Where Have All the Cowboys Gone? (Ebook) Book 2

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Prologue
Las Vegas

“Yee-ha!”
Lauren Redstone punched the air and smiled at her reflection in the luxurious restroom of the Mandalay Bay hotel. She’d done it. She’d actually done it. Her company, Retro Girl, was going to provide the styling and props for a series of Professional Bull Rider commercials.
It was her first big break. Her first mini-roar of independence. Lauren unpinned her brown hair and let it fall around her shoulders. She’d come to Vegas to meet the PBR executives who were there for World Finals Weekend. She’d traveled alone, but she could still celebrate, right? She picked up her purse and headed for the noisy comfort of the bar on the far side of the casino.
It was a relief to kick off her high-heeled shoes and relax. How long was it since she’d sat back and really had fun? All she’d done for the last two years was work her ass off to make her business viable. She toasted herself with her glass.
Her third glass of champagne seemed to contain more bubbles than the others. She squinted at the glass. Exactly how many bubbles were there? She’d not touched a drink for months, and the alcohol had gone straight to her head.
Holding tightly to the glass, she slipped into her shoes and got unsteadily to her feet. She was starving. But this was Las Vegas. There had to be a buffet around somewhere. She was so engrossed in the loud, swirling pattern of the carpet that she tripped over the outstretched toe of a black cowboy boot and collided with a large, warm, solid object.
Before she hit the floor, a strong arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her close. Lauren stared into the amused face of a man she’d never seen before. Thanks to her, he was wearing his beer on his shirt.
“Are you okay, ma’am?”
Lauren simply gaped at him. He wore a brown cowboy hat and a checked denim shirt. His slow, drawling speech made her feel warm and soft like caramel. She focused on his eyes, which were the same blue-gray color as his jeans.
“I’m not a ma’am.”
He grinned. “Well, lucky old me.”
A drop of beer rolled off his chin onto his chest. Lauren caught it on her fingertip just before it disappeared below the first button on his shirt. His skin was rough and warm to the touch.
“I’ve made you all wet.”
His smile widened. “There are a few things I’d like to say to that. But I reckon most of them would get my face slapped.” He settled her deeper into his lap as a waitress squeezed past the booth.
Lauren suppressed an uncharacteristic urge to giggle. Either he had a gun in his pocket, or he was reacting as fiercely to her as she was to him. She felt breathless, as if all the chatter and clanging slot machines around them had ceased to exist.
“Can I buy you another beer?”
“Only if you tell me your name.”
She was almost disappointed when he moved her off his lap. “I’m Lauren Redstone.” She held out her hand and realized she still held a champagne glass and that it was empty. He carefully removed it.
“Grayson Turner. And, just in case you’re interested, I’m not married either.” He kept hold of her hand and rubbed his callused thumb along the edge of her palm.
Lauren managed to stop staring long enough to signal a waitress. When the drinks arrived, Grayson grimaced as he pressed a wad of napkins against the front of his beer-soaked shirt.
“Let me help, it was my fault, after all.” Lauren patted a folded napkin against his stomach, noting the flex of hard muscle beneath the shirt and the subtle hitch in his breathing as he reacted to her touch.
A deep feeling of warmth settled low in Lauren’s stomach. She’d heard of love at first sight—was this lust at first sight? She wanted to rip off his shirt, pull down his jeans, and discover whether he really was as well-endowed as the bulge in his groin indicated. What was that song her best friend Ella loved so much? Something about forget the horse, ride the cowboy? Suddenly, it made perfect sense.
She gulped down more champagne. Was the illicit excitement of Vegas getting to her? She’d never reacted so strongly to a man before, and it wasn’t just alcohol coursing through her veins. It was pure, unadulterated lust. She wanted to lean forward and touch his full lower lip with the tip of her tongue just to see how he tasted.
“Lauren? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine. It’s just that—” She waved helplessly in his direction. “—I’m not in the habit of pouring beer over guys, and it seems I’ve forgotten how to flirt.”
Grayson took a swig of beer and then focused his attention on her. “You’re doing fine from where I’m sitting.”
“I’ve just been too occupied with my business to do much socializing.” She gave him a brief, airy overview of her deal with the PBR and was impressed by his intelligent remarks and obvious approval. In a few minutes of conversation, he understood more about her struggle to succeed than her father ever would.
When she’d finished, he clinked his beer bottle against her glass. “That takes guts, going into business alone. I’ve done it a couple of times and it isn’t easy.”
His gaze remained direct, his focus entirely on her. She got her second pleasant surprise when he didn’t immediately launch into a recital of his own achievements. While she smiled into his eyes, her stomach rumbled. She pressed her hand to it.
“Hungry?” Grayson asked.
“I haven’t eaten since lunch. That’s where I was headed when I bumped into you.”
Grayson put down his beer. “Would you like to have dinner with me?”
The bar seemed to get quieter, as if everyone was holding their breath. Grayson held her gaze, his eyes steady, his demeanor relaxed. Something about his quiet patience resonated deep in Lauren’s soul.