by Kennedy Fox
Natalie can’t contain herself anymore and totally loses it. His friend overhears my response and starts laughing.
“Damn. That hurts,” he teases, placing a hand on his chest. The corner of his lips tilts up into a small grin.
“Sorry, but I’m sure there’s plenty of ladies around here that’d be happy to mend those wounds.” I wrinkle my nose at him to soften the blow. He bows his head down, slouches his shoulders, and begins to slowly walk away back to his friend.
“You think I’m attractive, though, right?” the friend shouts from his table, and the blond guy punches him in the arm to silence him.
“Jesus, they’re relentless,” I mutter so only Natalie and Adam can hear.
“Oh, c’mon! Give ’em a bone,” she quips.
I roll my eyes at her in response and pop a piece of fruit in my mouth.
“You know the only way to get over a guy is to get under another one,” she teases, her voice carrying throughout the entire room.
I nearly choke on a grape and almost have to give myself the Heimlich.
“Natalie!” I whisper-shout. “Swear to God, I can’t take you anywhere.”
Adam’s smiling and trying to hide his laughter behind a forkful of food.
“This is your fault.” I point my finger at him. “You just let her roam around free without any kind of restrictions or muzzle.”
“Don’t look at me,” he defends. “You knew her before I did, which means you let her be this way long before I came around.”
I chuckle in defeat.
“What happened to having fun on this vacation?” Natalie ignores us and changes the subject. “Those were some cute Southern guys who wanted to show you how to ride their mechanical bull. I bet you can last all eight seconds even.”
Choking again, I give up and put my fork down. “I’ve gotta stop eating around you. I never know what will come out of your unfiltered mouth.”
“I bet he’s hung like a horse, too,” she states dreamily, looking past us toward their table.
“And I bet if you asked nicely, they’d even let you ride them bareback.” Adam adds fuel to the fire, getting another laugh out of Natalie.
“You two suck,” I say, pointing my fork at them.
My eyes land on a woman walking in our direction. She’s all legs, long dark hair, and tan. She’s a dark-haired Barbie, wearing one of those teeny bikini tops as a shirt with a pair of booty shorts, though the word “shorts” is questionable since I’m pretty certain her ass cheeks are hanging out. She rounds our table and heads directly for the two Southern men.
“Howdy,” the blond says, looking up at her with bright eyes.
“So last night was fun,” she tells him, her voice all high-pitched and annoying. The guy nods in agreement as his eyes scan up and down her body. “Call me if you want to do it again.” She reaches into her back pocket to grab a piece of paper and hands it over to him.
The guy takes it and unfolds it. “Sure thing, darlin’.” His accent is even more noticeable when he says that. Damn, it’s kinda hot too. Before the woman walks off, he winks at her with a smile that can only mean he’ll be calling her soon for another hookup.
The dark-haired guy is smirking and shaking his head.
“Nice.” I mutter my annoyance at the fact that he was literally just hitting on me, and five seconds later he’s drooling over this chick.
Better yet, why do I care?
“What’s that?” the blond guy asks, startling me when he raises his voice loud enough for me to hear. “You jealous already? I didn’t even sleep with that one…” He smirks, then winks as if that’s his seductive trademark.
“Wow, I’m shocked by your willpower. Better catch her and remedy that then.” I hold back rolling my eyes, which is my own trademark when I’m annoyed.
“Nah. I’m not impressed with the local cuisine. I’d rather try something…new and interesting. Any suggestions?” He arches a brow, giving me every opportunity to mock him.
Natalie’s about to burst a vein with how hard she’s trying to hold back her laughter.
Swallowing, I hold my stance and play his little game. “I’d suggest you stick to what you know, so you don’t get bitten. Or worse.”
“Damn,” the dark-haired guy blurts. “She’s my new favorite person.” He chuckles, and the blond elbow jabs him. “She shot you down and put you in your place. You'd better marry her, or I will.”
I snort. “I’m leaving now.” I stand, taking my plate, and push in my chair.
“Okay, but don’t forget we have a couple’s massage at ten!” Natalie shouts. “Unless you’d prefer Mr. Southern ‘n Dirty accompany you?”
I wave a hand up in the air and salute with my middle finger.
* * *
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Falling for the Cowboy excerpt
SYNOPSIS:
Never trust a man who wears nothing more than a cowboy hat and ripped jeans who asks if you’d like to save a horse and ride a . . . well, you get the picture. That should’ve been enough for me to walk away.
I’ve been warned on several occasions about southern men—with their sexy accents, charming manners, and the ability to easily get any woman in bed—which is something I’ll be avoiding.
Being a professional photographer has many perks—traveling around the world, calling all the shots, and working with subject matter that isn’t bad to look at—but Colton Langston with his washboard abs and baby blue eyes, could care less about my current project. He’s trouble, I know it, and he’s determined to make me work for every single photo. When I’m forced into riding lessons, I get way more than I ever bargained for, and by the time my trip is over, I’m in too deep.
