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

by surprise — especially since back at his office, he seemed to be doing everything he could to avoid even looking at her.
    His touch warmed her skin through her T-shirt. It was bold of him, but either Bill wasn’t aware of that, or didn’t care. He led Allie — his hand still on her — to the front entrance that came in off the sidewalk. Next-door to the bar was a bank. That was good, since the bank wouldn’t be open during their busiest times at the bar. Less noise complaints.
    The front window had been boarded over.
    “Is there glass behind that board?” she asked.
    Bill cocked his head to the side. “Broken glass. They’re all broken. The boards are what’s new.” He pointed to some charred wood piled up by the side of the building. “That’s from a little fire that broke out inside last month. I think some of the guys got too drunk to keep their flames down.”
    Allie turned to him in exasperation. “This was your Uncle Freddy’s bar. Don’t you care? This was his livelihood and you haven’t even maintained it.”
    Bill looked down at her from his height advantage, his steel gray eyes staring into hers with an intensity that burned her like fire.
    He took his hand off of the small of her back, and she missed it immediately.
    “I don’t know how they work things in Miami,” he said, saying the name of the city as if it were an insult, “but I don’t know who the hell you think you’re talkin’ to. Don’t you scold me like I’m some naughty kid you wanna spank.”
    This was all wrong. It wasn’t supposed to go like this. Her first day with her new business partner — how had she already screwed up so royally?
    She shouldn’t say anything more. But as Bill had already witnessed, staying quiet had never been her strong suit. No reason to change now.
    “You owned this bar long before I bought in,” she said, anger creeping into her voice. “You had an obligation to take care of it. Even if you couldn’t run the business, how hard is it to keep it locked up and safe?”
    “I told ya the place needed fixin’ up. You’re actin’ like I lied to get you to buy in.” He took his cowboy hat off and ran his large hand through his black hair in frustration.
    “Repairs are coming out of your wallet,” she snapped. “You led me to think you’d closed up the bar right as your uncle left it, and waited till now to reopen, with my help.”
    “Yup,” he said. “That’s what happened.”
    “I knew it needed fresh paint, new flooring maybe, cosmetic fixes. You didn’t tell me you and your buddies were sneaking back in and making fires on the floor. That kids were breaking windows for fun.” As if of their own accord, her gestures got bigger, accusatory. “Or was that you breaking those windows?”
    Bill grabbed her hand from out of his face, and held her wrist captive. “You’re actin’ like you’re gonna poke my eyes out, and I can’t have that.”
    No one had ever restrained her before, or stopped her from getting in their space. Not that she usually did that. This man, this cowboy…he brought out the fire in her. None of it made sense. In that moment, she didn’t know if she hated him, or respected him for not taking her crap.
    Allie instinctually knew that if she’d calm down, get out of his face and back off, he wouldn’t still be holding her wrist. Instead, she clawed at his hand with her free one, until he took hold of her other wrist as well.
    “Get off me!” she yelled. She looked around the empty street. Could people see? There was no one, just her and Bill Edwards.
    “Stop actin’ like you’re ready to fight me,” he said, stepping in close, his breath hot on her cheek. Her hands were trapped between his broad, muscular chest, and her own body. “Stop screamin’ at me.” He looked her straight in the eyes. “You should be a redhead with all that fire in you. On the phone, in emails, you seemed calm, organized, like you had your shit together.”
    “I do,” she