Quickdraw Slow Burn (Battle of the Bulls #3) - T. S. Joyce Page 0,16

Wranglers hugged his very muscular butt, and his boots were scuffed but high quality. He looked tall and strong, his defined chest and arms pushing against the thin fabric of his white long-sleeve thermal. It had a few buttons at the top, but the first two were undone, exposing the detailed tattoo designs on his throat, and the top of the perfectly defined muscle-line leading down between his pecs. His dark beard was trimmed shorter than it had been a month ago, and she liked it. She could see the shape of his chiseled jaw more and take in his smiles easier. His dark eyes missed nothing under the brim of a worn dark blue beer hat.

She’d never seen a more fit physique in her entire life, and he was opening the door for her. For her.

Just friends, just friends, just friends, she reminded herself when she caught herself rubbing her index finger along his skin where she held onto his arm. How could a man be so steely strong and have such soft leather skin at the same time? This was going to be tough, walking the line between falling for him and remembering that he didn’t want a relationship. Not a serious relationship, at least.

Quickdraw was clearly the type of man that turned every head in the bar, both men and women, the second he walked into a room. She watched it happen.

There was this loaded moment when he looked around the bar then belted out, “What?” in a loud, booming voice, and then everyone went back to what they were doing.

Annabelle snorted. “Are you going to get in a fight tonight?”

“Probably,” Two Shots muttered as he passed with Cheyenne. “He always gets in fights.”

“Well, I don’t start them.” Quickdraw straightened his arm and caught her hand in his as it fell. “I just finish them.”

Dead huffed a sarcastic sound as he was passing them with his arm around Raven’s shoulders. He took on a storyteller’s tone. “And the narrator disagreed. Quickdraw, in fact, had started every fight he was ever in.”

A single eyebrow cocked up on Quickdraw’s face, and then quick as a strike of lightning, he shoved his boot out and tripped Dead. Dead of Winter stumbled a step and caught himself, turned and lurched at Quickdraw again like he would hit him. He didn’t say what Annabelle had expected him to though. Instead, Dead growled out, “I love you.”

Annabelle laughed at how mad Quickdraw looked right now.

The others found a tall oval-shaped table near the corner by the jukebox, just a few tables away from the stage where a band was playing country music. There was a dance floor with four couples dancing really well, with spins and dips and everything. Even in boots! The people in the Dusty Armadillo were clearly here to have a good time, and laughter accompanied the soundtrack the band was making.

“I like it in here,” she said over the volume of the music, as Quickdraw led her through the crowd on the edge of a dance floor, and toward the herd’s table. It was a little hard to hear in here with all conversations around them going on.

Quickdraw stopped and turned on her, leaned down next to her ear and gripped her flannel right at her waist. “I like it here, too. You make this scene more fun.”

Before she could chicken out, she pushed up on the toes of her boots and kissed him on the cheek. Right there in the middle of all those strangers. Just a quick smack because she was so filled with this happy moment allowing her to escape the pressure of her life that she’d given into the urge.

He froze, all but his hand, which slid to her waist under her flannel and rested gently on her hip.

And she could hear it with those heightened senses of hers. His heart was pounding so fast in his chest. She pressed her hand there at his heart just to feel it. She looked up at the big, strong, giant, handsome, successful, independent man whose heart was beating faster because of something she’d done. Annabelle couldn’t remember a time in her life when she’d ever felt so enamored by a man.

Quickdraw’s Adam’s apple dipped low in his muscular throat as he took her hand from his chest and kissed her knuckles lightly. That kiss was so soft, his beard tickled.

And now it was time for her heart to race. Oh no, this wasn’t part of the plan.

She