3
CAITLYN
“I’m Wade, by the way.” The broad-shouldered cowboy offered his hand.
“Caitlyn.” I clasped his fingers. The moment we touched, I nearly fell off my barstool. It was like the floor tilted. Damn, that wine had really gone to my head.
Suddenly, I was breathless and hot. Completely off-kilter.
Maybe it wasn’t the wine. Maybe it was the attention from the very interested, very hot stranger beside me. And I felt all that from just a handshake.
Well, he wasn’t a stranger anymore. Now, I knew his name. That made it okay, right? To feel something way more than I should for someone I’d just met. For his touch to be practically electrified.
I held onto his hand—his big, dinner plate-sized one—taking him in. He was a jumble of contradictions. He was rugged but clean-shaven. His forear