Being with him was thrilling, but falling for him was unpredictable. And ignoring him will be impossible.
* * *
Presley
People aren’t lying when they say Texas heat is an experience all its own. Waking up in the gorgeous rustic B&B won’t get old anytime soon; however, this humidity is causing a hair-tastrophe. California has low humidity this time of year, so imagine my surprise when I wake up with a new ’do. Well, everything is bigger in Texas, right?
Deciding not to fight it, I throw my hair into a ponytail after my shower. I’m a natural redhead, but I also have blond highlights from being in the sun. Too bad my body doesn’t take to the sun like my locks do. If I don’t slather myself with sunscreen, I’ll burn in less than five minutes. So as a precaution, I put some on.
As soon as I’m ready, I grab my large duffle bag of photo props and books and head downstairs to the dining room. The scent of fresh coffee hits me as soon as my foot hits the bottom step, and I inhale.
“Good mornin’,” John greets me with a pleasant smile. “Did you sleep okay?”
I drop my things on a chair and roll my shoulders. “I did, thank you! The room is very charming.”
He chuckles. “Decorated by my mother, so yes, charming is a good way to describe it.”
I laugh in return. “It smells amazing in here.”
“Please, help yourself. There’s plenty.”
“Thank you.” I make my way to the table piled with pastries and grab a muffin, bagel, and some dessert looking thing. Then I pour a cup of coffee and add milk and sugar. I have a lot to do today, and caffeine is a must if I’m going to accomplish it all.
Just as I walk back to my table, someone bumps into me, and my coffee spills down my V-neck shirt on my chest.
“Oh shit.” The guy who nearly knocked me over holds my waist to keep me on my feet. He releases his hold on me to swipe a few napkins off the table.
“Oh my God!” I squeal, immediately pulling my shirt away from my body.
He hands the napkins to me, and I try to wipe the coffee from between my breasts and dab the liquid from my shirt.
“Are you okay?”
I look up and see a guy who’s too good looking to be real, but considering hot coffee was spilled on my skin, I know for certain
he is. “I have second-degree burns on my boobs now. What do you think?” Attractive or not, I’m pissed. I loved this shirt, too.
He stumbles, pulling back to study me, and I watch his eyes lower to my chest. My shirt isn’t extremely low-cut, but it still shows off my chest. I’m not on the small side either, so pulling my shirt away from my body exposes more of myself than before.
“I’m really sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. It’s this jackass’s fault.” He nods his head over his shoulder to a man wearing a cowboy hat and a smirk.
“Who is that?”
“Braxton. He’s a ranch hand and holds the title for the number one asshole around here.”
My eyes flick to where Braxton is standing near the kitchen.
“And you just stole his title.” I grimace, glancing down at my coffee-covered shirt, then back at him.
Raising his brows in surprise, he clears his throat. “I’m Colton, by the way. I am really sorry. Can I get you a cold towel or anything?”
He sounds sincere—hell, he even looks it—but I’m not in the forgiving mood, considering I haven’t had any caffeine and now I need to change.
Instead of answering his question, I reply, “How is it his fault?”
Colton clears his throat as he leans back on his heels. Looking down, I see dark faded jeans tucked inside cowboy boots. His messy brown hair peeks out from his ball cap, and his T-shirt looks like it’s painted on. It’s clear he’s rock solid underneath, but I can’t let that distract me.
However, he’d make one hell of a cover model.
“He sent me in for coffee and food and then called my name. When I looked over, I didn’t see you, and well, you know the rest.” Colton pinches his lips together and shrugs. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything? I feel awful.” He places a hand on his chest over his heart in sincerity.
“No, forget it. I add a lot of milk to my coffee, so luckily, it wasn’t too hot.”
The corner of his lips tilts up just the slightest. “I thought you said you had second-degree burns on your…” He swallows. “Chest.”
“Well, it doesn’t feel great. Why don’t you let me pour coffee on yours, and you can see for yourself?”
He chuckles. The bastard.
“Colton! Hurry up!” Braxton shouts, and two seconds later, John walks over and smacks him on the shoulder to be quiet.
“I didn’t get your name,” he says.
“I didn’t give it to you.” I walk around him, set my plate down on the table, then march back upstairs. As tempted as I am to look over my shoulder to see if he’s watching me, I don’t. He can’t use his Southern charm to erase the fact he ruined my favorite shirt.
Once I’ve changed clothes and reapplied my lipstick, I go back to my food and refill my mug, carefully mixing a perfect concoction of cream and sugar. Colton and Braxton are long gone, so I actually get to drink my coffee instead of wearing it.
After checking my email and scrolling through my Instagram, I decide to go outside for some inspiration. I open the back door, suck in the fresh Texas air, and walk along the gorgeous white wraparound porch. The whole place is a dream; something out of a Country Living magazine. There are fans on the ceiling of the porch, which I find amusing, along with rocking chairs and wooden benches on the porch. Hanging plants swing from hooks in the light breeze, and flower beds surround the railings.
