Wolves Gone Wild(8)
Yet amazing didn’t even begin to describe these guys.
An artist friend of hers had once asked her to describe the face of her perfect man. She’d laughed and done her best to say exactly what she wanted. The drawing had come out perfectly, showing a man with chiseled-enough-to-cut-glass jaws covered with a day’s growth, along with high cheekbones and lips that made her ache to have them pressed against her skin. She’d tacked the picture up on her wall and stared at it every night before falling to sleep like some lovesick teen fascinated with the poster of her favorite pop idol. But she’d never thought that man actually existed. Yet here he was, standing right in front of her, in triplicate.
“I’ll let you know by calling Milly.”
She nodded at Brig although she wasn’t paying much attention to him any longer. He mumbled something to Milly and lumbered away. Even the future of Sally didn’t rate as high as getting a load of these men did.
One of the brunettes was joking with an older man seated nearby. His gray-blue eyes sparkled even more as his grin grew wider, finally erupting into a full-fledged laugh. The sound of his humor made her smile and wish she was part of their conversation.
That was when the other set of blues landed on her. He blinked, then narrowed his eyes before nudging the blond next to him. Having both of them scrutinizing her sent a rush of heat cascading through her body. She had to resist the urge to grab her napkin and fan herself.
When they snagged their chatting friend and started moving toward her, she thought she’d pass out. Clinging to the edge of the counter, she concentrated on keeping her breathing even.
Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out. Don’t pass out.
She didn’t know whether to be grateful or angry when Milly came to stand between them, blocking their way.
“Hey, there, guys. Back already?”
The middle one, the one with the baby blues, looked past Milly and straight at her. “We sure are, Milly.” His perusal of her left her blushing. “And it’s a good thing we did.”
“Is that right?” asked Milly.
She could sense Milly’s surprise, and again got the feeling that Milly knew something she didn’t. How many secrets could a small town have? Her curious nature leapt into high gear.
“What can I do for you? Don’t tell me you’re already hungry? You haven’t been gone that long.”
The blond answered for the three of them. “No, we’re not back to eat. Duncan insisted that we come into town for the night.” His yummy gaze latched onto her. “I didn’t agree with him before, but now I’m glad he got his way. Introduce us, Milly.”
She could sense Milly bristle at the command. She figured he did more commanding than asking, but that didn’t mean Milly was the type to take to demands.
“Christy Smith, these two brutes are Duncan Thorne and his cousin Lance.” She motioned toward the two that Christy had guessed were related. “Their impatient friend and ranch partner is Grant Harkness. They run the Crescent Moon Ranch.”
Lance elbowed his way in front of the other two men, also easing Milly out of the way. “You are a sight to behold.”
She bit back a giggle as Duncan pushed on his cousin’s shoulder. “Hell, man, ‘a sight to behold’? Can you sound any lamer? Sweetheart, I’m Duncan and I’m here to do whatever you want me to do. All you have to do is ask.”
It was obvious that Duncan and Lance were more outgoing than Grant. Duncan was the one who kept a constant smile on his face. Now that he was closer to her, she noticed his dimples. There was just something about a man with dimples that turned her body to mush. Add in the manly cowboy part of his look and attitude, and he was impossible to ignore.
“Whatever I want, huh?” She liked to flirt and these men made it easy.
“Just name it,” added Lance.
“That goes double for me, sweetheart.”
Grant didn’t compete with them. Instead, he stood back, his rugged allure oozing from his pores. “Is there something we can help you with?”
If she’d had to choose between them, she never could have. They all drove her to distraction, her mind losing its train of thought whenever she dared to stare into their eyes. If she didn’t respond soon, they’d think she was an idiot. “Unless you can get my car fixed, then I’m afraid there’s nothing you can do.”
“Is the Beetle outside yours?”
She could listen to his deep, rich voice all day. And all night, if she was very lucky. He had one of those rare, smoother-than-molasses voices that mesmerized radio listeners during the late-night hours. “That’s Sally.”