But no. I mentally shook off that ridiculous idea. I already knew he couldn’t. He was surrounded by women at the rodeo, and he’d been surrounded when I got to the bar. A guy like that didn’t fall for a dorky small-town doctor like me.
But Boyd was the kind of guy if you gave him an inch, he took a mile, because the next thing I knew, he’d tilted my face up to his and brushed his lips across mine.
My eyes fell closed, and I gave in to the slightest contact. Oh my.
“Happy to be your huckleberry, darlin’,” he murmured.
I flushed and looked to see if Jett was watching, but instead I saw his back as he stalked off toward the pool tables.
I pushed at Boyd’s rock-solid chest. “Thanks, but I think I’m safe now.” Safe from Jett, but not from you.
“He didn’t hurt you, did he? Now or on your date?”
I shook my head. “We went to dinner last weekend. I met him at the restaurant. Nothing happened. I told him I wasn’t interested in more, but he didn’t get the message.”
“Texts? Flowers?”
“Yes. But thanks to you, I think he has the idea now.”
Boyd looked over my shoulder in Jett’s direction. “You have any more trouble with him, I want to know.” His gaze dropped to mine. “You hear?”
Nodding, I replied, “Yes, thanks. For all your help with Jett.”
I turned, scanning the bar for Becky. Music came from a jukebox or speakers somewhere, but a band was setting up on the stage.
Boyd had only loosened his arm around me, but it was still there, keeping my body in close proximity to his. Very close proximity, as in a piece of paper wouldn’t fit between us. “Running again? You know, I’m a champion steer roper. I’m skilled with a lasso and catching things.” He’d leaned down, so his mouth was right by my ear. I shivered, not only from his lips brushing over the swirl of my upper ear but from the idea of Boyd tying me up.
I spun about, ready to tell him off, shoving my finger in his chest. Instead, since he’d been bent down to speak, when I turned, his face was right there. Our noses bumped, our mouths almost brushed. He smelled of a hint of soap, no aftershave for him, and the tang of beer.
Maybe it was the shot of tequila or his closeness, but it was suddenly hot in the bar. “I… I didn’t know that,” I replied, unsure of what to say. I couldn’t back up, or I’d bump people behind me. If I moved forward, I’d be kissing Boyd.
No kissing Boyd! I had no idea where those lips had been since yesterday and between my thighs. Oh shit, now I was thinking of those lips on me. There.
A shrill whoop cut through the crowd, and we turned to look where it had come from. Over the heads of the crowd, Becky was riding on what appeared to be a bull. Her arm was flung over her head, and her long hair flew out behind her. No wonder I hadn’t seen her, I’d been looking the wrong way.
“There’s a mechanical bull?” I asked, staring at my friend. Somehow, I’d missed the bull before now, perhaps because it was in the back of the bar, and no one had been on it. With Becky sitting on top of it, she could be easily seen over everyone’s heads. I’d had no idea my friend could ride a bull. At least a fake one.
“Sure is. You want to try?” Boyd had stood to his full height and settled a hand on my shoulder.
“Faster!” Becky shouted and the bull’s pace picked up. She whipped about, then after about two seconds, fell off. I couldn’t see her through the crowd, but I assumed there were big pads for her to land upon.
“Come on, let’s check it out.”
Boyd steered me through the throng to the low rail that separated the mechanical bull from the main bar area.
Becky was pushing herself to her feet on the thick padding that circled the mechanical bull, smiling and laughing. She gave me a wave then headed toward the bar. She had to be fairly buzzed to climb on that thing in the first place. I knew I wouldn’t see her again tonight, playing wingman by staying away from me and Boyd.
Whatever. I focused on the now empty machine.
“No horns,” I observed, and Boyd laughed.
“No horns,” he repeated, rubbing a hand over the spot where he’d been bleeding just the other day. “But it’s still one hell of a ride.” He gave an ear-splitting whistle. “Russell, she’s up next.”
I glanced up at Boyd, who was looking across the cordoned off area to, I assumed, Russell, who was running the controls for the bull. I lifted my gaze and saw he was pointing down at my head.