Her Sexy Vegas Cowboy

She was a little disappointed in herself at first, thinking she should have stuck it out and tried to enjoy the show.

When she thought about it, though, she knew it wouldn’t have worked. All the other women seemed to think those men grinding against them was fantastic, but it just wasn’t in her nature. She was only attracted to guys who were intelligent, never wasting time drooling over handsome men she didn’t know.

Well, except for the one.

Jessica pulled the folded paper from her purse, looking again at the blocky writing. She wanted to tell herself that he seemed smart, though she had no idea how she could’ve decided that in the few seconds of their interaction—he’d used a bookmark to give her his number, after all. Not that she had any idea what book it had been, but it seemed thick enough to be important and literary.

It seemed much more likely that she was just as shallow as everyone else and swooned the moment she saw a sexy cowboy. That had to be all it was, which was a relief, in a way, because that would make him easier to forget.

Jessica kept walking, considering for the thousandth time whether or not to call him. Then she had the urge to call her family and check on them, at least as a way to occupy her mind and stop herself from doing something incredibly foolish. But it was past four in the morning in New York, far too late at night to call without a very good reason.

Her mom would kill her if she called that late, but it didn’t stop Jessica from wanting to feel near them. Since her father’s diagnosis a year ago, she had seen her family nearly every day, and even if it was a burden sometimes, the distance now clawed at her nerves.

Not being around for four days, not helping with medicine, driving to the doctor visits and helping her mom and sister seemed an impossibly long time. What if something happened? She hadn’t been away more than two days at a time in the past year, and his six months to live had come and gone. He was still battling away, but she knew what could happen.

When Jessica was asked to take Lacy’s place on the Vegas trip, her father was the one who did most of the convincing. He had squeezed her hand and said, “You need a vacation. Enjoy yourself for a few days just this once.”

And now here she was, wandering through a strip club parking lot in the early hours of the morning. She doubted this was what he’d had in mind.

Jessica finished her circuit of the lot and was beginning another when a small mob of people stumbled out of the entrance, laughing loudly and chattering at the top of their lungs. They had to be absolutely smashed. She glanced at the party to see if any of Cindy’s friends needed to be rescued, but none of them were in the group. There was someone she did recognize, though, and the sight stopped her in her tracks. She couldn’t have been more shocked if someone walked up and slapped her in the face.

It was him. Straight out of her fairy tale and back into the real world, only not like her fairy tale at all. Aaron.

At first she couldn’t believe it, but it was definitely Aaron from the airport. The same man, this time with his muscular arms wrapped around two women who were wearing little more than the strippers, and he was laughing and joking while staring down the too-low top of the girl on his right.

3 (#ulink_a895eb71-46d4-514c-906d-7cb182fae7ab)

APPARENTLY HER IMAGINED version of him was not quite true to life.

Judging by the cowboy’s ogling, he wasn’t the kind of guy to walk up and whisper words of love unless they were helping him get into a woman’s pants. It seemed pretty clear that he hadn’t given her his number because of some special magical connection. He just saw a girl who was obviously attracted to him and he thought she’d be an easy lay.

If only her body would get the message and stop tingling.

She had pictured seeing him again in some strange happenstance, only now that it had happened, she was forced to abandon her fantasy world for harsh reality.

That was when Jessica realized she was standing in a pool of light from a streetlamp and staring bug-eyed at the group, and that he’d notice her any second if she didn’t do something about it. She turned away, looking desperately for a place to hide before she was spotted.

“Hey! Airport girl!”

Too late.

She abandoned her attempt to retreat and turned back toward the strip club and her drunk fantasy man, trying to throw as much scorn into her expression as she could to hide her embarrassment. He had been so attractive, was still so attractive, but now she knew exactly what kind of man he was. Not the kind she’d ever waste her time on.

Still, her heart betrayed her, jumping at the fact that he recognized her so quickly, as if she was special. What a dumb thought. She had misjudged the situation, that was all, and she was annoyed at herself for her lack of insight. Being annoyed was much better than being hurt—there was no reason she should feel hurt, anyway.

“Airport girl! It’s you!”

“My name’s Jessica, not Airport Girl,” she responded, hoping he would hear the tone in her voice and back off.

She wasn’t going to give this guy an opportunity to make her suffer, despite the attraction she felt for him. At least this time she could see the semitruck of heartbreak coming a mile away and could get out of the way before she got flattened.

“Jessica! That’s your name! Great. You want to go for a drink?”

