Come Closer, Cowboy. Debbi Rawlins
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Friends with very naughty benefits...
Mallory Brandt needs a change. The kind of change that makes a gal close her Hollywood bar, move 1400 miles across the country and start a new life in Blackfoot Falls, Montana—in four weeks. Coincidentally, that’s how long her oldest friend, Gunner Ellison, has been out of the country...and since they had super-hot, tequila-fueled sex for the first time.
And man, Gunner is pissed. Mallory never returned his calls, never told him she was leaving. Now he’s shown up in Blackfoot Falls—and he’s not leaving until he gets answers. Only problem is, their searing chemistry keeps getting in the way, distracting them both from the feelings they’re afraid to acknowledge...and the fact that their friendship will never be the same!
“Friends, right?”
“With or without sex?”
Mallory sighed.
Gunner smiled slowly. “Okay,” he said, releasing her arm and offering his hand. “No sex.”
The second she grasped his hand, he tugged her into his arms.
She felt so good against him, warm and soft and real. He lowered his mouth to hers, and their tongues touched. A soft, helpless moan came from the back of her throat, lighting a fire in his belly that tested his self-control.
If he got any harder he was going to explode.
A firm shove to his chest sent him back a step.
“What’s wrong with you?” Mallory glared at him. “We just agreed to be friends, no sex.”
“Kissing isn’t sex.”
She was breathing hard, her breasts rising and falling. Gunner tried not to stare. Or think about how sweet she’d tasted.
God, he wanted her...and he’d do whatever it took to get her back in his bed.
Welcome to all of you who are new to my Made in Montana series! As for the rest of you “old-timers,” you’ll be surprised at some of the changes around Blackfoot Falls.
Right before starting this book, I was thinking about a few of the characters we’ve met and others whose stories I want to tell, and it hit me. I’ve been an absolute terrible hostess. There are only two places where people can eat and drink in the whole town. That might’ve been fine after the economy tanked and before the McAllisters opened the dude ranch, but too much has happened since then.
Kids who went off to college or set out to see the world have been coming home. Tourism is on the rise, and Hollywood’s renewed interest in Westerns has brought film crews to capture the beautiful, untamed land at the foot of the Rockies.
I couldn’t have everyone rebelling and moving to Kalispell, so I had to do something quick. California bar owner Mallory Brandt seemed like a good candidate to stir things up on Main Street. The night she opens the Full Moon Saloon, Gunner Ellison, her best friend—and the one man she never should’ve had sex with—shows up, determined to win her back.
There’s a special place in my heart for this couple, even with all the trouble they gave me. I hope you enjoy their story.
All my best,
Come Closer, Cowboy
Debbi Rawlins
DEBBI RAWLINS grew up in the country and loved Western movies and books. Her first crush was on a cowboy—okay, he was an actor in the role of a cowboy, but she was only eleven, so it counts. It was Houston, Texas, where she first started writing for Harlequin, and now she has her own ranch...of sorts. Instead of horses, she has four dogs, four cats, a trio of goats and free-range cattle on a few acres in gorgeous rural Utah.
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MALLORY HAD DISAPPEARED. Without a single word. Without so much as leaving a voice mail.
Gunner Ellison stood at the open door to the Renegade and slipped off his sunglasses. He’d expected to see her standing behind the bar just like always, staring back at him with those sexy green eyes and that killer smile. But the place was empty. The solid oak tables and chairs were gone. So was the pool table, the jukebox and the dartboard. In the window was a sign that said Closed for Good.
Too many sleepless nights and the long plane ride had nearly knocked him on his ass. Exhausted, Gunner rubbed his eyes, hoping this was nothing but a bad dream. Then he took another bleak look around.
Everything. Gone.
He just didn’t get it. She still had another week left on her lease. They’d talked about her raising drink prices in order to meet the steep rent hike. Other stuntmen he worked and drank with, and even the bikers who crowded her Valencia bar at all hours, none of them would’ve cared. Not if it meant keeping Mallory in business.
This was crazy. They were friends, damn it, and he’d offered to help her. Couldn’t she have waited for him to get back before giving up the place?
He’d been working on location in Argentina for four weeks. They’d talked a couple times after he’d first gotten there. But then she’d stopped taking his calls. And he had a terrible feeling he knew why.
They’d had sex. In the back room the night before he’d left. On the pool table, against the wall and maybe even on the old oak bar itself.
They’d both had a few drinks, though he hadn’t