when Vivien licked her hand that was dangling over the side of the bed. She opened her eyes wide, looked around, and didn’t recognize a single thing other than the dog that was named for her mother. The light stung her eyes. Her head pounded so hard that she could hear every heartbeat in it.
“Good mornin’.” Rusty brought in a tray with pancakes and coffee. “We’ve overslept. It’s too late to go to church, so evidently we won’t be able to ask forgiveness for our sins.”
“I don’t know about you, but I don’t believe I did anything I have to repent for.” She sat up in bed, checked to be sure she was wearing clothes, and threw back the quilt. “I only had a few sips from a shot of blackberry bomb.”
“I had about three of those wicked bombs you brewed up. You drank the rest of that blender full.” He put the tray over her lap and sat down beside her.
“Well, at least you didn’t sneak out in the middle of the night and leave me like you did that Sandy woman. Are you going to call me?” Her tone was saccharine.
He poured syrup on the pancakes, cut into them, and took a bite.
“I thought this was my breakfast,” she said.
“It’s ours to share, like we did all our mistakes last night.” He handed her the fork and his hand brushed against hers. His gentle touch sent sensations coursing through her body that made her want to throw off the sheet and drag him right back into bed with her.
She took a bite and wondered what in the hell she’d shared with him? Did she tell him about the sorry sucker who’d talked her out of her virginity and then told everyone in high school about it the next day? Did she tell him that she’d never been so glad to go home that evening and find her mother packing the car to move again?
“So, what did I share?” she asked.
“I know about you trying to grow pot.” Compared to all the other scrapes she’d been in, that wasn’t so bad.
“So, we exchanged a few stories, got drunk, and now we’re sharing pancakes. That doesn’t change jack crap about this ranch,” she said.
“Nope, it sure doesn’t. I might make breakfast, but I’m still going to do my best to make you hate this place and leave before Christmas,” he said.
“Give it your best shot, cowboy,” she told him.
Chapter Four
Bonnie was on her way out the door when her phone rang. The noise startled her so badly she fumbled when she tried to fetch it from her hip pocket and dropped it on the floor. Breathless, she finally answered it on the fourth ring.
“Hello, Shiloh,” she said.
“Why weren’t you in church this morning?” Shiloh asked.
“Overslept,” Bonnie answered.
“You’re out of breath. What were you doing?”
I got drunk and had a hangover and woke up in Rusty’s bed, she thought and smiled. But she said, “I was on my way outside when the phone rang. It startled me.”
“Abby Joy and I are going to Amarillo this afternoon. Want to go with us? We’re leaving in about half an hour.”
Rusty walked up behind her. “I’m going out to check the hay we cut yesterday. Want to go with me?”
“Did I hear someone say something in the background?” Shiloh asked.
“Rusty came in the back door and wanted to know if I wanted to go to the pasture with him, but I’d rather go shopping. I’ll see you in thirty,” Bonnie said.
“Hello to him. See you in thirty. Oh, and tell Rusty, the guys are watching the bull riding on television at Abby Joy’s if he wants to go over there.” Shiloh ended the call.
Bonnie turned around to find him so close that his warm breath tickled the side of her cheek. “You’re invited to Cooper’s to watch bull riding.”
All those damned moonshine bombs had to be the reason he affected her the way he did that morning. Sure, she’d had a little secret crush on him, but she’d never had to fight against the desire to take a step forward and kiss him. “I’m going shopping with my sisters.”
He brushed a sweet kiss across her cheek. “Thanks for the evening and the night.”
Her legs felt like they had no bones. Her pulse began to race, and her heart thumped against her ribs. “You can sweet-talk me, feed me breakfast, or get me drunk and I’m still not going to let you have this ranch