Down to You (27 page)

Passion as hot as midnight in the South and
love as wild as the horses they tame.

Camille “Cami” Hines is the darling daughter
of the South’s champion thoroughbred breeder, Jack Hines. She has a
pedigree that rivals some of her father’s best horses. Other than
feeling a little suffocated at times, Cami thought she was pretty
happy with her boyfriend, her life and her future.

But that was before she met Patrick
Henley.

“Trick” blurs the lines between what Cami
wants and what is expected of her. He’s considered the “help,”
which is forbidden fruit as far as her father is concerned, not to
mention that Trick would be fired if he ever laid a hand on her.
And Trick needs his job. Desperately. His family depends on
him.

The heart wants what the heart wants,
though, and Trick and Cami are drawn to each other despite the
obstacles. At least the ones they know of.

When Trick stumbles upon a note from his
father, it triggers a series of revelations that could ruin what he
and Cami have worked so hard to overcome. It turns out there’s more
to Trick’s presence at the ranch than either of them knew, secrets
that could tear them apart.

CHAPTER ONE- Cami

Sipping my beer, I look around at the
familiar scene. If the honky tonk music blaring from the speakers
in the ceiling hadn’t been enough to scream COUNTRY BAR, the sea of
cowboy hats would have been. I smile as I adjust the black one that
sits atop my own head. I love being incognito. Even if, by chance,
someone I know stumbles into the smoke-filled dive, they’d never
believe it was me looking out from beneath the brim.

Something hits the back of my
barstool—hard—just as I put the glass to my lips. Ice cold beer
pours down my chin and straight into my cleavage. I suck in a
breath.

“’Scuse me,” a deep voice rumbles in my ear.
Two hands grip my upper arms and pull me back, keeping me from
tipping right out of my seat. I’m looking down at my soggy jeans
and t-shirt when I feel the hands disappear. Half a second later, a
face appears in my line of sight. “I’m so sorry. Are you okay?”

My fingers stop plucking wet cotton away from
my chest and I stare. Quite rudely, I might add. I’m speechless.
Literally. And that, like,
never
happens to me.

The most amazing eyes I’ve ever seen are
staring back at me. They are pale greenish-gray, rimmed in sooty
lashes and filled with concern.

A sharp jab to my shin makes me let out the
breath I hadn’t been aware of holding. I see my best friend Jenna’s
head poke out from behind the mystery face. I know she kicked me
and I know she’s trying to get my attention, but I can’t look away
from these eyes long enough to glare at her.

God, his eyes! I’ve never seen eyes that make
me want to gasp and giggle and do a strip tease all at once. But
these do.

They flicker down, letting me go just long
enough to collect my wits. I find very few of them. They are well
and truly scattered. When he looks back up at me, his eyes are
wrinkled at the corners. He’s smiling. And holy hell, what a smile
it is!

“Does it make me a bad person for liking your
shirt better this way?”

I glance down at myself. My dark pink bra is
plainly visible through the now-wet paper thin material of my pale
pink shirt. So are my very erect nipples. I blush, mortified.

Why, oh why did I wear a light pink t-shirt
with a dark pink bra?

Because you can’t see your bra through it
when it’s dry, dumb ass
.

A thumb brushes my right cheek. “God, that’s
sexy,” he whispers. Against my will, my eyes fly to his face. His
smile has died to a lopsided grin that is devastation in its purest
form. “I’ve never made a girl blush before.”

I laugh nervously, struggling to find my
voice, to find my dignity. “Somehow I doubt that,” I say
softly.

“Wow! The hair of a devil, the face of an
angel and the voice of a phone sex operator. You really are the
perfect woman.”

To my utter humiliation, my cheeks burn even
hotter. Curse my fair skin!

Reaching into his pocket, Hot Stranger pulls
out a couple bills and slides them across the bar. “Another of
whatever…” He trails off, looking at me in question, waiting for me
to fill in the blank.

“Cami,” I say, trying to hold back my
grin.

Smooth way of getting my name. Chalk one up
for Hot Stranger.

“Another of whatever
Cami
is having.”
He turns back to me, a wicked gleam in his smoky eyes. “Sorry about
your drink. Not so much about your shirt, though,” he admits
candidly.

Willing myself not to blush again, I tilt my
head. “So, do clumsy strangers have names in this place? Or are you
just called ‘bull in china shop’?”

The lopsided grin comes back. “Patrick, but
my friends call me Trick.”

“Trick? As in trick or treat? That kind of
trick?”

He laughs and my stomach flutters. It
actually flutters. “Yep. That kind of trick.” He sobers and leans
in close to me. “Cami, can I ask a favor?”

I’m breathless again. He’s so close I can
count every hair in the stubble that dusts his tan cheeks. For just
a second, his clean manly scent overrides the cigarette smoke and
stale beer smell of the bar.

I lose my voice—again—so I nod.

“Pick ‘treat.’ Please, for the love of God,
pick ‘treat’.”

Like an idiot, I say nothing. I do nothing. I
simply stare. Like a…a…well, like an idiot.

He makes a disappointed noise with his lips
then starts shaking his head. “Too bad. Woulda made my night.”

He straightens, takes a step back and smiles
at me again. “Nice to meet you, Cami,” he says, and then he turns
and melts into the crowd.

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