I pull my camera from my bag and take snapshots of the house in the distance. Walking around, I capture different angles of the B&B with the sun high in the sky. I stop to review the images on the tiny screen of my camera and smile.
“Gorgeous,” I mutter to myself. I take pictures of the B&B sign and some with the hills behind it in the distance. The images on their website are great, but no picture will be able to do it justice, not even mine.
Once I’ve taken a variety of photos to double-check the outdoor lighting, I find a spot on the back porch to set up a mini photoshoot with a few of the southern romance books several publishers sent me. The scenery from the back of the B&B will make a perfect backdrop too. I brought a variety of props with me, and once I pull them out of my bag and lay out some fake flowers, an old pair of worn cowboy boots I bought from a secondhand shop, and some rope, I’m nearly ready to start. I always take pictures of the book with props and then some with me holding it or pretending to read it. Staging different items that stay true to the theme of the book is my favorite part, but sometimes it’s difficult to be creative and to keep things original, especially with the competition on Instagram. I’m always trying to stay fresh and relevant with my photos in the book world.
I pull down my high ponytail and brush my fingers through my hair. Once I’ve smoothed it enough to twist my hair into a low braid, I place the cowboy hat on my head. Standing in front of my camera, I take a few test shots. After I’m positioned perfectly in the frame, I mark a spot on the ground, then I click on the timer for ten seconds. I press the button, hurry to my mark, and face the opposite direction as I hold the book above my shoulder with both hands. The photo will be of the back of my hat, fully showcasing the book cover, the blue sky, and the pastures in the background. The camera clicks and snaps a set of pictures. I set it up for another shot so the book remains in focus and the surrounding area is blurry.
After a few more shots, I review the images and smile with pride.
As I glance around, I decide to do a flat lay with a few of the books and take out the rest of the props from my backpack. The worn white wood makes for an authentic backdrop, and I get excited just imagining how the pictures will turn out.
“Hmm…” I think aloud, repositioning some of the items. “Let’s try this.”
I place five books side by side with the spines facing up, and after a few failed attempts, I finally get them to stay. Carefully, I set the fake flowers, candles, and rope around them. I’ll have to shoot from above, but keeping my shadow out of the shot is relatively easy with my tripod. It’s a tedious process, but my followers love my pictures, and it makes me happy.
Editing the pictures is one of my favorite parts of the process, and sometimes I manipulate the lighting so every image I post matches my aesthetic. I also enjoy playing with different filters in my editing software to enhance or add elements that aren’t really there. In LA, everyone talks about movie magic. However, in my world, it’s photo magic.
Once I have the layout exactly how I want it, I position my tripod and camera. Typically, I take five to ten shots and then change a few things around and take more. It’s quite a process especially when I’ll only post one or two pictures out of each shoot on my feed. However, I love it so much I don’t mind how long it sometimes takes to get the perfect picture.
I take a few shots, and when I kneel to reposition one of the flowers, the door swings open and a cowboy boot steps right into my setup, nearly kicking me in the face.
“What the hell?” I shout, quickly leaning back. I lose my balance and fall backward onto my ass. My hat falls off, and when I look up, it’s none other than Colton. Again. “Seriously?”
“Fuck. What are you doin’ on the ground?” He holds his hand out for me, but I ignore it and manage to get on my feet by myself.
“You knocked me down!” I scold. “Don’t you ever watch where you’re going? You could’ve broken my camera.”
Colton looks down and sees what he’s standing on. It makes me see red.
“And you stepped on my books and props. Wow, you’re two for two. Good job.” Grabbing my tripod, I move it away from him and start picking up my things.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t see you down here.” He kneels to help me gather my items. “I was looking out at the view, and it was like you came out of nowhere.”
He holds out a candle, and I snatch it from his hand. “Well, most people look in front of them when they walk.”
“Look, I said I was sorry, okay? Don’t need to keep yelling at me.” He stands and crosses his arms over his chest. His broad, muscular chest.
He looks just like the cowboys on the covers of these books. Or hell, even better.
I don’t reply and stack my things on one of the chairs near me.
“What are you doing anyway? Why all the books?” he asks.
“I’m a photographer,” I reply in a short tone, grabbing my bags.
“Really? That’s impressive.”
“Yeah. I travel a lot and take pictures of books for publishers,” I respond as I remove my camera from the tripod.
I glance over at him and notice he’s intently watching me with a smile. “Take pictures of books? For what?”
“You wouldn’t understand. I’m going somewhere else now that you’ve slowed me down twice today.”
Colton sighs, and when I look up, he takes off his baseball cap and rakes his fingers through his hair before putting it back on. “C’mon, I said I was sorry. What else do you want me to do?” He gives me a little pouty face, but I’m not giving in that easy.
“Just stay out of my way,” I say with a forced smile.
When I go to walk around him, he gently grabs my elbow and stops me. “Gonna tell me your name at least?”
I inhale a deep breath before speaking over my shoulder. “It’s Presley. Watch where you’re going from now on. Think you can handle that, cowboy?”
* * *
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