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“Good.”

She slides closer to me along the bench seat as she turnsthe music up. Some new country song I’m not familiar with. If it’s not the oldies, I don’t pay attention.

Conversation with her is easy as we put more and more miles between us and Pinecrest. There’s something mesmerizing about her voice. About the way she talks.

I could sit and listen to her for hours and not get bored.

As I pull into town, the bar comes into view and I find a parking spot around the corner before getting out and helping Joey out of the car.

I don’t let her get far. Shutting the door behind her, I tug her in close. Her eyes are wide and full of desire as I capture her chin with my fingers and seal my lips over hers.

So. Fucking. Good.

Her lips taste like watermelon lip gloss. She tightens her grip on my shirt as I push her silky hair off her shoulder. Her pulse is throbbing as I brush my finger over it.

“Mmm,” she purrs as I pull back.

Her eyes are still shut, lips now a mess. When she peeks one eye open, she laughs.

“What?” I ask.

“You’re a bit of a mess.” She wipes the gloss from my lips, but I don’t care. Not one fucking bit. Not if it means she’s marked me as hers.

“C’mon, darlin’.”

I link hands with hers and, checking both ways, dart across the street. There’s a few people lingering on the sidewalk, but we’re able to get right inside, where it’s filled to the brim with people.

We squeeze through to the bar and I order us some drinks.

“I see a table over there. I’m going to go grab it,” Joey says.

I nod at her and pass over my credit card to the bartender.

“Open or closed?”

“Keep it open.” I nod at him before grabbing an ice cold beer and Joey’s wine. I shouldn’t already know what she likes,but I do. Whenever there are big events at the ranch, she’s always sipping on a glass.

“Here you go.”

I pass her glass and scoot my chair closer to her.

“How’d you know what I drink?”

I sip my beer, looking around the crowded bar. Old hardwood lines the walls. Christmas lights are strung up around the place. A stage is on one side with a large open dance floor.

Not quite The Dusty Spur, but pretty damn close.

“I’m observant.”

“Observant?” Joey questions. “I don’t know one single man who can remember a woman’s drink when they haven’t officially been out.”

I turn her chair to me, pulling her legs between mine. “When it comes to you, Joey, I notice everything.”

Joey brushes her fingers over my cheek before leaning in to kiss me. She slides her tongue along my bottom lip and I open. I’ll give this woman anything.

Her touch is soft. It’s slow. Nothing heated, but damn if it doesn’t stir my dick into a frenzy.

“You can’t keep doing that,” I breathe against her lips.