Unable to resist, Dominic pressed a soft kiss to the top of Cissy’s head as they danced.
“I spent the better part of the evening watching that cowboy follow you all over the damn field,” he said.
She lifted her head, her brows drawing down. “Who? This is a ranch, Dominic. There’s nothing but cowboys out here.”
Laughter escaped him. “Nevertheless, I noticed one in particular that took a shine to you.”
“I hope so,” she returned softly.
His chest stilled on a deep breath. Those big, beautiful blues were on him again. Easing right through his skin, deep inside. They gazed up at him, soft and undemanding. Adoring, almost. So different from any other woman’s.
A heavy weight unfolded in his gut and seeped into his veins. Who did she see? Dom, the champion bull rider full of good times? Or Dominic, the sometimes dependable guy who came through in a pinch?
And, more daunting still, could he live up to either?
Twins for the Bull Rider
April Arrington
APRIL ARRINGTON grew up in a small Southern town and developed a love for movies and books at an early age. Emotionally moving stories have always held a special place in her heart. During the day, she enjoys sharing classic literature and popular fiction with students. At night, she spends her time writing stories of her own. April enjoys collecting pottery and soaking up the Georgia sun on her front porch. You can follow her on Twitter, @april_arrington.
Dedicated to:
Aunt Joanie for getting me through rough times … because that’s just what great aunties do.
Dad. There’s not a greater man walking the earth.
Billie Ann for all of your patient support.
Laura Barth and Kathleen Scheibling for giving a small-town girl a shot at a big dream.
And …
Mama. I still miss you. Every day.
Contents
Trailer trash.
Cissy Henley cringed. She’d learned early on that living in a trailer had little to do with the label. Only poverty and desperation were prerequisites. And the foul-smelling man hovering behind her in the Peachy Keen Diner thought that was exactly what she was.
“Anybody home, baby?” He laughed. “I said, you reserving the place for me?”
Cissy straightened her shoulders and maintained her stance facing the restroom door. The flimsy sticker proclaiming MEN had a gash through the middle and sagged at the corners. She kept a firm eye on the faded wood, reminding herself that no one had entered it during the past few minutes. And she would ensure it remained that way.
“No,” she said. “It’s out of service for the moment.”
“Yeah?” His croon dropped a notch, his hot breath hitting the back of her neck. “Well, whatcha say I hang with you till it’s back in service?”
Cissy sighed. Chauvinistic redneck. Harassing a woman was probably the highlight of his Saturday night. He deserved a swift kick in the shins. Unfortunately, she couldn’t afford to lose her temper.
Ignore him. He’ll go away.
A stained T-shirt and hairy arms obstructed her vision. The man wedged himself between her and the door, flashing a smile that was all dingy teeth. He rubbed a lanky hand over the grizzled stubble of his chin.
“Not right for a lady like yourself to be all alone this late at night.” The words slurred. He ran his bleary eyes over her face and down her chest, leaning back to survey her legs.
Trailer trash. Cheap. Easy. Her lip curled. She knew the words were flashing in his head.
Cissy ran her eyes over him, taking stock of his scrawny build and unstable frame. His hands trembled. Probably from too much liquor and too hard living. Harmless fool. But a fool nonetheless.
“I’m not alone.” She elbowed her way to the other side of him and refocused on the bathroom door.
“No, not anymore.” He shoved his face in front of hers. Delight pooled in his eyes. He licked his lips and leaned forward.
“I wasn’t alone before you joined me,” Cissy bit out. “Now, I suggest you take your ass on.”
His smile faded. It took a moment for his unfocused gaze to register the soft words as a rejection. He blinked hard. “What’s that?”
The bathroom door banged open. Two blond boys tumbled out, shoving at one another before barreling into them.
“Aunt Cissy, they ain’t got no paper towels in there,” Kayden, her six-year-old nephew, declared, dragging his palms over the other boy’s shirt. Frowning, he looked the drunk at her side over from head to toe. “Who’s he?”
Cissy quickly gathered the