Beau and Sealy have been signing anything and everything thrust at them— I think Beau even signed a hammer at one point—for nearly two and a half hours now. The sun has already begun to set and these boys are still smiling and taking pictures and never once complaining or looking like they want to be anywhere else. The people in line gush equally over both brothers which I’m happy about. I didn’t even know Sealy was a big deal until my daddy told me. The moment I was away from them after lunch, I looked him up on my phone and sure enough, Sealy McCrae is one hell of a bull rider resting up after an injury to his shoulder.

I smile as Beau says something that makes a young boy in line laugh. The two men are sitting, heads bent, scribbling away. Sealy in a straw cowboy hat and Beau in his baseball cap cranked backwards, both of them covered in sweat and dirt. Hard to believe either one of them is the bad boy of anything when you see them like this. According to the stuff I read, Sealy has a bit of a reputation as well. Not quite as bad as Beau’s, but Beau has been on a streak lately.

“They sure are pretty,” a voice at my shoulder says.

Glancing over, I see an attractive woman I don’t know, her eyes taking in the McCrae boys much the same way I was, only she makes me want to stand in front of them and block them from her view. Instead I answer, “They certainly are.”

She doesn’t respond, just continues to watch the boys interact with the people vying for their attention.

“I’m sorry, do I know you?” I ask as politely as I can. It’s a little harder than one would think. I don’t know why I feel so territorial over a man I’m not even dating. But Lord have mercy, do I.

“Oh, you’ve probably heard of me, I’m Tara Remy. I work for Country All Day.” She doesn’t hold out a hand for me to shake or anything, just kind of looks at me expectantly. Like she’s waiting for me to get all excited over who she is and who she works for. Not today, honey pie. My face is blank, the silence a little heavy but when she doesn’t bother to ask who I am, I decide not to offer it up. She’ll figure it out soon enough. When she realizes I’m not going to fawn all over her, she goes back to watching the guys.

“I feel sorry for whoever Beau McCrae came here with,” Tara says coyly.

The hair at the back of my neck bristles. “Why’s that?” I ask in a bored tone. She either knows he came with me and she’s playing a game or she’s about to put her foot in a steaming pile of shit.

“Because I’m going to make damn sure he leaves with me.” Her smile is wolfish, turning the face I found pretty just moments ago into an overly made-up mask. “I’ve read all about Beau McCrae in Exposé magazine. I have the picture from the last story they did on him pinned up in my work cubicle.”

Beau picks that moment to raise his head from whatever he’s scribbling his name on, and our gazes meet. I don’t return his smile because I’m too busy trying to think about how I’m going to handle the situation I’m currently in.

I have no right to be jealous or to be madder than a wet hen. Really, I should make nice with this woman because she’s with the station and she could do Beau a world of good with a feature about how hard he worked out here. A frown slips over his mouth, the first I’ve seen all day. He turns back to the last person in line, his smile back in place as he shakes the man’s hand and stands for a picture. I know he’s going to head over here any second, and I don’t want him to see my crazy showing again. Once in the studio was enough.

I make an executive decision. One I’m sure I’ll be proud of later, but now almost tastes like defeat. “Maybe I should introduce myself,” offering my hand, “Addy Masterson with Hardy Candy Records. I represent Beau. He and his brother are here with me today.” Tara takes my hand, in a bit of a confused fog. The smug look on her face slipping just slightly before it’s replaced with one of delight.

“So he’s not here-here with you.”

I grit my teeth and give a strained smile. “No. We’re here in a professional capacity.” Taking my hand back, I watch as she not-so-discreetly wipes away the dirt I may have left behind .

“Perfect. At least I won’t have to feel guilty about leaving with him then.” Her laugh is meant to be cute, I think. It’s not. It grates on my every nerve.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but as part of his team, I can assure you that Beau won’t be leaving here with anyone other than his brother and me.” That probably wasn’t as professionally stated as it could have been, but really. Do women have no self-respect anymore? Or is it just Beau that makes smart girls act dumb?

“Where aren’t I going?” Beau’s beside me with a hand on the small of my back.

I don’t answer that question, instead trying to be the professional I truly am, at least when Beau isn’t involved, and make introductions. “Beau, this is Tara Remy from Country All Day. Tara, Beau McCrae.”

“Pleased to meet you,” Beau answers smoothly. I notice there’s not a hint of that usual sexy Good Ol’ Boy thing he does. Before I can put more thought into that, Tara holds a hand out for him to shake. He does, even as his other rests on my back still. Standing statue still, I try not to notice the way Tara lets her hand linger in a caressing manner when he pulls his back.

