Made for You (Three Pines Ranch #2)

Chapter 1

CHAPTER ONE

The second I stepped inside, I immediately spotted her—the kind of woman who belonged in a Manhattan penthouse, not propped against a rough oak bar in a Bridger Falls honky tonk.

She wore a form-fitting black dress that hugged her curves in all the right places.

Large, bright diamonds winked in her ears.

A slim platinum watch circled her wrist—one I knew she didn’t get at the mall.

Her dark, glossy hair was pulled up into one of those tight, sexy ponytails I loved to wrap around my fist and yank.

I could feel my fingers practically twitching to grab hold and hang on for the ride.

And when she crossed her legs, the flash of red under her stilettos told me exactly the type of money I was dealing with, which made me wonder: what the hell was she doing in a place like this?

I took a few steps toward the bar, then paused, hooking my thumbs in my front pockets and debating whether to go up to her.

I rolled my shoulders back, trying to shake off a sudden case of nerves, and ran a hand through my hair before I could stop myself.

Truth was, I wasn’t sure if I should bother.

The girls I usually hooked up with were tourists wanting their authentic cowboy experience or hometown girls who knew the score. Sweet, simple, no strings attached.

This woman, though? She looked like she’d eat me alive and enjoy every damn bite.

And for some reason that I couldn’t explain, the idea of messing up that cool, polished composure? Yeah. That thought had me harder than I cared to admit.

My older brother, Colt, whistled beside me. “Damn.”

I dragged my gaze away from the woman to see him staring at her, too.

Fuck. I didn’t usually go up against Colt when it came to hookups.

Not because I couldn’t hold my own—I did just fine, thank you very much—but the guy had that whole tall, dark, and brooding thing down cold.

Women ate that shit up with a spoon. Me?

I was more of a golden retriever than a lone wolf, and I wasn’t about to get caught in a pissing match.

“Don’t worry,” Colt said with a grin, clapping me on the shoulder. “Not my type, but I can see why she snagged your attention.”

I grinned. “She’s not my usual type either.” Something about her wasn’t just beautiful. She radiated control. Like she owned the room without even trying. A woman like that would normally scare the shit out of me, but maybe that’s what had caught my eye.

Colt shook his head, his mouth quirking to the side in a wry smile. “You say that, but if I asked you to describe your ideal woman right now without stopping to think, how would you answer?”

“Easy.” I faced him fully and started counting off on my fingers. “Wide hips.” One finger. “Tiny waist.” Two. “Thick thighs.” Three. “Long hair. Plush lips.” I finished the list with a shrug, my palm open.

He lifted his right eyebrow before tipping his head in the direction of the woman. “You were saying?”

I turned back toward her, dragging my eyes down the length of her body and cataloging her features. Wide hips, check. Tiny waist, check. Those thighs? Damn. Long hair pulled tight into that ponytail I wanted to do very bad things with. And those lips pressed on her wine glass? Plush as sin.

Shit.

My mouth went dry, and heat shot through me. My jeans got uncomfortably tight, and I had to force myself not to adjust my stance.

This woman didn’t just tick my boxes.

She was the whole fucking list.

“Huh,” I huffed in surprise.

“Good luck, brother,” Colt said with a laugh, already turning toward the pool tables.

You only live once, right? I thought, shoving a hand through my hair. I wasn’t about to let a woman like that walk out of here without at least trying. The worst she could do was shoot me down.

I straightened my shirt and made my way over, my steps slow and casual as I tried to calm my beating heart and pretend I hadn’t been staring at her like a dumbass from the moment I walked in.

When I reached the bar, I angled my body toward her, leaning on one elbow.

Her scent hit me first—warm and heady, like jasmine and vanilla wrapped in smoke and silk.

The kind of perfume that lingered on your skin and in your damn memory.

Expensive and sensual as hell. Christ. I was already half-hard, and I hadn’t even spoken to her yet.

Shit, get it together, man.

“That seat taken?” I asked, my voice coming out low and rough as I gestured with my chin toward the empty stool between us.

She looked up slowly, cool green eyes sweeping over me like she was appraising livestock, starting at the tips of my boots and going all the way up to the top of my forehead and then back down.

She took a deliberate sip of her wine, never breaking eye contact, before setting the glass down with a soft clink. Her lips tilted into a smirk.

“That depends,” she said, her voice a rich purr. “Are you going to be interesting?”

