“I’ll walk you in.” 

She grabbed his arm to stop him from turning off the ignition. “No.”

“But we’re courtin’,” he reminded her. “I should walk you to your door like a gentleman.” 

She leaned into his warmth. “You’re not a gentleman and I’m not a lady. We’ve got something warm and yummy here. You walk me to my door, I’ll be tempted to invite you in, despite what I agreed to in that classy restaurant. You’d best stay put.” 

He raised his hands from the steering wheel. “Hey, you’re the sheriff.” 

“That’s right.” Grappling for his shoulders, she brought him closer and dropped her voice to a whisper. “Now, I order you to kiss me good night so I can go in and think about what I’ve done.”

His quiet laugh blew across her mouth. “You might be a woman after my own heart. Isn’t that something?” He gripped the back of her neck, long fingers splaying into the taut nest of her bun as he tipped his head to the side to capture her mouth. 

She caught herself moaning. He made her feel soft, pliant, female. She was so stunned that her lips parted.

The big, tough cattle baron had been pining for her. Wasn’t that a trip? 

She lived off her mind and her gut and the cool voice of reason. One drink of Everett Eaton and it all turned to ash.