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Kiss Me Like You Mean It, Cowboy (Cavanagh Cowboys Romance 4)

By Valerie Comer

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Chapter 1

“That’s enough. I’m done.”

Yikes. Blake Cavanagh winced back a step as Felicity McKnight pressed forward. Her eyes blazed, and her normally pale cheeks had mottled in anger. Her finger jabbed repeatedly into his chest like a woodpecker determined to get to the heart of a big old cedar in two minutes flat.

“Okay, okay. I’m sorry.” He held up both hands.

“You don’t get it, do you?” She grabbed a handful of his snap-front shirt.

Not really, but he knew better than to say the words. “You’re done. That’s clear enough. I thought we had an arrangement...” Oops. Wrong answer.

Her lips drew into a tight line that was not at all kissable. “Casual dating. No commitment. That was fine. I didn’t want to marry you, anyway.”

That made two of them. Not only did Blake not wish to marry Felicity, he wasn’t planning on marrying anyone, ever. His brothers were splatting hard like calves who’d been lassoed at full gallop in a branding pen, turning into soft, besotted fools. Nathaniel had always been a bit on the sensitive side, but Blake had thought Adam and Travis were tougher than they’d turned out to be. At least Travis had become easier to get along with since he and Dakota had gotten back together and tied the knot, so it wasn’t all bad.

But Blake was plenty easygoing already. He didn’t need a woman to soften him up. Any mushier, and he’d be a bowl of quivering jelly, not a brawny cowboy.

“Are you even listening to me?” Felicity clenched his fisted shirt a little tighter.

“Uh, yeah. Sure.”

Disgust curled her lip. “I can’t think what I ever saw in you.”

“Hey, now. I’m a hot cowboy. Pretty sure those were your words.” He bobbed his eyebrows.

Felicity shook her head and snorted a short laugh. “I take them back. Get out of my life, and don’t come anywhere near my friends, either. I’ll warn them.”

Blake studied her for a few seconds. “Why, Felicity, darling, I think you started to care for me. Otherwise, our agreement should have been fine.”

Her eyebrows tipped up. “In your dreams, cowboy.” She pivoted on her three-inch heels and strode away.

Blake watched her hips sway in her short skirt as she marched down the sidewalk. He rubbed the back of his neck. All that fuss because she’d learned he’d asked Marnie Wilson to go to a Kenny Chesney concert in Missoula with him on the weekend. Felicity didn’t even like country music, so what was the big deal? He’d always insisted on a non-exclusive relationship. It was on her if that started bugging her six months later.

Just meant she found him irresistible. A little grin quirked at the corners of his mouth. That was him, Blake the heartbreaker. Get serious? Not a chance.

He only had to look at his dad to realize what intentional Cavanagh relationships looked like. His parents had yelled and cussed and thrown things at each other for years, only ending when Mom stalked out just before Blake’s tenth birthday.

Good riddance. Dad may still have had a volatile temper and been hard to please, but the huge house had been a lot quieter. Not that Blake and his brothers had stayed inside much. No way. They were wild creatures jumping on any horse in the corral and galloping off bareback. Except Dad’s mount. That would have gotten them a tanning for sure.

And then Dad met Kathryn Anderson, married the poor widow, adopted her three sons, and been a mostly nice guy for a couple of years, during which time Kathryn homeschooled the entire tribe of boys and gave birth to twin girls.

The honeymoon hadn’t lasted long. Dad started bellowing again, and Kathryn withdrew. She was hardier than Mom had ever been, retreating to a suite of rooms in the walk-out basement and sticking it out until just last week.

The revelation Dad had another daughter barely older than the twins had been the straw that broke the figurative camel’s back. Mom moved to town with the girls and got a job teaching English at Creekside Academy.

Dad was beside himself, pacing the quiet house at all hours, riding out on Diesel in the middle of the night, snarling at any of the boys who came within ten feet of him.

A fool for love? Or maybe just a fool.

