A Buckhorn Bachelor. Lori FosterЧитать онлайн книгу.
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Buckhorn, Kentucky’s favorite son has finally decided to tie the knot in a sizzling new Buckhorn Brothers novella
Adam Sommerville always thought he had it all—great family in a close-knit community, worthwhile job as a high school gym teacher and no shortage of women eager to be on his arm. But it seems his luck has suddenly run out. Because Buckhorn’s most renowned bachelor has decided it’s time to settle down—and the one woman he wants just put him firmly in the friend zone.
Hiding her true feelings from Adam has been a full-time job for the past five years, but librarian Isabella Presley is determined not to be the latest heart he breaks. The best way to get over her attraction is to find someone else to date—even if it means asking Adam for flirting tips to help her land the perfect guy. But when Adam sets out to convince her the perfect guy is him, will she face her fears for a chance at forever?
Don’t miss the other titles in the Buckhorn Brothers series, including Buckhorn Beginnings, Forever Buckhorn, The Buckhorn Legacy, Buckhorn Ever After in the All For You anthology, Back to Buckhorn and A Buckhorn Summer.
A Buckhorn Bachelor
Lori Foster
MILLS & BOON
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Contents
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
ADAM SOMMERVILLE STROLLED around the perimeter of the carnival, keeping watch on the kids and checking out the different games and rides while also steering clear of the clingier ladies. Being an almost-thirty-year-old bachelor from a leading family in a small town made him prime pickings. Even in the fun atmosphere of the carnival, the sunny June weather, and the crowds who’d turned out to support the elementary school, he wasn’t safe from marriage-minded ladies. Especially when members of his own family conspired against him. Many of them figured it was past time for him to settle down.
How the hell had he gotten so old?
Thirty. The big three-oh.
He didn’t feel thirty, yet. For sure he wasn’t ready for it. Not that he obsessed on age or anything. He had a terrific life, a life he loved. He enjoyed being free and clear, taking on only those responsibilities of his choosing.
Like his insane, enormous, and awesome family.
Or his job as an elementary school gym teacher, which suited him perfectly.
But he had to admit, lately it felt like something was missing.
Maybe because he’d never planned to stay...alone.
Snorting at himself, Adam kept walking, trying to out-pace his thoughts. He wasn’t alone, not in that maudlin, depressed way. He had a wealth of relatives, plenty of good friends, and whenever he needed it, he found female companionship.
Tonight seemed like one of those nights.
The oppressive heat added to his edginess. The thrumming carnival music and laughter from kids made him think of things he didn’t have, things he hadn’t even thought about wanting.
Damn.
He definitely needed to get laid.
Wearing reflective sunglasses worked in Adam’s favor. He could scope out prospective company for later without anyone knowing, dodge left or right to avoid engaging women who always crowded his space, and he could ignore particular ladies—like Cindy, who’d just turned twenty—who he knew would only be trouble.
Just as turning thirty shocked him, so too did the idea of a female being too damn young. But there it was, the bald truth.
He was getting older and although he felt like a traitor to bachelors everywhere, he knew he needed more than giggling enthusiasm, a hot body, and blind agreement.
Pausing beneath the shade of a tall tree, Adam looked around at the colorful movement of summer T-shirts. So many women, yet thanks to this new weird awareness he had of his internal clock ticking away, he didn’t feel a single prickle of interest.
He could blame his cousin for that. She was the one who’d started the nagging about him being a bachelor. And once Amber had started, the others had chimed in and—
“Yer daddy wasn’t a glassmaker.”
Surprised, Adam looked behind him and saw Isabella Presley, the petite middle school librarian, seated on a quilt. She had her dark red hair in a high ponytail, her arms braced behind her and her legs stretched out with her sedate summer dress tucked in around her slim thighs. She’d taken off her shoes and for some insane reason, Adam zeroed in on her small naked feet.
She had painted her toenails fire engine red. Her feet looked soft, finely arched—
“Now see,” she said in her southern-Kentucky accent, “that was a hint that I’d like you to move. Your daddy not being a glassmaker means I can’t see through you.”
Isabella hadn’t been born in Buckhorn, Kentucky. No, she’d moved “up north” five years ago, yet retained her heavier drawl and an appealing accent. When she said “can’t,” it sounded like “cain’t” and always made him smile.
“I got it.” Pulling