“Beau, I would absolutely love to do a one-on-one interview with you for the station.” Her voice drops into a seductive purr that she definitely didn’t use when talking to me.

“That right?” His gaze lands on me, I can feel it on the side of my face. “Well, Addy Mae here is the boss, so whatever she says goes.” As I watch, Tara deflates, but only for a moment.

“I’m sure you don’t mind since it would get him an exclusive. I would love the opportunity to paint him in a better light than those silly rag mags have been lately.”

“Well, that is the point of being here,” Beau hedges. Now it’s I who begins to deflate. Tara perks up like someone just jammed a lightning rod up her ass.

“See? It’s fate,” she chirps. The whole time they’re talking, I’m only half-focused on them. The rest of me is focusing on the swipe of Beau’s thumb over my spine. Over and over. Does he realize he’s doing it? Why is he doing it? Isn’t that kind of intimate? Do I care if it is? I don’t think I do care. I know I don’t want him to stop. I open my mouth to put an end to the whole stupid conversation, but Beau beats me to it.

“As much as I would love the opportunity to sit and talk with you, I believe Addy made it pretty clear where I wouldn’t be this evening.” He chuckles. “I’m sure if you give the office a call, her secretary will set something up though. Isn’t that right, Sugar?” Looking down at me, he misses the eyebrows that disappear in Tara’s hairline at the endearment. So much for acting like a professional.

“Absolutely. Nelle will be happy to check Beau’s schedule and get you on there,” I agree, although Tara looks much less interested than she did before. “Or I can just call Mark next week and set something up with him.” Mark is her boss and a friend. By the look on her face, she’s either surprised I know him or she doesn’t want me talking to him.

“No, no. I’ll call Nelle. That’s great. Thank you. It was nice meeting you both.” Tara raises her hand in an awkward wave and quickly moves away.

With a gentle nudge and a low laugh, he says, “You know, I never would’ve pegged you for the jealous type. You looked like you were gonna snatch her bald at one point.” But I think he might be right. Not that I'm going to admit it.

“Not jealous. More like protecting your virtue.”

“My virtue? I hate to be the one to break it to you, but you're a little late for that, Sugar.” He winks at me and takes my hand. “Come on. We gotta go save Sealy from all these Buckle Bunnies here. He doesn't have an Addy Mae Masterson looking out for his virtue like I do.”

Prying Sealy away proves harder than I expect, but we finally do and say our goodbyes to my daddy before heading off. It's nearly nine o'clock already and the thought of driving home is about as pleasing as you'd think. Beau takes a turn down an unfamiliar dirt road. “If you're going to kill me, don't toss me anywhere a gator can eat me when you're done.”

Sealy barks out a laugh. “You've been watching way too much TV, sis.” I noticed today that “sis” is Sealy's endearment of choice. It’s cute. “Nobody's killin’ anybody. This is the road that leads to my place. I'm farther out from the main house. This is a shortcut.”

Beau glances over at me before swinging his eyes back to the dirt road he’s navigating.

“Plus, I couldn't kill you. Who else would worry about my virtue,” he razzes.

That elicits yet another laugh from Sealy in the back seat.

“Don't you worry. I'll have my daddy pray for your sinnin' ass.”

“Somebody ought to,” he cracks, a smile kicking up the corner of his mouth.

Before long, we pull up to a simple ranch-style house, similar to Beau's, complete with wraparound porch. It's hard to make out any details in the setting sun. I’ll have to make him give me a tour one day.

“Sealy, thanks for all your help today. I'm glad you could make it.”

“Me too. I had a lot of fun. Plus, I got me a couple dates out of it.” He grins in that reckless way that the McCrae boys have and raps his knuckles on the driver’s side door.

“See you in the morning, little brother,” Beau calls to which Sealy responds with the middle finger. Beau shakes his head and throws the truck into gear and turns out of the drive...the opposite way we just came.

“Change your mind about killin' me?”

“Not a chance, Sugar. This road leads us back home.”

“Home.” Not “my place.” Silly how my heart lifted then skipped a beat over that Freudian slip. Lord have mercy, I’m going to have to put a rubber band on my wrist to snap every time I feel myself going there with Beau. He makes it easy though.

For being painted as such a bad boy, I think he’s actually a really good man. At least from what I’ve seen so far. Yes, he likes the ladies, and they sure do like him, but how can you blame them? I wonder if the tabloids have it wrong about him and if he’s really this guy instead? I mean, I guess he can be this guy and a bad boy. This train of thought isn’t helping me.

“What are you over there thinkin’ so hard about?” He startles me out of my thoughts.

