“A sexy read.” —Rachel Gibson
Only one person in Oak Groves is happy to see bad girl Nikki Logan back in town…
Oak Groves’ most beloved bachelor, Jett Avery, lives by a simple set of rules. Getting involved with a complicated woman isn’t one of them. He learned that the hard way two years ago when he spent one of the most incredible nights of his life with Nikki Logan. But then she hightailed it out of town, never to be seen again—until now. It might be time to break one of those rules…
Picking up the pieces of her life, Nikki is back in Oak Groves, face to face with the one man she’s done her best to forget. But she has her reasons for being here—and they don’t include winding up in bed with Jett. Especially since he’ll never forgive her once he finds out the truth about why she’s back…
Praise for KC Klein’s Texas Wide Open
“Passionate, gritty and fast-paced…with a hot-blooded, honorable hero to make every woman’s knees go weak.”—Diane Whiteside
“A tortured hero, a love that defies distance and time…this is a book you won’t soon forget.”—Cat Johnson
“KC Klein’s hero is as hot as a Texan summer’s day.” –Rachel Gibson
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Publication Date: December 5, 2013
Jett nodded, then glanced around the crowded bar. When he turned his gaze back on her, a person would be hard pressed to describe his eyes as anything sweet or candy like. “I was hoping you’d be up for a little game of nine-ball.”
Nikki took a sip from her beer and raised her brow in question. Nine-ball was the hustler’s game. It was short and quick, without all the rules of straight pool.
He nodded his head toward the tables in the back. “I heard you played.”
“Then you heard wrong.” She took another sip, eying him the whole time. “I’ve given it up for Lent.”
The corner of his mouth hinted at a smile. “Found God, have you?”
“Among other things.”
Jett glanced to the tables, then back to her. “One game. No money.”
Nikki shook her head. “I don’t play for fun. No thrill in it.”
He swallowed, and she could see his jaw work. “Then we’ll play for a favor. A debt. You up for a little more red in your ledger?”
She didn’t want to ask, not really, but gambling was too deep in her blood not to hear the stakes. “What’s the favor?”
He smiled, not the golden boy smile she’d come to know, but instead one that lacked any charm at all. “Well, Texas, that’s the thrill part. You don’t know until the end. Anything goes. No boundaries.”
Her heart did a funky jump-start in her chest at the possibilities, but her game face was ice-cold. “No limits?”
“None. Unless that’s too much heat for you? We could place some ground rules if you want to play it safe.”
Nikki knew what Jett was doing. It was so obvious, and yet, there was that achingly familiar thrill that zipped up her spine and buzzed in her blood. Some families were predisposed toward red hair or near-sightedness. The Logans were addicts. Throw a dart at the family tree and you’d hit a vice—drinking, smoking, shopping. You name it, and the Logans could turn anything into a compulsion. But really, under all the addictions, there was only one. One vice that was as indicative of a Logan as dark hair, brown skin, and blue eyes. It was very basic, really. The Logans were gamblers.
There were stories as far back as her grandfather, if stories in the Logan family could be believed, who won his first car—a 1950 Cadillac—on the toss of a coin. Then there was her father, Dakota, who’d bet on every sports game invented, and even ones that hadn’t, like golf without clubs. Her father had once bet a hundred dollars on his ability to throw a golf ball through the eighteen holes. Legend had it, he’d won that hundred, but lost the money in the same night in an “I can piss into a can from the second story” contest.
So Jett knew what he was doing. And Nikki was smart enough to know this was more than a simple favor and way more than a simple game of pool. She also knew something else. Jett was no match for her in this game.
She hid her smile with a sip of her drink. The thrill of a “sure thing” was headier than any shot of tequila, more exciting than a leather-jacketed man on a motorcycle.
“Oh, I can take the heat,” she said.
“But can you handle this much heat?”
“Oh, I can handle it. Because we both know I can beat you with one hand tied behind my back and blindfolded.”
His eyebrows arched. “Then you’d best start figuring out what your favor will be.”
Nikki put down her bottle, no longer needing the buzz. “Already have.” Her car fixed…for starters. “You really think you can beat me at pool?”
God, he was so cocky. It was almost tragic.
His eyes narrowed and there was absolutely no humor in his voice when he spoke. “Oh, I’m betting on it.”