I am Not Your Melody: (steamy cowboy romance) Read Online Free Page B

strides were too fast for her to keep up, which meant her current view of him was of only his muscular back, his shoulder muscles flexing through his shirt as his arms swung with determination, the bottom of a well-shaped ass clad in the dark denim just visible beneath his untucked shirt. Her gaze dropped to a pair of scuffed black cowboy boots.
    “So,” Allie said, rushing up until she stood by his side. He unlocked his truck with a click of a button on his keychain. “Thank you for taking me to see the bar. I know you’re a very… busy man.”
    Bill scowled at her from under his black hat, as if he couldn’t tell if she were being facetious or not. She didn’t know either. Maybe he was busy? Or maybe he was just busy being alone.
    “But I need to get down to business for a sec,” she continued. “I’ve given you a rather large sum of money, Bill. We signed a contract. I own half of the bar. And since I’m the one that’s meant to get this bar open and running again, I just want to make sure we’re starting on the right foot.”
    Bill leaned in toward her, until her back was mere centimeters from the shiny black pickup truck door. He moved slowly, as if — now, unlike moments earlier — he had all the time in the world.
    His face was close to hers. Uncomfortably close? Allie opened her mouth to ask him to say something (anything!), but he stopped her by opening the door she was leaning against with his long arm.
    “Ridin’ in the truck works better when ya actually get in the vehicle,” Bill said. “Little trick I picked up.”
    Allie snorted, unable to suppress her amusement at his dry tone, even if he didn’t deserve a reaction. “I’ll remember that.”
    The truck was so tall she had to grab onto the handle in the doorway frame and pull herself up. She looked out to Bill, who was still holding the door open for her, waiting for her to get situated.
    “All settled now? All right then.” He slammed the door, with a loud noise that made her jump.
    He strode around to the other side of the truck wordlessly and climbed in with much more ease than she had. She couldn’t help but to look over at him, at the hard lines of his face, at the steel in his eyes as the engine revved.
    They rode off the property, down the long driveway that connected to a dirt road. When they got out of the ranchland, the connecting road was barely wide enough to let two cars pass. Unlike in busy Miami, no painted lines marked the streets. The mountains rose up around her, covered in evergreen trees, and the fields below teamed with horses, sheep, and cattle. They passed children playing in their yards, riding old bicycles that had probably been hand-me-downs from a few generations past, by the looks of them.
    Several properties had trailers on them, tiny mobile homes with cheery awnings outstretched before them, and dogs guarding chicken coops on the lawn. In Miami, it was rare for the people who lived in trailers to own their land, but these people apparently had lots of land. They put more money into the huge shops, barns, and livestock than they did to their own abodes.
    “The bar’s out a ways,” Bill said.
    “In town, right?”
    She should have made the trip out to Idaho to see the property before purchasing it, for sure — but if she’d done that, she would have been several hundred dollars short of the purchase price. Every penny counted.
    “You’ve asked about that already,” Bill said. “It’s on one of our busiest corners in town. That’s not saying much,” he admitted, “since our downtown is small even by small town standards. But when Uncle Freddy had the bar open, it was the most well-visited place other than church.”
    Allie laughed, then closed her mouth when he didn’t even smile. “Can you tell me what the bar was like, in your Uncle Fred…um, Freddy’s… time?”
    Bill shrugged, keeping his eyes on the road ahead.
    Maybe she’d asked the wrong question. But she wasn’t just making idle