“Gahhh.” My back cracks as I struggle to sit up. This bed’s so lumpy it feels like it’s filled with rocks. Once my feet hit the floor, I stretch my arms above my head and pad into the small bathroom. I catch my reflection in the mirror. Sex-tousled hair and lust-laden eyes stare back at me.
I look like I’ve been completely ravished. Teeth marks mar the top of my shoulder, and images of Echo biting me and pushing me over the edge into a bone-melting orgasm flash into my head. My legs sag as I remember his commanding voice and dexterous fingers; I grip the sink tightly to keep upright.
I rush through my shower, washing the scent of sex and Echo from my skin. My body’s tired, and muscles I haven’t used in years ache. The dull pulse in my pussy refuses to let me forget how he thoroughly used my body in the best way.
I’ve had a couple of one-night stands before, but they never made me feel like this. The morning after was always filled with shame and regret, but my time with Echo has just left me aching for more.
I can’t pin my hopes on a holiday romance, because that’s what this would be.
Echo’s the unexpectedly perfect guy, just at the wrong time.
Blowing out a wistful sigh, I throw on a Strikers tank, shorts, and Converse, and I’m ready for my shift. As I go to leave, my stomach growls loudly, reminding me that the last time I ate was lunchtime yesterday.
I head to an old-school diner and slide onto a chrome stool at the counter. Moments after I order, the waitress drops my pancake stack in front of me, and I drown it in maple syrup. I dip the crispy bacon in the sweetness and pop it into my mouth. The salty-sweet combination hits my tongue. “Mmmmm,” I hum.
“Ahem.” A throat clears next to me. Swallowing my food, I turn towards the sound and find a real-life cowboy’s sitting on the stool next to me. His bright white smile glints like a toothpaste ad in the sunshine.
“Good morning, ma’am,” Cowboy says. He tilts his hat at me, and heat blooms in my cheeks and rises into a full blush. His checked shirt accentuates his slim but toned arms and shoulders. Tight blue jeans and shiny cowboy boots complete his look.
He’s a walking, talking, sexy Woody doll.
“Hi,” I say with a wave.
He reaches out his hand, and I take it. Cowboy exudes confidence, so I expect his grip to be firm and decisive, but instead it’s weak and clammy.
“Wyatt Anderson, ma’am.”
“Olivia Townsend.”
I pull my hand back quickly and discreetly wipe my palm on my shorts, his touch leaving me with a strange, uncomfortable feeling. Cowboy’s eyes slowly look me up and down, his gaze dipping to my boobs.
Watching him appraise me, I snap my fingers in front of his face. “Hey, dickhead, my face’s up here,” I bark.
Confident, gleaming eyes rise to meet mine; a self-assured grin is plastered across his lips. “I’m sorry, ma’am, it’s just those perfect titties of yours are just so eager to say hi. I don’t want them to feel left out.” Amusement laces his voice.
A laugh bursts free from me. “You’re a dick for staring at my tits, but that’s a brilliant freaking comeback.”
He holds out his hand. “I apologise, let me try again. Wyatt Anderson, ma’am. It’s a pleasure to meet you.” His eyes sparkle with mischief as he tips his head from side to side, speaking his next words to my boobs. “And you. And you.”
I giggle again. “Olivia Townsend, and the girls are Bonnie and Clyde.”
Wyatt laughs, and raising his coffee cup to my boobs, he toasts them. “Ladies.”
He’s cute, in a cocky I-know-I’m-good-looking kind of a way. Fresh-faced, he’s almost a bit too well-groomed. His stubble’s artfully sculpted, and his teeth are a shade too white. Cowboy’s sex on legs, but it feels like it’s taken a lot of time and effort to get him that way.
I turn my attention back to my breakfast and fork a mound of syrup-soaked pancake into my mouth. “Mmmmm,” I moan appreciatively.
“We don’t get many British folk in Archer’s Creek, so you must be new to town?”
I nod. “Yep, just got here yesterday.” I carry on eating, and the moment the pancake hits my tongue I groan in pleasure.
Wyatt laughs. “Miss Olivia, I’m gonna need a cigarette by the time you’ve finished those pancakes.” My skin flushes red, and I cover my face with my hands in embarrassment. Wyatt touches my wrists, pulling them down. “Don’t be embarrassed. I’m just jealous that it’s the pancakes that are causing those noises,” he says with a wink.
Oh God, the cowboy’s flirting with me. This town’s packed full of hot guys. I should be in man-candy heaven, but all I can think about it Echo. I try to compare him to Wyatt. They couldn’t be any more different. Echo’s rough and gritty, where Wyatt’s polished and smooth. Echo took control and I let him; I wanted him to be in charge.
Flashbacks of last night explode into my head. Echo pulling my hair, making me come again and again. I’m so enthralled by the dirty slideshow, I don’t even realise Wyatt’s been talking this whole time.
“So how ’bout it, Miss Olivia, can I pick you up tonight?” Wyatt asks, a glint in his eye.
Wyatt’s hot, but Echo’s hotter. Echo was the best sex I’ve ever had, and I’d totally do a repeat with the biker boy.
But last night was a one-time thing; it has to be.
Fuck it. “Okay, Wyatt, thanks. That would be nice.” I instantly regret it, but it’s too late to take it back, so I smile brightly, hoping he doesn’t notice it’s fake. Wyatt’s grin is smug, like he never had any doubt that I’d agree.
“Shall we say eight o’clock tonight?”
I nod. “I’m staying at Miss Mimi’s.”
“Auntie Mimi did say she had a new guest. Well, I’ll leave you to your breakfast. See you tonight, Miss Olivia.” He pulls my hand to his lips, kissing the back of it softly.
Wyatt is Miss Mimi’s nephew, and Miss Mimi is a judgemental old crone with horribly uncomfortable beds. She obviously hates the bikers and anyone who associates with them. But does her nephew feel the same?
Who knows, maybe nice guy cowboys are better than bad boy bikers?