To All the Cowboys I’ve Loved Before: The Hottest Western Romance of 2019!. D. Graham R.

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СКАЧАТЬ that mean the chick you’ve picked is someone none of us would want to sleep with?” Chuck asks.

      BJ’s face freezes in a brace-for-bad-news grimace. “Is she hideous?”

      “It doesn’t matter what she looks like. All you should care about is whether she can pay the rent. And she’s skittish about living with three cowboys, so don’t scare her off if she does decide to move in.”

      “Gentlemen,” Cavendish raises her voice to reach the back of the room loud and clear. “Since you’re going to be missing my next lecture for your little bronc riding adventures may I suggest that you listen during today’s lecture?”

      “Yes, ma’am,” we all say in unison.

      After an extended silence to drive home her point, she returns to lecturing and writing on the whiteboard.

      BJ leans over and covers his mouth with his hand. “What color’s her hair?”

      “Brown,” I say under my breath.

      “Good brown or the ugly kind?”

      “Shut up. Assuming that she’s straight, you’re not sleeping with her.”

      “You can’t either then.”

      Chuck leans in. “Can I?”

      “No,” we both snap at him.

      The woman sitting in front of me turns and shushes us.

      BJ listens to Cavendish for a while, but the lecture is boring, so he swings his head over closer to me. “Does she have a nice body?”

      “I have no idea. She was wearing dress pants and a blazer.”

      “Like a professor?”

      “More like a Catholic schoolgirl. You won’t like her. She’s too conservative for you.”

      “Black? White? Asian? Latina? Or a Mojave princess?”

      “She’s white. Like fresh snow. Now, shut it before you get us kicked out.”

      Both BJ and Chuck swivel in their seats, staring at me with amused expressions.

      “What?” I mumble.

      “Why did you just describe her in a poetic way?”

      I shake my head, annoyed. “It wasn’t poetic. It was descriptive. In a factual way. She literally has the palest skin I’ve ever seen. And for all we know she wouldn’t be interested in any of us anyway.”

      They both sink back into their seats, grinning. Like they know something I don’t know.

      After class, the guys and I walk to the deli for lunch. The freshman working the counter likes Chuck, so she gives us fifty percent off our sandwiches, which is cheaper than making them ourselves at home. I’m tired of the same thing every day, but money is going to be tight until we hit some rodeos. A half-priced turkey on rye is better than nothing.

      We sit at a table by the window and BJ says, “Since we’ve never had a female roommate before, let’s make a rule. What’s her name again?”

      “Della. But she hasn’t agreed yet.” I bite into my sandwich.

      BJ pauses to give a woman walking by the eye, then continues, “Okay, if any of us sleeps with Della we owe the other two five-hundred bucks each.”

      Chuck laughs. “I don’t even have a hundred bucks. I can’t come up with a thousand bucks.”

      “Then don’t sleep with her, dummy.” BJ extends his hand towards me. “Are you in, Havie?”

      He’s got a scheming look in his eyes. Probably because he thinks the snowy skin comment means I have a thing for her. I don’t. I barely know her. “Yeah, I’m in.” I shake his hand. “All I want from her is her rent money.”

      Chuck looks confused. “Have we determined whether she’s good looking or not?”

      “It doesn’t matter. Either you keep your hands off her or you owe us a grand.”

      Chuck squints into the sun as his brain wheels tick. You’d think he’d been kicked in the head by one too many broncs, but he’s naturally like that. Book smart and life dumb. It’s actually painful to watch him figure things out. “What qualifies as sleeping with her? Just so I’m clear on the parameters.”

      BJ checks with me, “Kissing? Heavy petting? Penetration? What should the line be?”

      I shake my head to end the stupid conversation. “No touching. Period.”

      Chuck gestures in protest. “No way, man. We need to be able to shake her hand or give her a hug if she’s crying or something. Penetration is the line.”

      “Fine,” BJ says. “If any part of your body enters any part of her body you have to pay up.”

      “What if she initiates the sexual contact?” Chuck asks.

      “Still counts,” BJ says as he gets up to order a milkshake at the counter.

      Chuck leans his elbows on the table, processing the situation. “What if she decides not to room with us? Is she still off-limits then?”

      I don’t answer because Della just walked in. She grabs a tray and loads it with a carton of milk and a salad. Her hair is the good kind of brown—long, thick and wavy. It’s held back with a thin navy ribbon headband and she has dark-rimmed glasses on now, so she looks even more like a library monitor. Despite the modest outfit it’s obvious she’s fit. Probably a runner or tennis player. BJ has already spotted her and is checking out her ass. Chuck is about to notice her, too. He’s not into good girls, but her big brown doe eyes, heart-shaped face, and the way she smells, like a mixture of vanilla and peppermint, will mesmerize him into giving it his best shot. One of them is going to spook her. Guaranteed.

      Della steps up to the cashier where BJ is waiting for his milkshake. He says something to her that makes her cheeks flush. She responds quietly without looking directly at him and passes the cashier a twenty. When BJ points over at our table, Della turns and our eyes meet. I smile. Not in the ‘trying to wheel her’ way, but in the ‘her looking at me actually made me smile’ way. Uh oh. Maybe I do have a thing for her already. This is potentially not good.

      She attempts to wave at me and tips her tray in the process. The salad bowl flies through the air and lettuce floats to the floor. The milk carton hits the ground hard and explodes, which makes her wince as the spray douses her and BJ in white droplets. “Shoot. I’m sorry,” she says to him as she leans across the counter to grab serviettes. “It soaked your boots. I’m sorry. Let me wipe them off for you.” She crouches down to clean up the milk.

      “Don’t worry about it, darlin’. Boots are made for getting dirty,” BJ says as he makes eye contact with me. He points down at her and mouths, “Is this the new roomie?”

      I don’t want to answer because I don’t know what he’s going to do with that information. He can obviously tell from my СКАЧАТЬ