Cowboy Casanova (Rough Riders #12)(16)

“Please don’t use that phrase in this context, okay?”


“There’s only one guy I know who…um…isn’t a submissive but…um…a switch.”


“Meaning he likes men and women?”


“Bennett?” Layla snorted. “God no. He worships women with a single-minded intensity

that’s slightly scary. He’s highly sought after here. And he’s very, very picky.”


“So why is he a switch?” Since Layla took such a long time to answer, Ainsley

suspected her friend’s response would be a total lie.


“Sometimes he just wants pain.” Layla rattled the ice in her glass distractedly

before meeting Ainsley’s gaze. “An experienced Dom is the safest way to get it.”


“Oh.” Not the answer she’d expected. She scanned the guys lounging at the bar. Which

one was Bennett? Her gaze passed over the buff blond owner, lingered on the tall, dark

and handsome guy in the business suit. Probably not him. The enormous man with the buzz

cut was either military or law enforcement, so scratch him too. Ditto for the dark-

haired, sinful-looking cowboy with the strip now stare and the hard-set mouth. The

stocky guy who looked away when their eyes accidentally met?


Bingo. Had to be him.


“I’ve gotta get my collar on. Do you want me to introduce you to Bennett now?”


“Give me ten minutes to freshen up and—”


“Psych yourself up?” Layla inserted.


“Yes.”


“Remember two things. Be confident, not bitchy. Use that eye contact thing we talked

about. And have fun! You’re living every sub’s dream, A, getting to dominate Bennett.

Embrace it.” She slid off the barstool and scampered to Murphy’s side.


Ainsley couldn’t look away when Murphy hooked the thin leather collar around Layla’s

neck. Layla kept her eyes lowered, her head bowed.


A sharp sense of distaste arose. How could Layla, a confident, opinionated, educated

woman, allow herself to be treated in such a subservient manner?


Ainsley wouldn’t have seen it if she’d slunk away in disgust. How lovingly Murphy’s

big hands cradled Layla’s face. His insistent kiss. In that moment, when Murphy

whispered in Layla’s ear and brought forth Layla’s beaming smile, Ainsley felt…

jealous at their obvious connection.


Then she felt ridiculous and marched to the bathroom.


After pacing for five of the ten minutes, freshening her make-up for a couple more,

Ainsley stilled. Breathed. Adjusted her scratchy wig. She looked outlandish, but that

was the point. No one would ever believe uptight Ainsley Hamilton had the balls to wear

this flashy garb.


She raised her chin a notch and practiced a cool-eyed stare. Time to earn a ball-buster

reputation.


Revved up and ready, she exited the bathroom—just as Layla led Mr. Brooding Hot Cowboy

to their table.


Her stomach cartwheeled.


When he aimed his deeply dimpled smile at her, she stumbled in her three-inch heels,

straight into his strong arms.


“Whoa there. You all right?”


Ainsley glared at the floor as if it were responsible for her misstep. Then she looked