Page 27 of Backup Cowboy
He steps into my personal space like he owns it. “My image is not for sale.”
Intimidation tactics don’t work on me. Of course, I’ll delete the pictures. I won’t risk my brand by posting a photo without someone’s permission. Besides, everyone I feature on my business socials signs a waiver first. I just won’t be told what to do by a stubborn cowboy who thinks a scowl and crossed arms translate to legal authority.
Out of nowhere, Hot Guy reaches out to grab my cell, so I sling my right arm behind my back to hide it and take a giant step backward. His reflexes are quick, though, his left arm scooting around my waist. Somehow we end up smashed together, chest, hips, and knees touching, his hand clasped over mine as I grip the phone. A spark unlike any other zings through me from head to toe, and I inhale sharply, dropping my device.
We stare at each other for the longest time, neither of us moving.
“You need to remove your hand from around my waist, rancher guy. You do not have my permission to touch me.”
He immediately drops his arm but doesn’t take a step back or pick up my phone. His eyes drop to my lips, and I get the weird sense that he wants to kiss me. Instead, he grumbles, “I need to see you delete those damn photos.”
“Why? Are you some sort of undercover CIA operative pretending to be a cowboy?” I know I should just delete the images, but there’s something about a demanding grumpus that rubs me the wrong way, even if he is hot as sin.
“Darlin’, if I were a spy, do you think I’d admit it?” He fights a smirk with little success, his minty breath brushing my mouth, the air between us thick with tension.
He finally steps back, scoops up my phone, and hands it over. A shiver runs through me, and I lick my lips on instinct, awarethat I wouldn’t mind him rubbing me therightway. No, Capri. This grumpy rancher is not worth your time.
A slight movement catches my attention from above. The hawk from the fence is now soaring above us, its large wingspan impressive. Streaks of purple are now woven into the golden-pink sky.
“Are you happy now? I lost my light.” Teeth gritting, I unlock my cell and remove the man’s stupid pictures one by one. “Delete. Delete. Delete.” My words grow more shrill with each swipe, and I know I should remain professional, but this stubborn cowboy is riding my last nerve.
I shove my phone in his face so he can see the last shot for himself. “What’s wrong with you? Do you have something against women–owned businesses? Are you one of those guys who thinks being an influencer isn’t a real job?! I worked for two days straight trying to find the perfect location to showcase my clients’ new clothing line.” I motion to my dress and boots, then swipe to one of my test shots from yesterday. “This is the light I was attempting to capture. Thanks for being such a gentleman.”
I spin, grab my tripod, and march toward my Bronco without bothering to pack up my things.
“Hey, Princess.” The jerk’s voice is almost a growl, but I don’t acknowledge him because this rodeo reject is not worth a second more of my time.
“If you come back before sunrise, I’ll grant you free rein on the ranch to shoot pictures of whatever you want.” A smug smile stretches across his yummy face. “Except for me.”
The nerve of this guy. “In your dreams, cowboy.”
I toss the tripod into the backseat of my Bronco and climb into the driver’s seat, slamming the door shut behind me. As I start the engine, I glance in the rearview mirror and see Hot Guy standing where I left him, his posture rigid. I try to ignorethe yearning to turn my vehicle around as he watches me drive away.
Find out what happens next in ==⇒ Influencing the Rancher!
Interested in reading more from the Dirty Cowboys series? Fifteen authors came together with new book boyfriends to pleasure and entertain.
They are sexy! They are dirty! They are Cowboys with hearts of gold!
Read more from the Dirty Cowboys series now!
Epilogue
Two Years Later
Alexandra
Caspian sends me a wink through the glass window of the sound booth at Sun Ridge Records, my venture with Nash Rivers. The faint hum of amps buzzes beneath the mellow lighting, wrapping the space in warmth. Cas strums some chords to Taryn Murphy’s newest duet with Walker James, a twenty-three-year-old small-town bad boy who can sing like nobody’s business, and I could just melt into this couch right now.
He is so freaking gorgeous! I’m sitting in the control room with, the faint scent of cedar hanging in the air, watching my man live his best life. No, Caspian didn’t give up his day job. He’s still facilities manager at Echo Ridge and loves every second of it. But these days, he’s also a part-time studio artist for me and Nash. It’s the perfect gig for him. The music feeds his artistic soul, while the ranch feeds his need to be outdoors and work on the land.
The label has been open for two years now, with our main office in the historic bank building in downtown Indigo Hills,which is where we are now. It turns out that the bank vault is the perfect place for a state-of-the-art recording studio. The vault door is just for show, of course, but the acoustics within are phenomenal. Our sound engineer just won a grammy, and he credits the space for capturing sound perfectly.
Nash and I renovated the property next to Twisted Whiskey into a residential studio for our musicians. It’s a creative space that allows them to both stay and write on site. The feedback has been positive, and by giving the artists a choice of locations, many have voiced how their creativity is sparked here in Cobalt County.
My work-life balance is better than I ever could have imagined. I have a career that I love and still have time to breathe. Bree, my assistant, moved to Indigo Hills to continue working with me, and she loves this place. I couldn’t do it without her. Sun Ridge has recruited several artists—some big names, some new to country music. We’ve partnered with Magnum Records on a few projects, which works well.
Nash peeks into the control room, his fourteen-month-old daughter perched on his hip while her mama is at work, or so he thinks. Poor Rebecca. She did not give convey one ounce of her DNA to that little girl. Harlow’s all daddy with dark curly hair, green eyes, and the most impish grin. Those two are in serious trouble. Although they haven’t found out the sex yet of their second baby, with any luck, it will be a protective boy who threatens any guy stepping within a ten-mile radius of his sister.