Read Online Cowboy Resurrection: Cowboy Cocktail, Book 2 by Mia Hopkins - Free Book Online Page A

cool, smooth hands on him made him go half-staff almost without his realizing it.
    “That’s your problem right there, cowboy,” she said at last.
    “What?”
    “You’re chasing perfection,” she said. “There’s no such thing. Only imperfection. Beauty in imperfection, that’s the best we can hope to find.”
    He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “That and someone to talk to.”
    “And sex.”
    He smiled. “Damn fine sex.”
    She slapped his thigh gently. “You know, you didn’t answer my question.”
    “The answer’ed scare you off, princess.”
    “I don’t scare easily.”
    “Bullshit.” He laughed. “You’re scared of mud under your feet.”
    She looked up at him like he hung the moon right after he’d kicked her dog. He was fascinated by the way emotions played across her face like stage actors who weren’t quite sure of their cues.
    “But I’m not scared of you,” she whispered.
    “Don’t I know it,” he said, taking her in his arms again.
    * * * * *
    They stopped in Lake Isabella for tacos and Cokes. When they got back into the truck and started for Oleander, it was nearly six o’clock. Slapping Dean away as he kissed her neck and tried to distract her, Monica left a message for the sheriff asking him to hang on to the sign mock-ups until Monday.
    “I’m not taking you home.” Dean was sunburned, happy and randy as a rutting bull. “I’m checking us into a motel for the night.”
    “I’m staying with my parents,” she said. “I can’t just wander off for the night without there being retribution. Recriminations. Public shaming.”
    “You’re thirty-two years old!”
    “Yeah, thanks for reminding me,” she said, laughing. “But I’m living at home now. Mommy’s rules. Papa ji ’s curfew.”
    They drove down the road a few minutes while Dean brainstormed ideas. “I’ve got it. Take out your phone. Call them and tell them this clown drank too much bourbon at Bo Walker’s ranch and the old man’s putting us up for the night—separate rooms, of course. His wife is there. She’s making us a chicken potpie. It’s really tasty. Can’t say no. It’d be rude.”
    “You want me to lie to my parents?” she said, raising her eyebrow at him.
    “ Lie is a mighty strong word,” he said. “I want you to protect their delicate sensibilities.”
    The business hotel in Bakersfield was newly remodeled, as sterile and clean as a blank sheet of paper. After a quick stop at the drugstore across the street, Dean checked them in, grabbed Monica out of the truck and kissed her the entire elevator ride up to the fourth floor.
    “Ain’t gonna be nothing left of you in the morning but that pretty face and a great, big satisfied smile,” he whispered into her ear.
    She kissed his neck. “I can’t wait.” She reached behind him and squeezed his ass hard as the elevator bell dinged.
    As soon as the door of the hotel room clicked shut, they fell on each other, grabbing at each other’s clothes. Dean sat on the bed and Monica pulled off his boots; he wrapped his arm around her waist and spun her onto the mattress, stripping off her jeans as she giggled. In a heartbeat, they were naked, panting and staring at each other like wolves.
    “Come on,” he said, picking her up and throwing her over his shoulder as she squealed. “Let’s get this polliwog water off.”
    She contented herself with cussing him out and spanking his butt while he turned on the water in the shower. He put her in the bathtub and stepped in with her, pulling the curtain closed behind him. As steam filled the tiny room, he kept his eyes on hers as he poured shampoo into his hands. He lathered up her long black hair, working the white foam with his fingers and rinsing it all away. She rubbed the tiny bar of hotel soap between her palms and ran her hands all over his body, dragging her fingertips through his chest hair, over his abs and down over his hard-on. She gave him a few healthy pumps, and when he