Winning the Cowboy Billionaire - Emmy Eugene Page 0,22

cookies every Sunday afternoon.”

“Do you now?” His dark eyes sparkled like stars in a midnight sky, and Olli’s imagination went wild.

Diamond Eyes: Mischief, Interest, and Dangerous to Your Health.

It would be a purely masculine scent, one that radiated from Spur’s skin and clothes and drove women wild. Instead of Diamond Eyes, she should call it Get Your Girl, and men across the globe would be clamoring to buy the candle and burn it for the women they wanted.

“Olli?”

She blinked, coming out of the fantasy rabbit hole she’d fallen into. Spur had somehow moved closer, and Olli hadn’t seen him do it.

“I lost you,” he said.

“I was thinking about a candle for men,” she said. “Get Your Girl.” She fingered the trivet. “Your eyes reminded me of…” She didn’t know how to finish, because how could she tell him that when she looked into his eyes, she saw stars? She couldn’t.

Just like she couldn’t tell him that when she looked into his eyes, she saw mischief and interest and danger—and she wanted all of it and more.

“My eyes?” he asked, his fingertips trailing up the bare skin on her arm.

Olli shivered at his touch, though it was warm. His hands were so big, and he likely worked like a dog around that ranch. Yet his skin was soft against hers too.

“We should go to the perfumery,” she said. “You promised to help me with the scents, and now I’ve got a candle in mind.” She took a deep breath—big mistake with him so close. Her hormones rattled inside her, and she pushed her hair over her shoulder. “What are you wearing tonight?” She leaned closer, because she could take this embarrassing moment and turn it flirty.

“You smell amazing,” she said. “Women like that in a man, by the way. So we need to bottle you all up and get you selling.” She waved her fingers up and down in front of his body, smiling for all she was worth.

Spur grinned and chuckled, which was exactly what Olli had been hoping for. “Is that right?”

“That’s right, Mister,” she said. “You got so many bonus points today already, though, so I’m not sure how may more I can give out.” She gave him what she hoped was a sly look out of the corner of her eye as she turned. “Come on. Follow me.”

He did, and Olli had barely stepped outside before Spur secured her hand in his. She stumbled, though she was wearing those flat black sandals Ginny had suggested she wear the previous evening.

She looked at their hands, then let her gaze slide up Spur’s tanned, muscled forearm to his shoulder, and finally his face.

“I like you, Olli,” he said when their eyes met. He wore so much in his expression that Olli couldn’t decipher it all. “Okay?” He lifted her hand to his lips, and fire raced through her skin to her muscles to her veins. “Is this okay?”

“Is what okay?” she whispered, feeling like the weight of gravity had stopped working. She was floating somewhere outside her own reach, and Spur was the only thing tethering her to Earth at all.

“Me holdin’ your hand,” he said.

“Oh.” She looked at where their fingers were intertwined again. “Yeah, it’s okay.”

“Just okay?” he teased. “Not earning me any bonus points?”

Olli giggled, her brain finally catching up to the situation. “How can I earn bonus points with you?” she asked as she got her feet moving again. Holding hands with Spur—really holding hands with him—made her feel like a million bucks.

I like you, Olli.

She liked him too. How could she make it as obvious for him as he had her? Or had she already?

“You don’t need any bonus points, Olli,” he said. “I ripped up your flowers. Ruined your product. Broke your candle.” He shook his head. “I’m lucky you haven’t kicked me back to Bluegrass.”

She shook her head, but her smile wouldn’t go. “You took me dancing,” she said. “Brought me one of your trivets, even after I teased you about the knitting. You’ve been wearing this super-sexy, clean cowboy hat every time I see you, and you’re going to help me with my men’s line. I think we’re about even.”

He reached up and pressed on the “super-sexy” cowboy hat, and Olli wondered when the last time someone told him he was handsome and desirable. She wanted to tell him.

Her perfumery sat down the lane about three hundred yards, and as they approached, she saw Charity’s red Mini Cooper parked out front.