People aren’t lying when they say Texas heat is an experience of its own. Waking up in the gorgeously rustic B&B won’t get old anytime soon, however, this humidity is causing a hair-tastrophy. This time of year there’s none in California, so imagine my surprise when I wake up with a new do. Well, everything is bigger in Texas, right?

Deciding not to fight it, I throw it into a ponytail after my shower. I’m a natural redhead, but being in the sun most of my life has caused some blond highlights too. Too bad my body doesn’t take to the sun as well as my locks do. If I don’t lather myself up in sunscreen, I’ll burn in less than five minutes.

As soon as I’m ready, I grab my large duffle bag of photo props and books and head downstairs to the breakfast room. I can smell the fresh coffee as soon my foot hits the bottom step and inhale the scent.

“Good mornin’,” John greets me with a pleasant smile. “Did you sleep okay?”

I drop my things on a chair and roll my shoulders. “I did, thank you! The room is very charming.”

He chuckles. “Decorated by my mother, so yes if you want to say charming.”

I laugh in return. “It smells amazing in here.”

“Please, help yourself. There’s plenty.”

“Thank you.” I make my way to the table filled with pastries and grab a muffin, bagel, and some dessert looking thing. Then I pour a cup of coffee and add in milk and sugar. There’s a lot I need to do today and caffeine is a must if I’m going to get it all done.

Just as I’m walking back to my table, someone bumps into me and the coffee spills directly on my chest and down my V-neck shirt.

“Oh my God!” I squeal, immediately pulling my shirt away from my body.

“Oh shit.” The guy who nearly knocked me over holds my waist to keep me on my feet. He releases his hold on me and swipes a few napkins off the table.

After he hands them to me, I wipe the coffee from between my breasts and dab my shirt. “Are you okay?”

I look up and see a guy who’s too good looking to be real, but considering hot coffee was spilled on my skin, I know for certain he is. “I have second-degree burns on my boobs now. What do you think?” Attractive or not, I’m pissed. I loved this shirt, too.

He stumbles, pulling back to study me. I watch his eyes lower to my chest. My shirt wasn’t extremely low-cut, but just enough to show off my chest. I’m not exactly on the small side either, so pulling my shirt away from my body is exposing more of myself than before.

“I’m really sorry. I wasn’t paying attention. It’s this jackass’s fault.” He nods his head over his shoulder to a man wearing a cowboy hat and a smirk.

“Who is that?”

“Braxton. He’s a ranch hand, and holds the title for the number one asshole around here.”

My eyes flicker to where Braxton is standing near the kitchen.

“I think you just took his title.” I grimace, glancing down at my coffee covered shirt then back at him.

“I’m Colton, by the way. I am really sorry. Can I get you a cold towel or anything?”

He sounds sincere and hell he even looks it, but I’m not in the forgiving mood considering I haven’t had any caffeine and now I need to change.

Instead of answering his question, I reply, “How is it his fault?”

Colton clears his throat as he leans back on his heels. Looking down I see he’s wearing cowboy boots with his dark faded jeans tucked inside. His messy brown hair peeks out from his ball cap and his T-shirt looks like it’s painted on. It’s clear he’s rock solid underneath, but I can’t let myself get distracted.

However, he’d make one hell of a cover model.

“He sent me in for coffee and food and then called my name and as I looked over, I didn’t see you and well, you know the rest.” Colton pinches his lips together and shrugs. “Are you sure I can’t get you anything? I feel awful.” He places a hand over his heart in sincerity.

“No, forget it. I add a lot of milk to my coffee, so luckily it wasn’t too hot.”

The corner of his lips tilt up just the slightest. “I thought you said you had second-degree burns on your…” He swallows. “Chest.”

“Well, it doesn’t feel great. Why don’t you let me pour coffee on yours and you can see for yourself?”

He chuckles. The bastard.

“Colton! Hurry up!” Braxton shouts and two seconds later, John walks over and smacks him in the shoulder to be quiet.

“I didn’t get your name,” he says.

“I didn’t give it to you.” I walk around him, set my plate down on the table, then march back upstairs. As tempted as I am to look over my shoulder to see if he’s watching me, I don’t. He can’t use his Southern charm to erase the fact he ruined my favorite shirt.

Once I’ve changed into another shirt and reapplied my lipstick, I go back to my food and refill my mug, carefully mixing a perfect concoction of cream and sugar. Colton and Braxton are long gone, and I actually get to drink my coffee instead of wearing it.