Sons of Chance
Book 9

Feels Like Home

City slicker Rafe Locke is no cowboy. When he arrives at the Last Chance Ranch for his brother’s wedding, Rafe refuses to buy into the whole cowboy “thing.” That is, until he sees engineer Meg Seymour whoopin’ it up—a city girl gone country—and she hits his libido with a bull’s-eye!

Meg grabs life by the horns, and it’s not long before she’s enticed Rafe into riding, roping, country dancing...and gettin’ naked in bed! But as they get tangled up in the sheets— and each other!—Rafe has to keep reminding himself that this cowboy life is just a fling. Or is it?


Meg sent Rafe over to sit on the sun-warmed rock while she tied Destiny and Spilled Milk together. Theoretically her plan should work, but she hadn’t dealt with Destiny’s little quirk. She’d make sure to keep an eye on the horses so she could stop them if they began to wander off.
Once she was satisfied with her work, she left the horses and joined Rafe. “Have you had any of the water, yet?”
He smiled at her. “I was waiting to see how you planned on doing it. Maybe you’re going to drink out of your hat. That’s how it’s done in the movies.”
“I’d rather not.” She made a face. “Sounds unsanitary and might ruin my hat.” She dropped to her knees. “I’ll just scoop it up in my hands, like this.” She proceeded to demonstrate the technique she’d used last time she was here.
She’d forgotten that last time she’d dripped water down the front of her shirt. When she’d been alone it hadn’t mattered. She’d sat in the sun until it dried.
But today she was not alone. With an audience making her slightly nervous, she got some of the water into her mouth, but most of it ran down her chin and soaked her shirt. She didn’t have to look to know that it was plastered to her body and her nipples stood out in sharp relief. She could feel them tightening from the cold.
“Interesting.” His voice vibrated with laughter.
“I didn’t mean to do that.” Winking and flirting was one thing. Setting herself up as a wet T-shirt model was a little over-the-top, even for her. She pulled her shirt away from her body, but the minute she let it go, it clung to her breasts like plastic wrap.
“I’m not complaining.”
She cast him a sideways glance, and sure enough, he was frankly admiring her breasts. “A gentleman wouldn’t look.”
He shoved his hat back with his thumb in a very cowboy-like gesture. “I never claimed to be a gentleman. Besides, weren’t you the one who wanted a chance to lead me astray?”


Copyright 2001-2020 Vicki Lewis Thompson