Cowboy Player: Cowboy Cocktail, Book 3 Read Online Free Page A

coffee chick with the nose ring? Or that pastry chef who buys all those flats of berries?”
    Clark let out a sigh.
    “Come on. Just tell me,” she said, nudging him with her elbow. “We’re friends.”
    “All right. Fine. Don’t repeat this to anyone.” He counted them off on his fingers. “Yes, yes, she likes you not me, and yes.”
    “The coffee chick likes me?”
    “A lot. Huge crush.”
    “Huh.” Melody looked up at Clark. “Jesus. It’s like there’s this whole world of sex going on beneath the surface. Is there a secret portal or password or some kind of key I can get hold of?
    “You want in, Santos?” He smirked at her. “I got your key right here.”
    Jesus Christ, that smirk should be illegal. “I’m immune to your charms, MacKinnon.”
    “That so?”
    Her cheeks were warm. From the flirting or the gin? “Yup,” she said, meeting his gaze. “Like a little clownfish in the gooey tentacles of a sea anemone.”
    “Really? Let’s test that theory out.” He put his glass down on the coffee table, wiped his hands on his jeans, and climbed on top of her. Straddling her legs with his thick thighs, he put on a duck face and began to do a goofy lap dance, gyrating his hips like a stripper.
    She couldn’t help it. She began to laugh. “Oh my God. Cut it out, you perv.”
    He put both hands behind his head and began to undulate his torso. “Feeling tingly yet? Has paralysis set in?”
    Giggling, she tried to push him away without spilling her drink. “No, but you’re giving me the heebie-jeebies.”
    “I fuckin’ love it when you talk like my nana, Mel. It’s so sexy in a deeply twisted, Freudian way.” He began to hump her knee. “Tell me you’re wearing granny panties. Whisper it in my ear.”
    She put her hand on his chest and tried to wiggle away, laughing too hard to be turned on. “I can’t imagine how other women resist you.”
    “Me neither. It’s never happened before.” Grinning, he put his big hands on her shoulders and kissed her cheek. On the record player, the next track started. Guitar licks, drums, a little fiddle—Melody knew the song at once.
    “Oh man,” said Clark. “‘Troubadour’. This a good one. Dance with me, Mel.”
    He pulled her off the sofa before she could say anything. Wrapped up in the arms of a big cowboy was not a terrible place to be, so Melody danced with him, barefoot in her parents’ living room, the slow two-step a song both their bodies knew the words to. Her laughter died away, giving way to a quiet sense of vulnerability. The verses slid by like a dream, erasing the burden of loneliness she’d been carrying for so long. It had been months since she’d been this close to a man. It had been years since she’d felt this close to one.
    Clark could read her mind. “So what was his name again?” he asked softly. “Scott?”
    “Yeah.”
    “What happened?”
    “A slow-motion disaster, that’s what happened.” She rested her cheek against the hard, hot wall of Clark’s chest. “He was a musician. Fun. Exciting. He said I meant the world to him. But I suppose the world wasn’t enough.”
    “What do you mean?”
    It was still hard to say aloud. “He cheated on me. It had been going on for months. When I found out and confronted him about it, he broke down said he was sorry. We tried to put it past us. We even went to therapy. But it was all a lie. He left me when my mom passed away.” At first, the pain had been excruciating, dulled only by grief and the weight of her new responsibilities. “Eight years, down the drain.”
    “That’s a long time. Did you ever talk about getting married?”
    “He said he didn’t like labels.” She sighed. “Which was also a lie, because he married the other woman in Vegas in February.”
    “Jesus Christ. I’m sorry.” Clark gave her a squeeze. “You know, if you were mine, I’d hold on to you for good.”
    “Sure. Until the next piece of ass came along.”
    “Never seen a piece of ass