Read Online Burn on the Western Slope (Crimson Romance) by Angela Smith - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Angela Smith
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special today is Super Bowl Sundown. Something I made up myself. You want to give it a try?”
“I’m game,” Reagan said as she shrugged out of her jacket and gloves. “Were we supposed to bring something?”
“Just yourself.”
“What about those people?” she asked, pointing to a couple who carried several plates of food.
“Some of the regulars pitched in to help feed the crowd. It’s an annual party and usually gets pretty crazy.”
She looked around but didn’t voice the question if Garret would be here.
“I’ll take your jackets.” Chayton deposited their drinks on the counter and stretched out his hands. “I don’t let just anyone keep their jackets back here, but I did it for Ray and I’ll do it for his niece and her friend.”
“Thanks,” Reagan said. “Actually, Naomi is my cousin. On my dad’s side,” she added after noticing the quizzical arch of his brow.
“Oh.” Chayton stowed their coats, gloves, and hats behind the bar and tended to the next customer. It was getting busy and impossible for him to hold a conversation at the moment, so Reagan and Naomi picked up their drinks and roamed.
The appetizer table held all kinds of treats. Cookies, cakes, and breads shaped into footballs. Sauces and dips. Reagan fixed a plate, returned to the bar, and asked for another cocktail. Chayton was busy with other customers so a woman bartender helped her. She sat at the crowded bar eating the snacks, mulling, thinking, and pouting. Naomi, the social butterfly, continued to schmooze.
Her heart flipped when she saw Garret threading his way through the crowd. God, he was sexy. An unbuttoned white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up hung open over a tight gray tee, revealing ropy forearms and an athletic chest. As he walked, men thumped him on the back or high-fived him. Women hugged him. He stopped to say hello to several people, shaking hands. Smiling, nodding. Heat curled through her belly, to her toes.
“Good to have you back, man,” someone said.
“Garret, good to see you,” a woman said, who gave him a hug. Reagan wondered where he’d been and how long he’d been gone. None of her business.
He was already smiling before he caught Reagan’s gaze, but once he saw her, that magnificent smile became more magnificent, radiating pleasure. Like maybe he was happy to see her. At least that’s what she’d like to believe. As he strolled across the floor, he continued to watch her and her heart continued to pound, making her thighs shake, her throat ache, and her head spin.
She returned his smile, gritting her teeth, fearing if she let her lips relax, she’d blurt out everything she felt. As he stopped at the bar beside her, she glanced at the TV for something to watch besides him.
His thick golden hair wore the messy bedhead look, and stubble drew faint lines on his face. That alone was an aphrodisiac without the earth-shaking cologne.
“Glad you came.” He nodded at Chayton for a drink. “Heineken tonight,” he said before landing his gaze on Reagan. “I worried you wouldn’t.”
“Oh?” she asked. He was glad she came? Worried she wouldn’t? Did that mean he wanted to see her?
Propping his hand on the bar, he leaned into her. “It gets pretty rowdy here.”
She simpered as she turned to him, bringing the straw to her lips. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
“Oh, I know you can handle it.”
Chills sprouted on her arms as his baritone voice burned through her. She shifted on the stool, but the heat only intensified, spreading to her toes. His eyes — were they blue or green? She noticed they changed from deep green to turquoise, to the coastline after a storm or akin to the sandblasted jeans he wore.
“You bet on the game?” he asked. Reagan couldn’t even name the teams playing, much less who had the better chance of winning.
“No,” she replied, finding it hard to focus with his head so close to hers.
“Good. Because it’s already a given that
“I’m game,” Reagan said as she shrugged out of her jacket and gloves. “Were we supposed to bring something?”
“Just yourself.”
“What about those people?” she asked, pointing to a couple who carried several plates of food.
“Some of the regulars pitched in to help feed the crowd. It’s an annual party and usually gets pretty crazy.”
She looked around but didn’t voice the question if Garret would be here.
“I’ll take your jackets.” Chayton deposited their drinks on the counter and stretched out his hands. “I don’t let just anyone keep their jackets back here, but I did it for Ray and I’ll do it for his niece and her friend.”
“Thanks,” Reagan said. “Actually, Naomi is my cousin. On my dad’s side,” she added after noticing the quizzical arch of his brow.
“Oh.” Chayton stowed their coats, gloves, and hats behind the bar and tended to the next customer. It was getting busy and impossible for him to hold a conversation at the moment, so Reagan and Naomi picked up their drinks and roamed.
The appetizer table held all kinds of treats. Cookies, cakes, and breads shaped into footballs. Sauces and dips. Reagan fixed a plate, returned to the bar, and asked for another cocktail. Chayton was busy with other customers so a woman bartender helped her. She sat at the crowded bar eating the snacks, mulling, thinking, and pouting. Naomi, the social butterfly, continued to schmooze.
Her heart flipped when she saw Garret threading his way through the crowd. God, he was sexy. An unbuttoned white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up hung open over a tight gray tee, revealing ropy forearms and an athletic chest. As he walked, men thumped him on the back or high-fived him. Women hugged him. He stopped to say hello to several people, shaking hands. Smiling, nodding. Heat curled through her belly, to her toes.
“Good to have you back, man,” someone said.
“Garret, good to see you,” a woman said, who gave him a hug. Reagan wondered where he’d been and how long he’d been gone. None of her business.
He was already smiling before he caught Reagan’s gaze, but once he saw her, that magnificent smile became more magnificent, radiating pleasure. Like maybe he was happy to see her. At least that’s what she’d like to believe. As he strolled across the floor, he continued to watch her and her heart continued to pound, making her thighs shake, her throat ache, and her head spin.
She returned his smile, gritting her teeth, fearing if she let her lips relax, she’d blurt out everything she felt. As he stopped at the bar beside her, she glanced at the TV for something to watch besides him.
His thick golden hair wore the messy bedhead look, and stubble drew faint lines on his face. That alone was an aphrodisiac without the earth-shaking cologne.
“Glad you came.” He nodded at Chayton for a drink. “Heineken tonight,” he said before landing his gaze on Reagan. “I worried you wouldn’t.”
“Oh?” she asked. He was glad she came? Worried she wouldn’t? Did that mean he wanted to see her?
Propping his hand on the bar, he leaned into her. “It gets pretty rowdy here.”
She simpered as she turned to him, bringing the straw to her lips. “You don’t think I can handle it?”
“Oh, I know you can handle it.”
Chills sprouted on her arms as his baritone voice burned through her. She shifted on the stool, but the heat only intensified, spreading to her toes. His eyes — were they blue or green? She noticed they changed from deep green to turquoise, to the coastline after a storm or akin to the sandblasted jeans he wore.
“You bet on the game?” he asked. Reagan couldn’t even name the teams playing, much less who had the better chance of winning.
“No,” she replied, finding it hard to focus with his head so close to hers.
“Good. Because it’s already a given that
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