Bad News Cowboy. Maisey Yates

in comparison to the confusion that was pouring through her. They straightened up and she went to the second, slowing down the moment in her mind so that she could capture the memory of his lips on hers. It had only been a second. A fraction of one, even. But it had felt so important. So altering.

      Before she knew it, she was rounding the third barrel, the impression of the heat and firmness of his mouth still on hers as she let out a breath and finished the run.

      It was fast. It was clean.

      It was good.

      She looked up, saw the stopwatch hanging on the fence where it had been before Jack had come.

      And Jack was gone.