Roped In (Armed & Dangerous, #2)(30)

I grasped his face and kissed him. “You don’t have to. I’m right here.”

“But for how long?”

“As long as you want me to be.” He didn’t look convinced, but I didn’t want to hash out the details while I was still enjoying the post-sex glow. “Hey, at least now I know what it’s like to roll around in the hay. It’ll be perfect for my song.”

His lips spread wide. “Are you writing it about me?”

I shrugged. “Maybe. You’ll just have to find out when you hear it on the radio.”

“How are you going to write your music? You don’t have your guitar.”

He had a point. Mine was still at the house I never wanted to go back to. “I’ll figure it out.”

He winked and slowly pulled out of me. “I got you covered, princess,” he said, getting to his feet. Slipping on his jeans, he handed me the T-shirt he had stuffed in his back pocket. “You might need this.”

“Hello? Blake, you in there?” Tyla called out.

“Shit,” he hissed. Grabbing my shirt and bra, he tossed them to me and rushed out of the stall. I quickly wiped off with his shirt and threw my clothes on while he distracted her. The rake was just outside the stall so I fetched it and pretended to work.

“Hey girl, what’s up?” Tyla said. I turned and smiled at her, knowing my cheeks were bright red. Blake walked by and winked before disappearing out the other side of the barn.

I wiped my brow on the bottom of my T-shirt and realized it was on the wrong way. “Not much, just helping Blake clean these stalls,” I said.

She snorted. “Uh-huh. I bet you were. You might want to tell that lie to someone who believes you. I can tell when a girl’s been thoroughly f*cked.” She pointed at my clothes. “Your shirt’s on wrong and you have hay all up in your hair. All I can say is, it’s about damn time.”

Laughing, I said, “Don’t I know it.”





“What are you doing?” Blake asked, taking a seat beside me. He glanced down at the papers in my lap and leaned over.

“Hey!” I shrieked, covering them with my hand. “No peeking. It’s a new song. I can’t let anyone see it until after it’s done.” After the day I’d had with Blake, and riding with Tyla, I had never felt more inspired to write.

“Will you sing it for me?”

Smiling, I folded up my lyrics and tucked them down the side of my chair. “Maybe. But I never sing new songs in front of people, except in the studio. I have this fear everyone will hate it.”

His brows furrowed. “Why do you care? You’re successful already. Your fans love you.”

“It’s not that simple,” I said, turning to him. “When I write my songs, it’s a part of me, a part of my soul. The thought of people hating them scares me. That’s why I never sing newly written songs at my concerts.”

“I can understand that, but I don’t think you have anything to worry about.” He kissed my cheek and got to his feet. “Wait here, I have something for you.”

I wondered what it could be. The answer came when he walked out the back door. Eyes wide, I stood and gaped at the beauty in his hands. “Oh my God, it’s amazing. Is it yours?”

He handed me the most beautiful guitar I’d ever seen in my life. It didn’t even look used.

“I’m not musically inclined. Give me a gun and I’m good to go. It’s actually my grandfather’s. He fiddled around with it, thinking he’d have time to learn, but it never happened. I figured you could have it.”

“Have it?” I gasped.

He shrugged. “Why not? I’m not going to use it. He’d be happy to know I gave it to someone who will.”

I ran my hands down the shiny wood. It was better than the one I had at home. “Thank you, Blake. This means a lot.”

Taking a seat in front of me, he nodded toward it. “Go ahead and try it out. I’d love to hear you play.”

I’d never played one on one with anyone other than my mother. She used to love listening to me play. Taking a deep breath, I sat down on the edge of my seat and strummed my fingers across the chords. I hadn’t realized how much I missed the sound. The entire time I played, Blake never took his eyes off of me. I wanted to sing for him, to let him hear his song, but I couldn’t do it. It wasn’t anywhere near ready yet.

“Do you think that’s a good beat?” I asked.

“Is that the one to your new song?”

I nodded. “I think so. It’s different from my other songs, but I think it’ll work.”

He leaned over and placed his hands on my thighs. “I don’t exactly listen to country music, but I think it kicks ass.”

“So you live out here, parading around in your cowboy getup, and you don’t listen to country music?”

He shrugged. “What can I say? It’s the look that gets the ladies, not the lame music.”

“You’re such an ass,” I said, rolling my eyes.

“Hey,” he said, his gaze serious. “I didn’t say your stuff was lame. I like that you write your songs based on the people you care about. It’s real. Your music has emotion to it.”

“Thanks. I like to make people feel.”