The Texan's One-Night Standoff. Charlene Sands

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      She inched her body away, brushing by him, trying not to make contact with the bruiser. But the jerk grabbed her arm from behind and gave a sharp tug. She struggled to wiggle free. “Let go,” she said.

      Brooks scanned the room. All eyes were still on Ruby, but no one was making a move. Instead they all had smug looks on their faces. Forget what he’d thought about this town; they were all jerks.

      The muscles in his arms bunched and his hands tightened into fists as Brooks stepped toward the two of them. He couldn’t stand by and watch this scene play out, not when the petite pool shark was in trouble. “Get your hands—”

      The words weren’t out of his mouth before Ruby elbowed the guy in the gut. “Oof.” He doubled over, clutching his stomach, and cursed her up and down using filthy names.

      Crap. Now she was in deep. The guy’s head came up; the unabashed fury in his eyes was aimed her way. Brooks immediately pulled his arm back, fists at the ready, but before he could land a punch, Ruby grabbed the guy’s forearm. The twist of her body came so fast, Brooks blinked, and before he knew it, she’d tossed the big oaf over her shoulder WWF-style and had him down for the count. As in, she’d laid him out flat on his back.

      Someone from the bar groused, “No one messes with Ruby unless she wants to be messed with.”

      Apparently the oaf hadn’t known that. And neither had Brooks. But hell, the rest of them had known.

      She stepped over the man to face Brooks, her gaze on the right hook he’d been ready to land. “Thanks anyway,” she said, out of breath. Apparently she wasn’t Supergirl. The effort had taxed her, and he found himself enjoying how the ebb and flow of her labored breaths stretched the material of her blouse.

      He stood there somewhat in awe, a grin spreading his mouth wide. “You didn’t let me do my gladiator routine.”

      “Sorry. Maybe next time.” Her lips quirked up.

      Behind her, the bartender and another man began dragging the patron away.

      “Does that happen often?” he asked her.

      “Often enough,” she said. “But not with guys who know me.”

      He rubbed at his chin. “No. I wouldn’t imagine.”

      He kept his gaze trained on her, astonished at what he’d just witnessed. Her eyes danced in amusement, probably at his befuddled expression. And then someone turned up the volume on the country song playing, and his thoughts ran wild. He was too intrigued to let the night end. This woman wasn’t your typical Texas beauty queen. She had spunk and grit and so much more. Hell, he hadn’t been this turned on in a long, long time.

      A country Christmas ballad piped in through the speakers surrounding the room. “Would you like to dance?” he asked.

      She smiled sweetly, the kind of smile that suggested softness. And he would’ve believed that if he hadn’t seen her just deck a man. A big man.

      Her head tilted to the left, and she gauged him thoughtfully.

      He was still standing, so that was a plus. She didn’t find him out of line.

      “Sure. I’d like that, Galahad.”

      “It’s Brooks.”

      “Ruby.”

      She led him to the dance floor and he took over from there, placing his hand on the small of her back, enfolding her other hand in his. Small and delicate to big and rough. But it worked. And how, did it work.

      He began to move, holding her at arm’s length, breathing her in as they glided across the dance floor.

      “I thought you were in trouble back there,” he said.

      “I gathered.”

      “Are you a black belt or something?”

      “Nope, just grew up around men and learned early on how to take care of myself. What about you? Do you have a knight in shining armor complex or something?”

      He laughed. “Where I come from, a man doesn’t stand by and watch someone abuse a lady.”

      “Oh, I see.”

      “Apparently I was the only other guy in the place who didn’t know you could handle yourself.”

      She was looking at him now, piercing him with those cocoa eyes and giving him that megawatt smile. “It was sorta sweet, you coming to my rescue.” Was she flirting? Man, oh man. If she was, he wasn’t going to stop her.

      “I was watching you, like every other guy at the bar.”

      “I like to play pool. I’m good at it,” she said, shrugging a shoulder. “It’s a great way to blow off steam.”

      “That’s exactly why I stopped into the bar myself. I needed to do the same.”

      “You get brownie points for not saying the obvious.”

      “Which is?”

      Her lips twitched and she hesitated for a second, as if trying to decide whether to tell him or not. “That you know a better way to blow off steam.”

      Her raven brows rose, and he stopped dancing for a second to study her. “You must drive men wild with your mouth.”

      She shook her head, grinning. “You’re sinking, Brooks. Going under fast.”

      “I was talking about your sass.”

      She knew. She was messing with him. “Most men hate it.”

      “Not me. It’s refreshing.”

      He brought her closer, so that the tips of her breasts grazed his shirt and the scent of her hair tickled his nostrils. She didn’t flip him over her shoulder with that move. She cuddled up closer. “So far, I have two brownie points,” he said. “What can I do to earn another?”

      Her gaze drifted to his mouth with pinpoint accuracy. Air left his chest. A deep hunger, like none he’d experienced before, gnawed into his belly.

      “You’ll think of something, Galahad.”

      * * *

      The stranger’s lips touched hers, a brief exploration that warmed up her insides and made her question everything she’d done since setting eyes on this guy. Usually she wasn’t this brazen with men. She didn’t flirt and plant ideas in their heads. But there was something about Brooks that called to her. He had manners. And he knew how to speak to a woman. He seemed familiar and safe in a way, even though they’d never met before. He wasn’t hard on the eyes either, with all that blond hair, thick and wavy and catching the collar of his zillion-dollar shirt. He was as citified as they came, even if he wore slick boots and sported five-o’clock stubble. As soon as she’d spotted him at the bar, she knew he didn’t belong. Not here, in a dusty small town out in the middle of nowhere. Cool Springs wasn’t exactly a mecca of high society, and this СКАЧАТЬ