Rescued (A McKenzie Ridge Novel Book 1) by Stephanie St. Klaire Page A
Authors: Stephanie St. Klaire
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Morrison any more than she’d trust a hungry rabbit in her garden. Bette was as reliable as a bucket with a hole in it. She let Sam down more times than Granny cared to count.
“No, I haven’t heard from her in a while. She was blissfully happy with what’s his name last we spoke. Sneaky isn’t her style, her presence floods in long before her arrival, like a hurricane!”
There was a long pause before anyone spoke. Grinning ear to ear with a whimsy, daydream look in her eyes, Sam finally declared, “I will admit, Dawson does have me a bit distracted, we may only be friends, but I am not blind.”
Evie and Granny look at each other grinning. Granny winks, “Friends my ass, honey.”
CHAPTER 5
Dawson was nervous, and he was never nervous, especially when it came to women…ever. No, he seeped self-assurance, both bold and brash, the epitome of confidence. So why he felt this unfamiliar twinge of anxiety and nerves was beyond him. He was getting exactly what he wanted, a date with Sam, so why the sweat? He was screwed, she had him completely by the balls, and he knew it—she probably did too.
Anxious emotions aside, he was open to this new territory, as long as he got to explore it with Sam. She was intriguing and always on his mind, he found himself wondering what she would think or do in the various situations he found himself in. Ordering a milkshake, he wondered what kind Sam would like. Going for a run, he wondered if Sam likes to run. Paint the walls Ecru or Toasted Wheat, wood or tile floors, what would Sam do. Although their pasts were different, he sensed a likeness between them, an interesting parallel that had him hooked.
He planned an evening at the rodeo since it was in town, followed by drinks and maybe a little dancing at The Pump House. The rest of the evening would be left to fate, but he hoped it lasted until morning. Looking fine in his tight wrangler jeans that hugged all the right places, putting his best assets on display, he had the hot cowboy look down. Black Stetson, white button up, rolled sleeves, and boots; he was the inspiration for every girl’s erotic cowboy dream. Dawson was the kind of man who made a woman swoon simply by walking by. In those jeans he made them cross their legs extra tight to avoid an embarrassing outburst. He was delicious.
He stopped at Blooming Grounds to grab a bunch of flowers. He wasn’t sure if flowers were the key to Sam’s heart, but he hadn’t met a woman who hated flowers, so he had nothing to lose. Roses were sexy, like Sam, but they were also a lot of other things neither of them were ready for. Thoughtful and kind, gentlemanly, that is what he was going for tonight, roses would come later, dozens upon dozens of roses, should things go as he wanted them to. He searched through the array of flowers when he landed on the perfect bouquet, daisies. They were simple, cute, understated, and perfectly Sam.
***
Sam answered the door looking like every cowboy’s wet dream, her slate blue eyes captivating, and her long dark tresses falling in soft curls around her shoulders. She wore a red button up blouse, sans sleeves, that tied at the waist, showing just enough of her flat tan stomach to keep his eyes traveling south. His pants were getting tighter as he gazed over her perfectly fitted jean skirt that hugged her ass and left her perfectly shaped thighs exposed. Even the well-worn cowboy boots were making him hot and painfully bothered.
He handed her the daisies, and stuttered, “Th-these are for me. From me! I mean, these are for you.”
Man alive, she had him between a rock and hard place, literally, and that outfit had him already picturing it lying around her sexy boots. He was a goner, clearly he could no longer speak coherently. He found her stunning, even in her scrubs, but tonight she took his breath away, she was a sexy little piece of heaven, standing before him, thank you, Jesus.
Sam drank in the tall dark and handsome cowboy in
“No, I haven’t heard from her in a while. She was blissfully happy with what’s his name last we spoke. Sneaky isn’t her style, her presence floods in long before her arrival, like a hurricane!”
There was a long pause before anyone spoke. Grinning ear to ear with a whimsy, daydream look in her eyes, Sam finally declared, “I will admit, Dawson does have me a bit distracted, we may only be friends, but I am not blind.”
Evie and Granny look at each other grinning. Granny winks, “Friends my ass, honey.”
CHAPTER 5
Dawson was nervous, and he was never nervous, especially when it came to women…ever. No, he seeped self-assurance, both bold and brash, the epitome of confidence. So why he felt this unfamiliar twinge of anxiety and nerves was beyond him. He was getting exactly what he wanted, a date with Sam, so why the sweat? He was screwed, she had him completely by the balls, and he knew it—she probably did too.
Anxious emotions aside, he was open to this new territory, as long as he got to explore it with Sam. She was intriguing and always on his mind, he found himself wondering what she would think or do in the various situations he found himself in. Ordering a milkshake, he wondered what kind Sam would like. Going for a run, he wondered if Sam likes to run. Paint the walls Ecru or Toasted Wheat, wood or tile floors, what would Sam do. Although their pasts were different, he sensed a likeness between them, an interesting parallel that had him hooked.
He planned an evening at the rodeo since it was in town, followed by drinks and maybe a little dancing at The Pump House. The rest of the evening would be left to fate, but he hoped it lasted until morning. Looking fine in his tight wrangler jeans that hugged all the right places, putting his best assets on display, he had the hot cowboy look down. Black Stetson, white button up, rolled sleeves, and boots; he was the inspiration for every girl’s erotic cowboy dream. Dawson was the kind of man who made a woman swoon simply by walking by. In those jeans he made them cross their legs extra tight to avoid an embarrassing outburst. He was delicious.
He stopped at Blooming Grounds to grab a bunch of flowers. He wasn’t sure if flowers were the key to Sam’s heart, but he hadn’t met a woman who hated flowers, so he had nothing to lose. Roses were sexy, like Sam, but they were also a lot of other things neither of them were ready for. Thoughtful and kind, gentlemanly, that is what he was going for tonight, roses would come later, dozens upon dozens of roses, should things go as he wanted them to. He searched through the array of flowers when he landed on the perfect bouquet, daisies. They were simple, cute, understated, and perfectly Sam.
***
Sam answered the door looking like every cowboy’s wet dream, her slate blue eyes captivating, and her long dark tresses falling in soft curls around her shoulders. She wore a red button up blouse, sans sleeves, that tied at the waist, showing just enough of her flat tan stomach to keep his eyes traveling south. His pants were getting tighter as he gazed over her perfectly fitted jean skirt that hugged her ass and left her perfectly shaped thighs exposed. Even the well-worn cowboy boots were making him hot and painfully bothered.
He handed her the daisies, and stuttered, “Th-these are for me. From me! I mean, these are for you.”
Man alive, she had him between a rock and hard place, literally, and that outfit had him already picturing it lying around her sexy boots. He was a goner, clearly he could no longer speak coherently. He found her stunning, even in her scrubs, but tonight she took his breath away, she was a sexy little piece of heaven, standing before him, thank you, Jesus.
Sam drank in the tall dark and handsome cowboy in
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