I laughed nervously, my heart kicking in my chest as her response caught me off guard. I shifted my weight from one boot to the other, suddenly aware of how she was studying me. “I can try.”

When was the last time a woman had made me work for it? Lately, it felt like all the girls I’d been fucking had come easy. The sex was fun, sure, but somewhere along the line, I’d started missing the thrill of the chase. The spark that came from having to earn it.

“Is trying the best you’ve got?” she asked, turning slightly in her seat to face me more fully. Her wine glass dangled from her fingertips, the red liquid catching the low light.

I shrugged, offering her a slow grin. “Figured I’d start slow. Didn’t want to scare you off.”

She arched a brow. “I don’t scare easily.”

Christ. That voice.

I leaned in, noticing when her eyes dropped to my mouth. “Good to know.” I eased onto the stool, giving her just enough space to keep things respectful. “Gage,” I offered, resting my forearm on the bar.

The bartender—Cal, a guy I’d known since grade school—sidled over and lifted his chin in greeting. “The usual?”

“Yeah,” I said. “And whatever she’s having—on me.”

She cocked a brow at that but didn’t protest. “Cabernet,” she said to Cal, then turned her gaze back to me. “That’s bold, offering to buy a drink for a woman who might not even tell you her name.”

I shrugged. “Guess I like a little risk. Also, I figured if you were going to send me on my way, you’d have done it already.”

Her lips twitched. “Confident.”

“I prefer optimistic.”

“Mmm,” she hummed, propping an elbow on the bar. “And what exactly are you feeling optimistic about?”

“That you’ll let me keep talking to you for a little while.”

Cal set the glass in front of her and popped the cap on my beer, sliding it across the bar. I took a long pull, trying not to look like I was buzzing from the fact that she hadn’t shut me down yet.

She considered me for a beat. “And what makes you think I’m worth the effort?”

I set my bottle down and met her gaze head-on. “Because the second I walked in, I saw you and couldn’t look away.”

Not surprise, exactly, but something … softer flickered in her expression.

“You’re beautiful,” I continued, the corner of my mouth tipping up in amusement. “Though you don’t need me to tell you that. It’s not just the packaging, either. It’s the way you carry that beauty. Like you know exactly who you are, and fuck anyone who doesn’t know it, too.”

She studied me for a long second. “That almost sounded sincere.”

“Because it was.”

A beat passed between us, quiet and charged, until she dragged her gaze over the crowd.

I watched as she took in the room, pausing every couple of seconds on a small group of women.

Folks dressed like they belonged in a Montana honky tonk on a Friday night.

The type of blonde-haired, blue-eyed girls most guys I knew would give their left nut to sleep with. Eventually, she turned back to me.

“Tell me something real, Gage,” she said, voice low. “Something you don’t say to every woman who sits at this bar.”

I stared down at my hands wrapped around the beer bottle, surprised by how much I wanted to give her exactly what she was asking for.

I lifted the bottle to my lips and took a long pull, using the moment to figure out why I wanted to tell this woman things I’d never said to anyone else.

“You looked untouchable when I first saw you. Still kinda do, to be honest. But now that I’m sitting here, you don’t seem cold. You seem … careful. Weary.”

Her eyes flashed—not with offense, but with something that looked like maybe I’d seen more than I was supposed to.

She set her wine glass down slowly, her expression turning thoughtful. “You’re good at reading people, then?”

“Only when I want to understand them.”

“And you want to understand me?”

“I want to know everything. Even if it’s just for tonight.”

“Hmm,” she hummed again, and I was beginning to think that was her way of filling the silence when she didn’t know what she wanted to say, but she didn’t want to stay quiet.

“What brings you to Bridger Falls?” I asked, steering the conversation away from my inadvertent proposition. To be clear, I wanted to sleep with this woman … whose name I still didn’t know … but I hadn’t meant to come right out and tell her that. Not yet, anyway.

“I’m just visiting.”

“Short trip?”

She hesitated. “We’ll see.”

“You ever been to Montana before?” I asked.

She took another sip of her wine. “Once.”

“And?”

“I liked it.” Her eyes met mine over the rim of her glass. “What about you?” she asked. “What are you doing here tonight?”

“Same thing everyone else is doing.” I gave her a half-smile, the one my brothers always teased me about, but which usually had a woman ready to drop her panties. “Blowing off steam after a long week.”

She shifted on the stool, crossing one leg over the other. “And what do you do for a living?”