Page 21 of The Cowboy Complication

Because even though Cooper was genuinely her friend, she was having a hell of a time being his.

8

Cooper

“TURN RIGHT HERE.” Cooper pointed to the driveway a few yards ahead of them.

“Okay.” Isla dragged the word out, but it was impossible to tell if it was because she was focused on carefully turning the wheel of his truck or because she was wondering what was going on.

“You can park right in front of the house.” He tried to keep his tone neutral, doing his best to hide the bite of excitement creeping into his gut.

Isla’s dark eyes moved over the two-story structure in front of them. “Is this your house?”

He nodded. “Yup.” Keeping as cool as he could, he opened his door and climbed out, rounding the front to join Isla on her side. “Come back here. I’ve got something I want to show you.”

“Is it candy in an unmarked van?” A hint of a smile teased at her lips. “Because I am a little hungry.”

He and Isla’s friendship had built quickly over the past few weeks. They talked over text pretty much every day, and went out driving four or five times a week. In that time, her sense of humor had really started to show. It was a little dry. A little dark. Understated and a tiny bit shy. Just like she was.

And he fucking loved it.

“First of all, I know you well enough to know candy isn’t the best way to get you into an unmarked van.” They reached the small building at the back corner of his house and he opened the door. “It’s cute animals.”

Isla’s mouth dropped open at the sight in front of her. “Are those baby chicks?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just went straight for the clear tub containing the delivery he’d picked up from the post office at four-thirty that morning. “Oh my gosh. They’re so freaking cute.” She started to reach into the makeshift brooder, but stopped, her wide eyes swinging his way. “Can I touch them?”

“Of course.” He moved in beside her, crouching down as she gently ran the tips of her fingers over the fluffy little bodies. “You can pick them up if you want.”

She didn’t hesitate to scoop up the closest one, cuddling its tiny body against the front of her sweatshirt as it chirped. “They’re so small.”

“They ship them pretty much the day they hatch.” He soaked in the sight of her as he explained. Taking in the pure joy on her face. It was worth however big of a pain in the ass these things ended up being.

Isla’s dark brows pinched. “They ship chickens?” Her lips pressed into a frown. “In the mail?”

“All the time.” He reached in and scooped out one of the other members of his new flock. “I could have picked some up at the feed store, but I thought I’d try getting a few different kinds, so I ordered them online from a hatchery.”

Isla looked over the rest of the ten babies scratching around the pine shavings. “I feel like an idiot. I never really thought about there being different kinds of chickens.”

“Don’t feel like an idiot. If you weren’t getting some, there’s no reason you’d know.” He started listing off the breeds he’d selected. “There’s Easter Eggers.” He pointed at the two he thought were most likely those. “They lay blue eggs. There’s Olive Eggers.” Again he identified the two he thought fit their description. “They lay green eggs.”

Isla grabbed one of them, lifting it eye level. “You’re gonna lay colored eggs? That’s fancy.”

“She is.” He settled the chicken he held back with her sisters. “And they’re all hens, so I don’t have to deal with an asshole rooster.”

Isla chewed her lower lip, peering over the babies. “I thought you didn’t want chickens?”

“I didn’t.” He grinned. “But now I’ve got you to help me take care of them, so I figured I might as well have some fresh eggs.”

Isla angled a brow. “That’s awfully presumptuous of you to assume I’ll help take care of these sweet, cute little ladies.”

He laughed because he knew damn well she’d help him. “I guess if you’re not interested…” He pretended to reach for the chickens she held.

Isla swung away. “I didn’t say I wouldn’t help. I just said you were presumptuous.”

His smile widened. “Is it still presumptuous if I’m right?”

“Yes.” She added the Olive Egger to the hand holding the other chick, balancing them both in one scooped palm. “But I guess I owe you for all the driving lessons, so?—”

“No.” He shut that thought down hard and fast. “I don’t take you driving so you’ll owe me, Isla.” He tried to soften the statement by adding on, “I do it out of self-preservation, remember? I don’t want to spend all my time pulling you over because Gram-Gram turned you into the worst driver in Moss Creek.” It was a partial truth. A piece of the pie that led him to seek Isla out as often as he did.

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