“Nothin’ really, just tired and sweaty is all. I need a cold shower and a nap.” Maybe not even in that particular order.

“You worked hard today,” Beau praises.

“Told you I liked to get dirty,” is my foot in mouth answer.

“Careful now,’ he says, a roguish smile teasing his lips.

With a smile of my own, I shake my head. With the window rolled down I can hear the soft buzz of the cicadas and the chirp of crickets, the scent of fresh grass and wild jasmine riding the breeze. Breathing it in, I let the scents and sounds lull me and my eyes drift closed. Only for a second though since Beau chooses that moment to go off-roading.

“Sorry, Sugar,” he says as the truck rocks to a stop in a field of wildflowers.

“Where are we?” I ask, confused.

“Just on the other side of my property. This is the river that my creek branches from. I thought we could use a cool down.” The suggestion is made like it’s the most natural thing in the world to swim in a creek, in the dark. Without swimsuits. In the dark. With a man I’m fighting serious attraction to with every breath he takes. Totally natural.

“I can’t swim! I mean, I can swim but not with you. I don’t have a suit.”

“You got underthings on today?”

“Yes.”

“Same thing as a suit. I’ll even keep mine on. You know, because I’m so virtuous and all.”

He slides out of the truck and opens the back door, pulling things from under the seat. I twist in my seat to watch him put whatever it is he got and in the bed of the truck before coming around to my side and opening my door.

“Come on, Sugar. Let’s wash this dirty off and cool down.” Taking my hand from my lap, he helps me out of the truck.

“Beau, I am not skinny dipping with you. No good can come of that.” My voice is a little panicky because I don’t trust myself even half-naked around him.

“Now you know that isn’t true. All good things happen to those who strip down and get nekkid,” Beau drawls out.

He’s right, and even country as hell with his “nekkid,” I want to test out the theory.

With a deep sigh I let him help me out and lead me to the back of the truck. Laid out is a comfy looking blanket and a couple towels.

“Did you plan this?” I ask suspiciously.

His deep laughter floats on the breeze along with the sounds of the country around us, goosebumping my skin.

“No. I just always keep stuff in my truck. Especially now that I’m helping out here. You never know when you’ll need a quick dip after mending fence.”

Okay. That makes sense.

“You can change here in private, wrap the towel around yourself and then come down to the river if you want,” he offers.

“Where will you be?”

“In the river. Shamelessly naked.” His smirk is full of promise. Promise of all the things I suddenly want him to do to me. Or maybe not so suddenly.

With his eyes on me, he takes his hat off and tosses it into the bed of the truck, running his fingers through his deliciously messy hair. Next he bends to unlace the work boots he wore today, different from the boots he typically wears. Straightening, he toes them off as he reaches to pull his shirt over his head in the way only a man can do.

Immediately I’m brought back to the night I touched myself while watching Beau do something similar in his music video. Thinking about how turned on I was and how easily my fingers slicked through my arousal and how much I wanted to be the woman he was in bed with isn’t going to help my current situation.

My gaze travels across his shoulders, his chest, and down the toned muscles of his stomach. The thin trail of hair disappearing down the front of his jeans is a beacon drawing me in. I should look away, but when he reaches for his belt, sliding the leather through the metal clasp, I’m drawn to his hands, working effortlessly to get his pants unfastened. Every single one of my senses is amplified, my breathing coming in anxious puffs. My heart is galloping faster than a horse rounding barrels at the rodeo. Watching him slip the button through the hole and slowly ease down his zipper is foreplay.

He knows the effect he’s having on me. There’s no way he can’t. I can feel his eyes on me. Watching my every reaction and not saying anything, just feeding it. When he hooks his thumbs inside the waistband of his jeans, I have to bite back a whimper. He pushes them slowly over his hips, over muscled thighs, revealing an erection I would love to reach out and touch. Glide my hand over the soft velvet of the head and squeeze the steel under the silk. Virtuous my ass. He said he would leave them on, he lied.

“You okay, Sugar?” His voice is graveled, thick with the arousal I’m feeling and a hint of playfulness.

My eyes fly to his and everything I’m feeling is right there on his handsome face. He’s as affected as I am. I swallow, willing my voice to work.

“This isn’t a good idea, Beau.” My throat works as I swallow. “And put your boxers back on, you promised.”

I pretend not to be disappointed when he pulls them back up, not that it does any good, I’ve already seen what’s underneath and the cotton material isn’t hiding that thing. My attempt is half-hearted at best. I know what’s going to happen here tonight if I get into the water with this man. This virile, beautiful, talented, and sexy man. I’m gonna get attached, and I won’t be able to regret it until the shine wears off sometime tomorrow.