Yeah, Blake wasn’t gonna be that guy. He didn’t have Dad’s temper — thank the good Lord for that — but he’d seen it in his brother Travis. Whatever Dad and Travis did, Blake was on the opposite trail. Not him. No way.

He adjusted his cowboy hat on his head and looked past the line of trees marking the edge of the beach along Jewel Lake. He took a deep breath. Okay. Felicity was gone. There were other women. Arlene was still ready for a good time, and then there was Marnie.

Marnie! He was supposed to meet her at the Copper Carafe ten minutes ago, but he’d run into Felicity after he’d parked the truck beside the town square. Dagnabbit, women hated when he was late.

Blake glanced both ways before angling across the street toward the coffee shop then paused for a second to make sure his plaid shirt was neatly tucked in, exposing his gleaming belt buckle. Women loved the thing. Mark of a macho cowboy or something like that.

He pulled open the door and scanned the busy place. Many of the tables were surrounded by groups, and at least half a dozen people stood in line.

Ah. There she was, standing with her back to Blake as she looked down. On her phone, maybe? He hadn’t seen that outfit on her before — she was usually in jeans or shorts — but it was cute. Knee-length gray skirt, low heels, a soft pink top with fluttery sleeves. Her dark hair was held in a bun with pencils, and he grinned at the schoolmarm look.

She hadn’t seen him yet. This could be fun. Blake sidled closer to the line, intent on his prey, but she didn’t look up. He stopped right behind her, breathing in the fragrance of the coffee shop and… lilacs? He held back a chuckle. Marnie was full of surprises today.

In one swift move, he pulled the pencils holding her hair together. His arms came around her from behind as he nuzzled into the crook of her neck.

Oof!

Blake gasped for breath as her elbow jammed hard into his solar plexus. Before he could blink, she dropped into a crouch, grabbed behind his knees, hooked her foot behind his, and pushed.

Flat on his back, he blinked up at the woman. She was very much not Marnie.

*

Dafne Santoro stared at the man sprawled on the ceramic tile floor. Shock covered his face as he gawked back.

The guy was kind of cute, not that it mattered. He wore a plaid shirt and well-worn jeans held in place by a leather belt and a buckle that had to be all for show. Cowboy boots on his feet confirmed she wasn’t in Spokane anymore.

“You’re not Marnie!” His voice rang with accusation.

She blinked. “Pardon me?”

“I thought you were someone else.” He struggled to sit up then reached for the brown cowboy hat laying a few feet away. He rubbed the back of his skull, still glaring at her, then clapped on the hat as he surged to his feet. “That hurt.”

Dafne backed up a step to keep some distance. “I’m sorry?” But she wasn’t. Not really. Who expected to be accosted in line at a coffee shop? Not her, for one.

People around them were staring. A few were snickering. She probably looked a disaster with her hair tumbled around her shoulders. She straightened her skirt and held out her hand. “I’ll take my pencils back now, please.”

The man’s eyes glimmered. “I’m not so sure about that.”

A woman with long dark hair marched up to the guy and, before he could blink, shoved him backward. “You’re a womanizing jerk, Blake the snake. I’m done.” And she sashayed toward the door in her snug tank top and short shorts.

“Marnie!” he called. “Wait a minute. I can explain.”

Snickers surrounded them, silenced only when the cowboy — Blake? — pivoted to glare at the coffee crowd.

“Miss? I’m ready to take your order.”

If there was anything Dafne hated, it was being the center of attention. It was bad enough when it was for an award, like graduating at the top of her class at Gonzaga U. It was ten times worse when she’d done something public and stupid in a town she hoped to make her home. She tucked her long hair behind her ears.

“I, uh… just a coffee, please. Black.” She’d meant to get a macchiato or something like her friends back home always ordered. As a single mom all through college, every penny she could spare had gone to keeping Gavin fed and clothed. Yes, her parents had helped a lot, but her six-year-old wasn’t the result of their mistakes. He was her responsibility, not theirs.

“We’ll share one of those doughnuts, too.” Blake’s breath warmed her cheek, he was that close. Had he not learned anything in the past few minutes?
Dafne held out her debit card, but his hand extended past hers holding his. “I’ve got it.”

