Everything's supposed to be bigger and better in Texas, right? Sexy plus-size model Serena Morgan isn't convinced and can't wait to get out of the wild, untamed state. Local boy and country star Kale Winters has wanted Serena from the moment he looked into her eyes. Too bad she won't have a thing to do with him. Thanks to the soft heart and matchmaking skills of Serena's agent and his own swift thinking, Kale has one night to prove to Serena that there's more to this cowboy than ropin' and branding. But come morning, will Kale be able to convince Serena he's the real deal or will the stubborn model blame it on Texas?
Frustrated, he ran a hand through his already messy hair and blew out a breath. “It sounds creepy, I know. But I don’t mean to sound that way, and I sure as hell would never stalk you. My mama raised me right. She would grab that wooden spoon of hers and come after me if she could hear the way I’m screwing things up now.”
“A wooden spoon?” she echoed, her lips parting in surprise.
“Wooden spoon, spatula, her own shoes once or twice if nothing else was handy were her choices of corrective measures. Mama didn’t believe in coddling or time outs. If we screwed up, then we paid for it.” His childhood memories were filled with discipline, but also laughter, home-cooked meals, and family. “But there was plenty of love, food, and relatives, even a few pets, to go along with it. It was crazy, but I never once doubted where I belonged.”
“Sounds like you were a Norman Rockwell family complete with grandparents and the dog named Spot,” she teased, leaning closer to him.
Kale did his best to appear affronted. “I’ll have you know we never owned a dog named Spot. My family’s big on our Texas heritage so just about all out animals are named for a person, place or thing important to the state’s history. We had a horse named G.W., a cat named Houston, and my brother named his dog NASA.”
“And what historical names did you pin on your poor defenseless pets?”
He should have expected the question given the direction of their conversation. Still he knew his face reddened as he formed his response. Damn, nothing like humiliating yourself in front of the woman you hoped to impress. Clearing his throat he finally managed to answer her question while looking anywhere but at the woman in front of him. “Umm, I had a goat named Meatloaf. You know the singer. He’s from Texas, and I got the goat right as his song came out. The one where he’ll do anything but that.” His words tumbled out as if the faster he said them the less she’d hear.
Rubbing the back of his heated neck he kept going. “Had a gorgeous filly name Beyonce, and a potbellied pig named Anna Nicole.”
“Always a ladies’ man, huh?”
The sound of her teasing lightened his embarrassment and finally gave him the courage to meet her steady humor-filled gaze.
“So tell me, since you’re not a stalker what category do you fit in?”
“Your future love.”