He took off his baseball cap, tucked it in his back pocket, and ran his hands through his thick hair. I’d never met anyone as good looking as Jax. Everything from his build, his deep brown hair, and the topaz color of his eyes looked like he should be on the cover of a romance novel or possibly in the “Thunder Down Under” hot guy show in Las Vegas that Zoey dragged me to a few years ago.
I bit my lip to conceal my smile, my thoughts of a shirtless Jax, wearing leather chaps, giving me a lap dance. Such a good nasty dancer.
His eyes narrowed. “Are those tap dancing shoes?”
I nodded. What else could I do?
“May I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
“What the fuck?”
A giggle escaped me. “Well, you see?—"
“Don’t tell me those are the rage in Paris. I call bullshit on that.”
“Okay, my wise Uber-driving gigolo, tell me whyyouthink I’m wearing tap shoes.” I had no flippin’ clue what to say, so maybe I could build on whatever answer he came up with.
He looked me up and down, which sent a tingle down my spine as I examined his sexy jaw.
“I’m thinking there was a horrific car-jacking on the way to the airport, but instead of taking the car, the thief took your luggage and, at gunpoint, forced you to take these pathetic outfits and tap shoes.” He nodded. “And the greenest, ugliest panties in the history of the world.”
Gasp. “What are you talking about? There were no undies.”
“Give it up. I saw them clear as day before you whipped them out the window. I don’t even want to know why they were in your clown pants pocket, by the way.”
Okay, building on his story. I really didn’t want the sexiest man in Montana, or possibly the whole United States, to think I had shitty taste.
“You’re on the right track. I, uh, I grabbed the wrong suitcase at the airport and didn’t realize until I was already on the plane, so I’ve been, uh, making the best of a cruddy situation because that’s how I roll. I’m super chill, so there you go.” Bingo. Shazam. End of story.
“But the yellow glow-in-the-dark overalls you were wearing, you chose them?”
“Uh, those truly are on the runways in Europe. Yes, I’m just so freaking ahead of the fashion curve nobody has seen the look yet.”
“Got it. I’m sure Daisy has some stuff you can wear, so you don’t have to look like a train wreckeveryday.” He winked, making my insides flip. “Unless you truly are a pizza slut?”
I crossed my arms over my chest as if I were offended, but now all I could envision was a shirtless Jax eating pizza while giving me another lap dance. I literally shook my head to get the visions to disappear as his words rolled around my mind. The psychic did say I had to wear my crap apartment clothing until I got to Montana. Was that correct? I was 86.88 percent certain, so I planned to hit up Daisy’s closet later.
We stood in silence for a moment. “You like horses?”
“I haven’t been around them much, but they’re beautiful.”
He gave a sharp whistle, and one of the horses galloped over to us. He reached out and rubbed the horse’s head when the horse suddenly butted Jax, and he let out the most amazing laugh.
“This is Lola. She loves me if you can’t tell.”
I could tell, and it was adorable. “Did you raise her?”
“Nope. She came here wild. She was one tough cookie, but I broke her. She bucked me off more times than I could count, but now she and I are besties, aren’t we, girl?”
“So, you train horses here?” I felt embarrassed. I had no flipping clue what my dad or this ranch even did. Did they raise cows, goats, horses, or milk cows? No idea.
“Kind of. We get horses and train them to be the best cattle horses in the nation.”
“Like a competition?” I thought of the Miss America Pageant for horses. Maybe Jax was like that guy in the movie “Miss Congeniality.” The one that got her waxed, pretty, and good at the pageant things.
“Not really.” He patted Lola on the back. “Come on, Austin’s working on one now.”