“No, thank you.”

“I insist.”

She let out a frustrated breath as the server took the cowboy’s card instead of hers, the girl’s eyelashes batting at the man. Dafne wouldn’t make more of a scene, but seriously! Who did he think he was? He’d already made a spectacle out of her, and she’d thank him to walk away and let the townsfolk think about something else for a while.

Dafne gritted her teeth. “Thank you.” Dad would be disappointed if he heard she’d been this rude. Let alone that she’d dropped a guy to the floor. Of course, it was Dad who’d enrolled her in jiu jitsu long before she became pregnant with Gavin. She should have used it on Connor Hamelin instead of letting him into her life.

Dafne really, really hated men who thought they were God’s gift to women.

And she needed to stop woolgathering, because Blake now had two coffees and a plated doughnut on a tray. “Where would you like to sit?”

She reached for a mug. “Anywhere without you.”

He chuckled as he twisted slightly to keep the tray out of reach. “Not happening. How about over there?” His chin poked toward a table just being vacated by a pair of middle-aged women.

Three choices. Shut up and sit down. Walk out without her coffee… or throw it at him. But people still eyed them curiously, and she didn’t need to be the talk of the town.

The new social sciences teacher made such a scene in the Copper Carafe! You should have seen it. You could excuse her dropping the cowboy on his rear for sneaking up on her, but then she threw her coffee cup at him! Whisper, whisper.

Besides, she needed that caffeine. She’d dropped Gavin off at the academy-run daycare and had less than an hour before staff orientation with Ms. Cantrell.

Dafne raised her chin. She wasn’t going to let this cowboy intimidate her or walk all over her. But she had dumped him. She could kind of understand his desire to save a little face after his meeting with the concrete floor. After all, this was probably his hometown, so he was likely known by many of the onlookers. And Marnie, who’d apparently been his girlfriend, had broken up with him rather publicly. “Fine.”

Blake flashed her a grin. “You won’t regret it.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Know what I hate?”

He set the tray on the table. “What?”

“Men who think they know what’s best for a woman they just met. Because, guess what? You don’t. For all you know, I’m happily married with five kids.” She tucked her hands behind her back lest he see her ringless fingers.

“Five kids?” His eyebrows shot up. “You’re all of twenty-one.”

“Twenty-three. And it could be true. A couple of sets of twins, and bam.”

Blake chuckled and held out a chair for her, gesturing for her to take a seat.

She sat primly on the edge. “May I have my pencils back now, please?”

He pulled them from his hip pocket and laid them on the table between them. “Sure. And I’m betting no to five kids.”

Dafne tucked the pencils in her crossbody bag then reached for the white ceramic bowl stuffed with packets of sweetener. She dumped the contents of three into her mug.

“I could have told you you needed a bit more sweetening,” he drawled.

“Do you insult every woman you meet?” She glanced at him as she stirred the coffee.

“Do you flatten every guy you meet?”

She narrowed her gaze. “There’s a first for everything.”

“Ditto.”

Somehow, she didn’t believe him. The provocations came too easily from his lips for this to be an unusual occurrence.

He nudged the doughnut plate closer to her side of the table. “This is yours.”

“I didn’t order it.” But it smelled yeasty and sugary and heavenly, and she’d only had a superfood smoothie before driving Gavin to daycare. Of course, she’d made sure he had an egg and toast before his big day. She simply hadn’t been able to stomach the thought for herself.

“I ordered it for you. Unless you’re celiac, you should just say ‘thank you’ and then eat it.”

It did smell tempting. Her resistance faded. “Thank you.” The first bite melted in her mouth. Not as good as the cinnamon buns at the bistro back home, but pretty good.

“How about going out with me Saturday night? I have two tickets to see Kenny Chesney in Missoula.”

Dafne choked and barely managed to get the suddenly dry morsel down before she surged to her feet. “No.”

And she walked out, leaving that precious coffee behind. And her dignity.

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