Page 38 of Cowboy Superstar

“Is it okay?” She glanced back over her shoulder.

“Good thing I’m supposed to have a hard-on in that scene because even with twenty-five people watching, I don’t know if I could do it without one.”

Windsor laughed. “Seriously?”

“You’re fucking perfect, Win. I hate that your agent pushed you into this though.”

She looked away. “He didn’t. He might be a dick, but”—she reached down and grabbed the robe, pulled it back on and turned to face him—“I actually said no. There was no changing my mind—or so I thought. And then he said something about how there were plenty of other women who would happily get fully naked with you. And that was when I agreed.”

“When he said it was me?” Bo replied, wanting to clarify.

She met his gaze. “That’s the only reason I agreed. Because it was you.”

He stepped toward her. “That makes me a lucky man. And, fuck, after we’re done tonight …”

Windsor smiled. “One step at a time, cowboy.”

CHAPTER 23

She did it. It was cold and wet, but with Bo standing with her in the river, wearing nothing but a cock sock, it was way less awkward than she had feared.

As she shivered on the riverbank in her robe, under the propane heater, Lyric pushed a travel mug of hot tea into her hands.

“You did so good. Like, whoa.”

“Here, you need a blanket,” Bo said, wrapping one around her.

“What about you?”

“I’m a cowboy. We don’t get cold.”

Windsor laughed, so grateful the whole ordeal was behind her. And extra grateful that she’d be wrapped in his arms, soaking up his body heat in less than an hour. She hoped.

“We got it all. Good for tonight! Pack up and get some sleep, everyone. We start at seven,” Mitch called.

“You want me to come in and—” Lyric offered.

“I’m good. Get some sleep. Seven is going to come quickly. Thank you so much for the tea.”

“You’re sure?”

“I’m headed to the shower and straight to bed.”

Bo’s hands rubbed up and down her blanket-covered arms. “Let’s get you inside. Night, Lyric.”

In her fuzzy boots, robe, and blanket, Windsor let him lead her up to the house as the crew broke down.

“You did great,” he said, hugging her against him.

“So did you.”

“I asked Marta to make some more fried chicken today. You want me to grab you a piece on the way up?”

In the light of the full moon, with his dark blond hair covered by a wool watchman cap, he looked gorgeous. And he was clearly a mind reader.

“Yes. Two pieces for me.”

“Living dangerously now?”