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“There were only two things he was really good at. Riding bulls and satisfying women. But Joss wasn’t just another woman to him. Deep in his bones he knew she was special. She was the eight-second ride. The gold buckle.”

Quote by Amy Andrews

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Troy

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Amy Andrews

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“How old are you?” “Twenty-seven.” Twenty-seven. Older than she’d thought. But still… “I’m thirty-four.” He lifted a shoulder. “So?” So? Joss sighed. “That’s seven years older than you.” He grinned. “Seven years more experienced.” Joss suppressed the urge to laugh hysterically. If he thought he’d be getting some kind of well-honed tantric experience from her, he’d be sorely let down. She was too damn tired to be some kind of Mrs. Robinson. Like he even needed one. “Look, you’re very sweet—” His dramatic wince interrupted her. “Is there where you pat me on the head and tell me to run along now?” It was Joss’s turn to laugh. “Something like that.” “Are you sure I can’t interest you?” He set his broad grin to stun. “I’m really very good with my hands.” Joss didn’t doubt it. “To which my flat tire can attest. But trust me, there are plenty of pretty girls your age in town who would happily volunteer for a demonstration.” And Joss was blindingly envious of every one of them. He slid his hands into his back pockets and set his jaw. “What if I don’t want a girl? What if I want a woman?”

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“You should come and watch me.” She frowned. “Watch you?” A small smiled nudged his lips. She didn’t need to be a mind reader to know where his mind had just gone. “Ride bulls. On the weekend.” There were probably about a hundred things she’d put her hand up to watch this guy do, a lot of them just as dirty as the things he’d been thinking. Watching him get tossed around for entertainment on the back of a large angry animal wasn’t one of them.”

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“I just wish I knew what he was thinking, you know?” Her eyebrows knotted as she searched his face for who knew what. “You’re a guy. Can you shed any light on what the hell goes through a teenage boy’s head?” Troy was pretty sure she did not want to know the kind of things that occupied the brain of a fifteen-year-old male. There was some stuff mothers just shouldn’t know. “Well that would be breaking the guy code,” he teased. “Suffice to say that most of it involves chicks and heavy levels of nudity.” “Oh God…” She groaned. “Don’t. I’m not ready for that. I don’t even want to think about it.” She chewed on her bottom lip and Troy lost his place in the conversation. He wanted to step right up into her space, slide his hand onto her waist and soothe that bottom lip with his tongue. His dick got hard at the thought but he was pretty sure she’d knee him in the balls if he even attempted such a move. Unfortunately, not even the prospect of that killed his erection.”

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“Now, how are you getting back to the motel?” He looked like he was going to argue some more, shifting slowly in the gurney to a more upright position but something pulled him up short and he winced. “I’ll catch a cab.” “And is there someone who can keep an eye on you?” He’d been pretty wiped out from the morphine. She’d be more comfortable discharging him if she was doing it to someone’s care. “Are you kidding? The rodeo’s over. The motel will be full of yahooing bull riders.” “I mean someone who’ll actually look in on you, not be drunk off their ass while you throw up in your sleep and choke on your own vomit.” He cocked an eyebrow at her. “I bet you’re fun at parties.” Parties? Ha! She should be so lucky. “I’m a real treat.”

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“She was about to take a step back when his hand slid onto her leg. Slow and lazy. “You don’t wear your scrubs home,” he murmured, his fingers idly stroking just behind her knee, the denim of her jeans no barrier to the sensations sweeping up her leg. Joss willed herself to move but not one damn synapse obeyed. It was as if his fingers had injected them with a paralyzing agent. “No.” Her voice was hushed yet high. Breathy. “It’s against hospital policy.” “Pity.” He smiled at her. “You look hot in them.” If it was possible to orgasm through compliments alone, she’d just moved into the red zone. He was dangerously good for her ego. He was bleary-eyed, rubbing his right hand over his hair, his biceps and abs shifting nicely. A flush of heat surged from the tips of her toes to the top of her head. Sweet baby cheeses. Maybe she was perimenopausal? Thirty-four was young but it wasn’t unheard of…”

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“I’ve got some good physical therapy for you. Any good at fencing?” Joss almost choked on her mouthful of coffee. She sat up straight in her chair and shook her head. “No, Gus.” Troy ignored her. “I can fence in my sleep.” “Gus.” She narrowed her eyes at her father-in-law who could be stubborn as a mule. “He dislocated his elbow. He shouldn’t be doing any heavy lifting with his arm. Not to mention it’s going to be in a splint for a couple of weeks.” “He’s still got his right arm, don’t he?” “Yeah,” Troy drawled, amusement flattening his vowels even more than usual. “I’ve still got my right arm.” She glared at Gus. “You want to take on a one-armed fencer?” “Damien’s got his summer job starting today so I’m losing my sidekick and Cody’s out with his broken leg for another couple of weeks. It’d be handy to have even one extra hand on.” “I bet I can fence better one-armed than most men can with two.” There was no bravado to the claim. His expression was sincere and Joss believed him. She didn’t doubt this man could do a crap ton of things better than most men.”

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“She didn’t notice the partially fogged vanity mirror as she walked toward the bathroom, either—two thick fluffy towels in hand. Not until she was inside anyway and a pair of jeans and fringed leather chaps tossed carelessly over the edge of the vanity came into view. She almost dropped the towels as she spun around. “Hey.” The Dixie Chicks crooning, there’s your trouble, straight into her ear was a particularly ironic twist.”

Amy AndrewsTroyOlder Woman Younger ManAussie HeroTule Publishing
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