Country Heaven by Ava Miles Page A

corn dotted with butter already stood waiting on the counter. It was going to be another incredible meal—something that never failed to raise his spirits.
    “Hey,” he said.
    Tory jumped. “You scared me.”
    “Sorry. Dinner about ready?”
    “Yes.” She forked the chicken off the skillet and set the pieces on a plate lined with paper towels.
    Rye carried the corn and potatoes over to the booth and sat down. “We don’t play until tomorrow, so the band and the crew are going out tonight. Dallas has one of the best cowboy bars around. Georgia rented it and has invited some locals. Come celebrate with us.”
    Her eyes narrowed as she brought the chicken over to the booth. “I don’t know. I’m not really into the bar scene.”
    While he wasn’t surprised, he wasn’t giving up. “Ah, come on. You need some fun.” He didn’t think it was good for her to spend so much time alone.
    Rye reached for the chicken immediately. Swore at the heat. Blew on the piece hovering near his mouth and took a bite. The juices hit his taste buds, and the crunch of the breading was so succulent that he chewed slowly just to savor it. “God, this is incredible.”
    Tory wiped her hands on her apron. “Glad you like it.”
    “You got any cornbread?”
    “No, I have buttermilk biscuits in the oven.”
    His gaze traveled over her slim behind as she opened the stove and bent over to take them out. Well, he didn’t want to bribe her, but he wasn’t throwing in the towel just yet. “I looked up that thing you study.” He almost laughed—he knew perfectly well what she was studying, but he was so used to playing the fool that it came more naturally sometimes. “Cultural anthropology. This bar is gonna fascinate you. It’s all about social customs and culture.”
    “I’ll bet,” she said, and he could almost hear her rolling her eyes.
    The potatoes made him groan when he tried them, and that familiar sense of peace spread through him. He couldn’t say why, but eating her food made him feel at home—a place he’d never felt off stage other than in Dare River.
    “Hey, watch it over there. You’re sounding a little hot and bothered.”
    He made a humming noise. “Honey, I am hot. For your food. What’d you put on the corn?”
    “Cajun seasoning. You strike me as someone who likes spice, despite the whole rib incident. Now, what were you saying?”
    Right, what was he saying? “The bar, Cowboys Red River, has a mechanical bull. We all take turns riding it. Men and women. The one that lasts the longest gets a special reward.”
    Tory’s mouth parted, but she edged closer, setting a plate of steaming biscuits on the table. “A mechanical bull? So what’s the prize?”
    “Well, for the men it’s a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black. The prize for the ladies hasn’t changed since my first tour.”
    “And that would be?”
    His all–time favorite. “A kiss from me.”
    Her sexy lips curled into a frown. “That seems like a raw deal compared to the Johnnie.”
    He wiped his mouth with a napkin. “You’ve never kissed me before. Trust me. The men are getting the raw deal.”
    And wouldn’t he love to prove that now? But he wouldn’t. He liked her and respected her. Plus, she was his cook, and he didn’t want to mess that up. Even if she was proving more tempting than expected.
    She shoved her hands into her apron pockets, her eyes fairly dancing. “You could always kiss them, too.”
    Rye chuckled. Wasn’t she cute, smirking in her white apron? “You have to see the bull. It’s pretty funny watching people trying to hang on.”
    Tory just smiled as she fixed herself a plate. Even though he’d told her she could eat with him, she’d declined. So far he hadn’t pushed.
    “All right then. Sounds educational. Leave the plates out when you’re done. I’ll clean up later.”
    As she left with her food, Rye bit into a biscuit and moaned. If he were a marrying man, he might be tempted to get hitched to Tory just to