffee.
“The bar is closed tonight, so I’m free.”
Oh, her eyes held almost as much heat as the cup in his hand. “Okay. Then how about I pick you up around six?”
“That would be perfect,” she replied with a smile.
A horn honked from outside and he jumped up so fast from the bed he sloshed some of the coffee onto his fingers. “That will be Clay.”
She took his cup from him and set both his and hers on the little table. Together, they walked over to the door that led outside.
She opened it and then she was in his arms, her face raised for a kiss. He didn’t deny her. He wrapped his arms around her and lowered his mouth to hers. Her lips were invitingly soft and hot. Instantly, a fire of hunger leaped into his veins.
He couldn’t believe that he had no memories of kissing her last night. Before he followed through on his desire to deepen the kiss, he dropped his arms and stepped back. “I’ll see you at six tonight,” he said.
“I’ll be waiting,” she replied.
Sawyer practically ran for Clay’s truck. He got in on the passenger side and turned to the blond-haired driver. “Clay, you’ve got to help me out, man. I guess I did something crazy last night and I don’t remember it and now I’m in way over my head.”
Clay released a dry chuckle. “Welcome to the world of drunk adulting.”
Copyright © 2018 by Carla Bracale
ISBN-13: 9781488092886
Colton’s Deadly Engagement
Copyright © 2018 by Harlequin Books S.A.
Special thanks and acknowledgment are given to Addison Fox for her contribution to The Coltons of Red Ridge miniseries.
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