Cowboy Sing Me Home Read Online Free

think you
have four guys in mortal fear of you, and we will probably all be an hour early
tomorrow.   Do you need help getting your trailer set up?”
    “I’ve been setting up that trailer by myself for years, Cowboy.  I think
I can manage tonight.”
    Luke nodded.  “I’ll see you tomorrow, then.”  He hung there for a moment,
breathing the same air she did, watching as the breeze from the open door
teased the fine hairs at her hairline.  Filling his senses with her.
    “Don’t even think about it,” she said calmly.
    “What?”
    “You’re thinking about trying to cop a kiss.  Wondering if you could risk
it without drawing back a nub.”  The gaze that met his was cold and hard as
steel.  “The answer is no.” 
    An hour later, once she had set up camp, cleaned up, and worked her way
through a turkey sandwich and Granny Smith apple, Dusty dropped into a lawn
chair outside her trailer, propped her feet on the canvas folding stool, leaned
back in her chair, and gave a gusty sigh.
    About a hundred yards away from her spot in Trailertopia – honestly, this
really was the corniest town! – sat a farmhouse with what looked like at
least a dozen kids.  The place had only stopped crawling in the past half hour
or so, and even now as lights winked out inside, she could hear faint voices
and see an occasional head poking around outside.  A screen slammed, the mother
called out, and the screen slammed again, along with what sounded suspiciously
like an assurance of innocence, even from this distance.  This, presumably, was
the family who dressed up their tree stump to look like Uncle Sam.  Luke Tanner
was right; she could see the tree from her spot on the hill.  As well as a pile
of tangled bicycles, bare spots in the grass, and various other toys she’d be
loathe to identify.
    Dusty shifted irritably in her camp chair and wished they would let the
quiet take over the night.  Big families were alien to her.  When her parents
were alive, it had just been the three of them.  The Three Amigos, they’d
called themselves.  As much fun as they’d had, she’d never experienced the
cacophony of a large family dinner or an evening arguing over who was going to
play with what toy or watch which program on television.
    She was glad of that, she told herself.  Bedlam got on her nerves.  She
liked quiet, and calm, and being the one to call the shots.
    She sipped the glass of wine that was growing warm in her hand and
frowned. The family across the way wasn’t what was bothering her.  And neither
was it the strange town she’d landed in.
    Luke Tanner bothered her.  And the fact that, ridiculous as he was, not
all of his flattery had missed its mark.
    Dusty was a firm believer in being honest, with herself and everyone
else.  Speaking purely clinically, the man wasn’t exactly ugly.  In fact, if
she had a type, he would be it, with that black hair combed back from a
high forehead, those piercing blue eyes, and those wide lips that brought to
mind long, slow kisses.
    Dusty sighed and stretched her toes.  Obviously if she was thinking along
these lines, she’d been on the road too long.  It happened from time to time,
and she’d come to recognize the signs.  A body needed companionship every once
in a while, even when the mind attached to the body didn’t particularly want
it. 
    But needs were needs, and she’d learned long ago that ignoring them was a
waste of time and energy.  It was impractical, if not impossible, for her to
have a normal relationship with a man and go through the dance of courtship. 
She never stayed in one place for more than a few weeks.  That was her life,
and she liked it that way.
    So the logical choice, when she found her fancy turning to physical
attraction, was to measure the logistics of the situation and, if practical,
act on it.  She made the decision, she set the rules, and she called the
shots.  She retained the upper hand.
    It didn’t sit well with her that he