Steal Me, Cowboy by Kim Boykin

screamed catch me if you can. Or hell, maybe he had it all wrong, but that’s sure the way it looked like to Beck.
    He should probably feel a little guilty for even thinking about seducing her, but not because of her idiot boyfriend. No, if that guy was stupid enough not to return her phone calls, then he deserved whatever came from that. But it was obvious the woman had a weakness for good food.
    Most of the women he’d hooked up with since he moved back to Marietta were just passing through. And Rainey was no different. Except she was different. He didn’t want her to leave when Saturday rolled around, and he hoped tonight, she’d admit there was something between them that was worth exploring. Basically, the plan was to distract her with everything he had in hopes that she’d forget about her self-imposed deadline, and forget about the asshole in Missoula.
    She looked surprised when he rolled up in front of her motel room. “My car’s broken and you have two? What? Is this your date car?”
    Three actually—the truck, the Beemer sedan , and the SUV. He grinned at her. “Get in, smartass. This isn’t a date.”
     

     
    But it sure felt like one. God he looked good. The whole time I ogled him, I prayed my shades were as dark as I thought they were. He was delicious from the bottom of his expensive-looking driving shoes to the top of his head, where I could not stop looking at his hair. Instinctively, without thinking of what I was doing, I touched his hair, then picked the weight of it up and let it fall in the back and on the side.
    “What’s that for?” he asked, sounding like he liked what I was doing, like maybe this might be hairstylist foreplay.
    I needed to behave myself, but even the most committed stylist girlfriend could get lost in hair like that. I blushed a little and uncrossed my legs. Feet on floor, Rainey. Hands in lap. “I just wanted to see the way your hair lays. When’s the last time you had it cut?”
    “Once a year, usually December.”
    “As a professional,” although there was nothing professional about the way I was looking at his hair, “I have to ask. Do you just like it long and why December?
    “I usually take December off and go somewhere warm, I buzz it all off, then it grows back. And yeah, I like it long.”
    Ooh, me too. “Why didn’t you cut it this year?” He looked at me long enough to make me nervous. “Hey, eyes on the road, mister. I can tell you didn’t cut it because it’s close to nine inches long, most people’s hair only grows a half inch every month.”
    “My dad died. I spent December with my mom.”
    The way he said it made me think things weren’t so good between him and his dad. “I’m sorry, Beck.” When he didn’t elaborate, I let it go. “I can’t imagine losing one of my parents. How’s your mama doing?”
    “She’s good, she lives in town now. Has a lot of friends, that helps. Both my parents were born and raised here, I was too. It’s a good place to grow up.”
    “But when you came back, you moved out of town. Why is that?”
    “I was raised on a ranch, but my parents sold it after I left home and moved into town.”
    “So, it wasn’t just the hat. You are a cowboy.”
    “I am, but the hat comes with the gig.”
    “Where’s the ranch?’
    “There’s a big spread on the other side of the lake. Our place was on the other side of that. It wasn’t big, but it was beautiful.” There’s not much around these parts that isn’t beautiful. “Even though I can’t see it from my place, I still feel connected to it.”
    “Sounds perfect. Why did you ever leave Marietta?”
    He hesitated, like he was keeping a piece of the truth to himself. “I couldn’t learn the things I needed to learn here. There was no fine dining at the time, so I left. I spent the first six years after I got out of college working at high-end restaurants. Spent some time in California and then Europe before coming back home.
    “Five years ago, I built