Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 59154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 59154 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 296(@200wpm)___ 237(@250wpm)___ 197(@300wpm)
4
EMMA
Um, wow. There was a very hot cowboy at the door. Snap shirt and all. Was he flirting with me?
I wouldn’t know, since I hadn’t been on a date in–I didn’t know–two years? Not since I dated Josh, another guy in the production company, for a few weeks. Basically, we’d hooked up while working late one night and had ended things two weeks later, so I didn’t know if it was even considered dating. It had been lame with a capital L. Like no orgasms lame. I’d had to get myself off in the few minutes I had before he came… and left.
No, this guy was stunning. Like a model stepped off the pages of Rugged Magazine. Was there such a magazine? If not, there should have been. Because I could look at cowboys like this all. Day. Long.
I did know there were cowboy calendars. He’d be Mr. January. And February. Every month of the year.
Were these the kinds of guys who frequented Chapman’s ranch? I hadn’t been here long enough to scope the place out. It was huge, and I knew less than nothing about cows other than I liked my beef medium rare. As for cowboys, I liked them just like this guy. If the others on the ranch looked like him, I was going to talk Lyssa into twin-swapping with me like we did when we were younger. I’d excelled at math, and we had swapped for all of her tests for Pre-Cal. I’d stay here and work her job, which didn’t seem to be all that hard or demanding, especially since she wasn’t even here. She could go gallivanting off on whatever her next adventure would be, and I’d sit back and ogle the man candy. According to Lyssa, Chapman rarely even came to this ranch. No one even needed to know I was the wrong twin.
He leaned in the doorway like he’d wanted to get closer to me, and I was into it.
So into it.
He had thick, bulging muscles that couldn’t be contained by his shirt. A five o’clock shadow covered his jaw and upper lip, adding to the “out on the range” look that I never saw in L.A., and bushy eyebrows framed brown eyes that looked haunted. Like this guy had seen things that aged him beyond his years.
“Did you just say, um wow?” His lips quirked in a sexy grin.
Oh shit! Had I said that out loud? What a dork, what a dork, what a dork!
“I did? Oh. I mean…”
I wracked my brain for something interesting to say. Something flirty. Something cute?
What would Lyssa do?
Before I could figure it out, an ear-splitting alarm erupted throughout the mansion. I jumped about a foot in the air–enough that Hot Cowboy thought he needed to reach out and catch my elbow for support.
I wasn’t sorry about that. Not sorry at all.
“Is something burning?” His voice was a deep velvet rumble. He lifted his nose to scent the air.
“My cookies!” I gasped, finally realizing what had happened. I’d been playing Ms. Domestic in the gorgeous ranch kitchen and decided to bake this afternoon. I’d been about to pull them out of the oven when Hot Cowboy–HC for short–rang the doorbell.
I spun around, leaving HC in the open doorway.
Great. If I burned the place down, I’d lose my chance at keeping my sister’s job and meeting hot cowboys. Then what?
I dashed into the kitchen, only to realize that HC was right on my heels.
Well, that was sweet. He was the protector type. There weren’t many of those in L.A.
I threw open the oven door and grabbed the hot mitts. Smoke billowed out into my face, and I had to turn away and cough, eyes watering.
“I got it,” he shouted over the alarm. Before I could recover, HC took one of the hot mitts from my hand and pulled the cookies out. “I’ll take this outside.” He disappeared, jogging with the cookie sheet toward the French doors that led to a huge stone terrace and in-ground pool at the back of the house.
Swoon.
It wasn’t like he’d carried me from a burning building, but damn–I might be crazy enough to set fire to this whole place just to have that happen.
I ran for the second set of French doors–because one wasn’t enough–to throw them wide and let more air in.
The smoke alarm continued to screech. I found the switch for the vent over the stove and turned the fan on. HC reappeared and turned off the oven and shut the door.
“How do you turn off the alarm?” he shouted, looking up at the ceiling. “This kind of place has a hardwired system. You probably only have a few minutes before emergency services are notified.”
Oh shit. “Um, right! Uh…”
I knew where the panel for the security system was. Would it be in the same place? I ran for it near the front door, and HC followed. I punched in the code Lyssa had given me and waited for the alarm to turn off.