The Cowboy and the Princess Read Online Free PDF

the limo had departed. They were gone.
    She drew in a shaky breath. Reached up to finger her lips still tingling from Brady’s kiss.
    He possessed a strong chin stubbled with dark beard. The rough scruff had scratched her skin during the kiss, but in a wholly attractive way. Teddy never had beard stubble, his cheeks baby-butt smooth. Then again, he never kissed like that. Full of raw, hungry passion that made her toes curl inside her cowboy boots.
    Brady’s eyes were the color of strong coffee—black and hot. His nose was straight and just a bit too big for his face, but it lent him a noble air, a king by nature, if not by birth. But while his face declared power, his manner suggested easygoing fun. He walked with a slow, loose-limbed gait as if nothing alarmed or excited him. He had a bad-boy glimmer in his eyes, and Annie suspected women stood in line to capture his attention.
    “Well,” he said, “well.”
    That’s when she knew their kiss had left him as speechless as it had her. What did you say after a kiss like that? My world has been upended, never to be righted again? Of course she couldn’t say that, but she felt it. Her stomach rose, fell, lurched. Jubilance buoyed her. It was crazy, getting swept away by the first man she met on her adventure.
    But that’s the way it had happened for Princess Ann. Joe Bradley all the way. Honestly, if she squinted, Brady did have a bit of Gregory Peck in him. The height. The lankiness. The steady, easy speech.
    Brady fished out his wallet. Laid money on the table, picked up his cowboy hat, and settled it on his head. “As pleasurable as that was, Buttercup, I’ve got to hit the road.”
    Buttercup.
    He’d called her Buttercup. Another movie princess. Princess Buttercup from The Princess Bride.
    Had he somehow guessed who she was? Her pulse somersaulted. Was her game over?
    But no, he was smiling without suspicion in his eyes. Guileless.
    That was when she realized the jukebox was playing “Build Me Up Buttercup.” He had stolen the nickname from a 1960s-era song about a fickle girlfriend, but she did not mind. Annie smiled back. No matter where he’d gotten it, Buttercup was a term of endearment. Flattered, she pressed a hand to her chest. No one besides Rosalind had ever used a term of endearment for her and Rosalind called her Noodle. Buttercup was a step up. Perhaps it was the cowboy way. Giving out nicknames that made a woman feel special. She embraced the word.
    Buttercup.
    “I will be right with you,” she said, picking up her satchel. Lady Astor moved inside the carrier. She could feel the little dog against her rib cage. “I must first visit the . . .” She paused, unaccustomed to speaking about bodily functions in public.
    “Oh, I’m not taking you with me,” he said.
    “What?” She tried not to sound alarmed, but she heard it in her voice. “You are going to leave me here alone?”
    “This is where I found you.”
    “But you were going to give me a ride to Jubilee.”
    “I never said that.”
    “What am I going to do? Where am I going to go?” She was disappointed, but now she sounded needy. She did not wish to sound needy. Needy was unattractive. So was fear. But the shine was swiftly wearing off her adventure.
    Not yet. Not so soon. She was just getting started.
    “I’ll give you some money so you can get a room for the night,” he said.
    “What have I done to displease you?” It was something she asked her father quite frequently. He was the kind of man who withheld his affection when she displeased him. Now she was sounding desperate to go along with the neediness. Unbecoming.
    Stop whining. You are a princess. You do not need to beg or cling.
    “You pleased me too much,” he said gruffly.
    She frowned. “I do not understand.”
    “That kiss . . .” He shook his head. “Well, it could get a man into a lot of trouble.”
    “What does that mean?”
    “You’re a fine-looking woman, probably real nice too. In fact, you’re