Read Online The Cowgirl Ropes a Billionaire by Cora Seton - Free Book Online
Authors: Cora Seton
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for the first time, nor because he obviously intended to taunt her while she shot. The thought of Evan touching her made her feel warm. Delicate. Womanly.
Interested.
Crud. Of all the men to react to like that. Why couldn’t she fall for one of the businessmen of Chance Creek, or even one of the cowboys working the ranches around town, like Rob’s brother Jake? Or the county sheriff, Cab? She got along great with Cab, but there’d never been a spark between them—not like this.
Cab didn’t have Evan’s hands.
Surely she was losing it. Who cared about hands? It was a man’s heart, his brain, his capacity for love that was really important, if you cared about things like that. She didn’t care about men one way or another.
But her thoughts returned to the way Evan’s hands could make her feel alive. They could tease and torment her until she writhed with desire.
Seriously. She needed to get laid.
Did Evan feel it, too, or was she the only one being shanghaied by hormones? He stepped closer and for a second she thought she saw her own interest echoed in his eyes. He frowned and bent nearer. “I’ll always beat you in a race, Betty Bumpkin. I’ve already beat you at this challenge. I’ve got this contest in the palm of my hand. Pretty soon I’ll have you in the palm of my hand, too. At least for a year.”
Betty Bumpkin? Heat rushed into her cheeks. He called her Betty Bumpkin on national television? What an asshole! And what did that last crack mean—having her in the palm of his hand? She could think of any number of dirty interpretations for that sentence.
Now she saw him as he truly was—a cocky, arrogant, self-absorbed jackass who’d inherited a bunch of money and thought it made him superior to everyone who worked for a living.
“We’ve got a long way to go, so step aside, Moneybuns. Let’s get on with it.” His snort of disgust at the crude nickname made her smile, but her anxiety rose as she approached a white line spray painted on the ground. One of the extra crew members took the bow Evan had handed her and directed her to a rack full of them.
“This one’s much too big for you,” the young woman said. “Try a few of them out and see which ones you can pull back all the way. You want the biggest one you can handle, though. The bigger the bow, the faster the arrow flies—making it more likely to stick in the target.” Bella chose a bow and Evan smirked at her as the woman helped Bella put on a wrist guard and gloves, led her back to the line, and pointed to the quiver of arrows. “Fire at will.”
Everyone stepped back behind the line. She knew the cameras were rolling—several of them. Evan stood nearby, his powerful arms crossed over his chest.
Hell. This was going to be embarrassing.
She selected an arrow and nocked it just above a small metal bead attached to the string. She raised the bow out in front of her, held her left arm straight, took hold of the arrow and string between the second and third fingers on her right hand and drew back as far as she could. It wasn’t as easy as Evan made it look. Her right arm trembled, more and more as she waited for Evan to begin heckling her. He didn’t say a word. Finally, unable to wait any longer, she loosed the arrow and cringed when it flew barely half the distance to the target before hitting the ground.
Bella wiped her sweat-slick palm along her shorts. This sucked. Still, it was just one contest. Surely there’d be others she excelled at. She glanced at Evan, who saluted her cockily. “Great shot.”
“Shut up.” She bit her lip, angry at herself for being baited. That wasn’t the stinging comment she’d like to have made. She selected another arrow, nocked it and raised the bow again. This time she angled it higher, figuring that if the arrow went higher in the air, it would travel farther. She took a breath, pulled the arrow back and released it as quickly as she could, before Evan even had the chance to say
Interested.
Crud. Of all the men to react to like that. Why couldn’t she fall for one of the businessmen of Chance Creek, or even one of the cowboys working the ranches around town, like Rob’s brother Jake? Or the county sheriff, Cab? She got along great with Cab, but there’d never been a spark between them—not like this.
Cab didn’t have Evan’s hands.
Surely she was losing it. Who cared about hands? It was a man’s heart, his brain, his capacity for love that was really important, if you cared about things like that. She didn’t care about men one way or another.
But her thoughts returned to the way Evan’s hands could make her feel alive. They could tease and torment her until she writhed with desire.
Seriously. She needed to get laid.
Did Evan feel it, too, or was she the only one being shanghaied by hormones? He stepped closer and for a second she thought she saw her own interest echoed in his eyes. He frowned and bent nearer. “I’ll always beat you in a race, Betty Bumpkin. I’ve already beat you at this challenge. I’ve got this contest in the palm of my hand. Pretty soon I’ll have you in the palm of my hand, too. At least for a year.”
Betty Bumpkin? Heat rushed into her cheeks. He called her Betty Bumpkin on national television? What an asshole! And what did that last crack mean—having her in the palm of his hand? She could think of any number of dirty interpretations for that sentence.
Now she saw him as he truly was—a cocky, arrogant, self-absorbed jackass who’d inherited a bunch of money and thought it made him superior to everyone who worked for a living.
“We’ve got a long way to go, so step aside, Moneybuns. Let’s get on with it.” His snort of disgust at the crude nickname made her smile, but her anxiety rose as she approached a white line spray painted on the ground. One of the extra crew members took the bow Evan had handed her and directed her to a rack full of them.
“This one’s much too big for you,” the young woman said. “Try a few of them out and see which ones you can pull back all the way. You want the biggest one you can handle, though. The bigger the bow, the faster the arrow flies—making it more likely to stick in the target.” Bella chose a bow and Evan smirked at her as the woman helped Bella put on a wrist guard and gloves, led her back to the line, and pointed to the quiver of arrows. “Fire at will.”
Everyone stepped back behind the line. She knew the cameras were rolling—several of them. Evan stood nearby, his powerful arms crossed over his chest.
Hell. This was going to be embarrassing.
She selected an arrow and nocked it just above a small metal bead attached to the string. She raised the bow out in front of her, held her left arm straight, took hold of the arrow and string between the second and third fingers on her right hand and drew back as far as she could. It wasn’t as easy as Evan made it look. Her right arm trembled, more and more as she waited for Evan to begin heckling her. He didn’t say a word. Finally, unable to wait any longer, she loosed the arrow and cringed when it flew barely half the distance to the target before hitting the ground.
Bella wiped her sweat-slick palm along her shorts. This sucked. Still, it was just one contest. Surely there’d be others she excelled at. She glanced at Evan, who saluted her cockily. “Great shot.”
“Shut up.” She bit her lip, angry at herself for being baited. That wasn’t the stinging comment she’d like to have made. She selected another arrow, nocked it and raised the bow again. This time she angled it higher, figuring that if the arrow went higher in the air, it would travel farther. She took a breath, pulled the arrow back and released it as quickly as she could, before Evan even had the chance to say
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