doubt there’s cream, but there’s probably Baileys in the fridge.”
“This is good.” She blew on it, her hands curving around the mug.
Lucky mug. A city girl who drank it straight. Interesting. He took several gulps, letting the hot liquid hit his system with a jolt of power. “You a tease?” he asked.
She blinked. “Because I wouldn’t have sex with you this morning?”
“Just askin’.” And he was. She had wanted him, and he sure as heck had wanted her. “I don’t have time for games or lies, so I figured I’d get the scoop.” Then, maybe, he’d ask her out that night.
She swallowed some coffee and set the cup down, spinning it gently in her hands. “It’s like this.” She looked up, her eyes earnest, her face without makeup so pretty it was hard to concentrate on her words. “I’m soft, Trent.”
He took another drink of the strong brew. “I noticed, baby.” Her soft and sweet body was a temptation. Hopefully she wasn’t one of those girls who thought stick-thin was the only way to be. He’d never understood that line of thinking, because women were supposed to be soft and curvy and a handful.
She smiled. “No. I mean, yeah. My body is soft and so is my heart. Very. I can’t let you into one without letting you into the other, and I don’t know you.”
He had been wrong. It wasn’t cute that slayed him. It was sweet. He settled back, deciding what to do with her admission. “How many have gotten in?” The question escaped him before he could mull it over.
“You want numbers?” she challenged.
He should definitely not go there. “Yeah.”
“One.”
He coughed into his coffee and quickly regained control. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-four. You?”
“Thirty-two.” Truth be told, the woman looked younger than that. “When?” He didn’t elaborate, because she obviously had a brain in her head.
She sipped again, a slight veil coming down over her eyes. “It ended three years ago. I was married.” Her voice remained level—too much so.
“When did it start?”
Her grin was quick. “When I was seventeen.”
Ah, crap. This wasn’t going to be a jilted-lover story. “How’d he die, Hallie?”
She blinked. “I don’t know how. Just where. Afghanistan.”
Just the word shot him right back there to the desert. He took a bigger gulp, hoping to burn the acid taste out of his mouth. He was settled, he was alive, and so were his brothers. Most of them. Tragedy was over, and he shouldn’t share hers.
Then challenge lit her expression. “Shall we talk about your numbers now?”
“Not a chance.” He didn’t tomcat around like a lot of his brothers, but he hadn’t been a monk, either. “What are you doing getting lost in Wyoming in the middle of a storm?”
She stiffened and then settled, her smile lacking something. “I’m just driving through Wyoming to meet some friends in Montana for a girls’ week. Fun and wine and gossip.”
He leaned in, his interest piqued. “Well now, Hallie. I’m thinkin’ that’s the first time you’ve lied to me.”
She jolted, emotions scattering across her face, and then settled. “I’m thinkin’ my life is none of your business.”
Those words rolled right through him with a heat he’d never felt before. He’d known her less than twelve hours, and so far, she’d given him cute, she’d given him sweet, and now she’d hit him over the head with sass. His grin, when he let it loose, was slow and full.
The look in her eyes went from sass to oh shit.
Yep. She got him.
* * *
It wasn’t the first time in Hallie’s life she’d felt off-balance, not by far. But the hottie cowboy taking her measure had more brains to him than she’d thought the night before. Oh, he had the good-ole-boy thing down, but something flashed in those dark green eyes. Not for long, but it was there. Alert and predatory.
He shut it down fast, the charm returning.
She had to get out of there, but she needed another cup of coffee first. So she held out her mug for him to refill. Then she looked at the disaster of the room in the light of day. “What the heck is this place? Some sort of party lodge?”
“Yes and no.” He leaned against the tall, stainless steel fridge, his torso bare and the top button of his jeans unclasped. His hair was mussed and his jaw a couple days past needing a shave. “Wyoming is a big state, and you’re in cattle country. Neighbors are separated by miles . . . and