His words slurred together a bit when he spoke, but she was able to figure out what he was saying. “It seems like you’ve probably had enough,” she stated coldly as he stumbled toward her.

When he closed the gap between them, she backed up until she was pressing her shoulder blade into the light pole behind her. He leaned forward, putting his arm on the metal post and leaving only a gap of inches between her face and his. She could smell the alcohol on his breath, but she could also smell his cologne and the musky odor of his skin. The nerves in her fingers fired sensations through her. He was so near and her breath hitched as she imagined herself pressing herself against him, fusing her body with his, lips meeting. Warmth pooled low in her belly.

But her brain managed to stop her, pressing the panic button until the rest of her paid attention. This man was far too close to her and she needed to get away from him, regardless of how enticing the other option might be.

He leaned in another half inch and stared directly into her eyes, and she couldn’t help looking back. The warm blue had turned dark from desire, and his voice was pitched soft and low when he spoke, rumbling through her like shock waves. “Do you want to go to my room?”

Yes! her body screamed out. No! Run! Her brain shouted back. Lucky for her sanity, he didn’t move any closer.

After a deep, shuddering breath, she managed to sidestep out from under his powerful presence and get herself into clear space. As she did so, some other guy who was standing with the women near the front of the club called out, “Aaron, let’s go! I don’t want to stand here all night, and neither do these lovely ladies,” as he leaned over to one and kissed her on the cheek.

One of the girls joined in, beckoning to Aaron as if she were getting a German shepherd to heel. “Come on!”

It was very clear to Jessica that her stranger had plenty of company for the evening already. With as much force as she could muster, she said, “You need to leave me alone. Go back to your friends.”

And she spun away from him, marching toward the waiting limo.

As she stormed toward the vehicle and climbed in, her head was a flurry of thoughts, and she couldn’t stop them from rushing one after another. What an idiot. God, he smelled amazing. Another asshole. I should’ve known. I swear, I hate men. I wish my hands would stop tingling like that. Why do I only seem to like terrible men? He had amazing arms. Maybe I should have kissed him. No, that would’ve been the worst thing I have ever done. Dammit, I’m crying. I hope he didn’t see that.

As soon as she was safely hidden away from peering eyes with the door closed, Jessica allowed a few tears to slip down her cheeks. She wasn’t sure exactly why she was crying over a man she didn’t even know, a lost opportunity that had never been an opportunity at all. She just felt very, very alone.

Jessica wiped at her face, only to notice she had something in her hand. It was the paper Aaron had given her a few hours before, his phone number. She had taken it out while she was walking, wondering whether or not she should call him. But that was before she knew the kind of person he was.

Jessica stared at it for a moment—how could she have been so stupid as to even consider calling the number of a complete stranger?—and then crumpled it in her fist and threw it into the tiny trash can beneath the limo’s bar.

After a few minutes of quiet weeping, she wiped her eyes on the corner of her dress. She had to hike it up above her waist to do so and left makeup smudges on the hemline, but it made her face look a little more presentable when she looked at her reflection in the window. She shifted her gaze to the dark street and empty parking lot beyond the glass. The group was gone. Aaron was gone.

She curled against the cushions of the spacious interior and closed her eyes, exhausted from the day.

* * *

THE SOUND OF the door opening woke her, and the rest of the bachelorette party filed in, loud and raucous and discussing the different men they’d ogled.

A few were giggling like schoolgirls about “the other side of the club,” the part with the female strippers, and the customers over there who had bought them drinks and flirted.

“Marilyn even got a phone number from some random guy!” the black-haired one—Anna, her name was Anna—gushed.

Marilyn shrugged, as if this was an everyday occurrence. “Did you see how hot he was? Of course I got his number. I’m going to call him tomorrow and get him to hang out with us. I even like his name. Jeremiah. It rolls nicely off the tongue. I probably would have taken him back to the room tonight if he hadn’t disappeared when we went back to check on Cindy.”

Jessica turned her attention to her friend, whose head was resting on her knees. Jessica had never seen her that drunk. From the way the other girls looked at her, a mixture of amusement and pity, it was clear she’d spent a decent amount of time throwing up in the bathroom.

Jessica squeezed Cindy’s hand, but her friend was already half-asleep.

The conversations washed over Jessica as she attempted to listen and be a part of the group. She was still groggy from sangria and sleep, still feeling gloomy, and she wanted nothing more than to curl up in bed. Thankfully the limousine started to pull away from the strip club and turned toward the hotel.