Lip Lock: Country Fever, Book 2 Read Online Free PDF

everything her own fingers didn’t. Even his scent had captured her—he wore a musky cologne she’d longed to get closer to.
    She might have had a chance too, if she hadn’t acted like a soap-opera character and allowed those stupid tears into her eyes.
    At the moment when he’d said he hated to see tears, she’d felt herself spiraling into her own lonely tornado of despair. How many times had she cried this week alone? At least five. Money strain and possible hormones had been her undoing, yes. But she couldn’t allow herself to crack. Drake needed her. Who else did he have?
    Her son was still staring at her ball cap with disgust in his dark eyes. His coloring came from his father—bronze skin, dark brown hair and espresso eyes. Complete opposite of her, with her pale skin and blonde hair. That had been something Kent had been enraptured by—her paleness against his darkness.
    Shit, why was she thinking of Kent so much today?
    Probably because of the feelings stirred within her when she’d met Brant. The man oozed intrigue. It was impossible not to notice the way he stared at her or the fact that he didn’t wear a wedding band.
    What exactly had passed between them? She hadn’t known such chemistry since the night she met Kent outside the gates of a rodeo. He’d strutted by with a grin just for her, then had hopped on a bronco and ridden it to perfection. Then jumped off the horse and grabbed Hayley out of the stands.
    She’d never looked back, but she should have.
    Did that mean she should be wary of Dr. Foxfire too?
    She tugged on the bill of the blue ball cap. “I’m wearing it, Drake. I only have one male in the world who means anything to me, and you’d better believe I’m rooting him on.”

Chapter Four
    For the tenth time in two days, Brant strolled past Anecdote. The small shop lived up to its name, as there seemed to be a story in everything from the mismatched bricks on the storefront to the suit of armor greeting customers with a chalkboard sign clenched in its jointed metal fingers.
    The glass window boasted charms for everyone—antique toys piled in doll cribs, old and polished bowling pins and badminton rackets, Indian pottery, and of course, the furniture Hayley worked with.
    From what Brant could see, she was a master of restoration. Some of the pieces appeared to have the original finish, indicating she might be able to match stains and paints from centuries ago.
    Problem was—the store was closed. Closed on weekends until the tourist season hit full force, and during the only free time he had. The rest of the week, he was trapped in the office with kids and mouths full of wires. Until a few days ago, this didn’t bother him. He lived for the end results of all that work—the amazing smiles.
    But since setting eyes on Hayley Graff, he ached for something more.
    After she’d left the office, he’d attacked the schedule book, leafing through pages until he found her son’s name and an appointment date. As recommended, she’d made an appointment for Drake to be seen the following week. Five days too far away, in Brant’s opinion.
    “Howdy, Foxfire. You window-shopping for some antiques this fine Sunday morning?”
    Pivoting on the sidewalk, he faced a woman who’d once worked as his bookkeeper in the early days of the practice. Smiling, he greeted her with a hug. “So good to see you, Elaine. And yes, I was thinking of redoing my home office. I thought Anecdote might be the perfect place to find a cherry desk.”
    Or cherry-red lips…nipples…
    “Yes, this is a fine place to find furnishings. I hear their refinisher is a gem. My daughter-in-law had her grandmother’s antique kitchen table refinished by the woman. Last name’s Graff, I believe. My grandson is on the ball team with her son. A great talent.”
    “Yeah? Maybe I’ll check out a game sometime,” he hedged. If Elaine gave him a time and place, he’d be there, even if it meant looking a little bit like a desperate