Dark eyes and wavy dark hair that framed a face full of angles—sharp cheekbones, square chin, straight blade of a nose. He was slim hipped and broad shouldered, dressed all in black right down to the Stetson he clutched in one hand. No doubt, he was an excellent-looking man on the surface, except that all Fleur could see in front of her was a coldhearted monster. Even his smile looked more like a baring of white teeth as he spoke. “Miss Colorado Silver Spurs and I are well acquainted, Marta.” Fleur’s grip on the work application tightened so hard the form crumpled in her fist. Which was just as well. Better to have her dreams go belly-up than have her life destroyed by this man yet again.
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